Africa Day at Celebrate Brooklyn
Prospect Park Bandshell: July 18, 2009 
Text and photos: Banning Eyre

There is so much African related music happening in New York this summer that the concert blog is getting seriously backed up.  This entry covers one particularly rich day, in which the annual Africa Day celebration in Prospect Park morphed (for me, not so seamlessly) into an extraordinary night at Lincoln Center’s Avery Fisher Hall with two of the shining lights of Amizight (Berber) music from North Africa, making their U.S. debuts.  That last bit is important.  But first things first… 

A fine, sunny day greeted celebrants in Prospect Park for an all-day fiesta of varied African music.  Cheikh M’Baye and Sing Sing kicked things off with a bracing round of sabar drumming from Senegal.  Then Yasser Darwish cooled out the mood with a sultry, melodious set of acoustic taarab music from the Indian Ocean coast of East Africa.  The procession of bands started up around 3:30 with a smart, funky set by Abena Koomsom, who plays a leading roll in Fela, the musical soon headed for a run on Broadway!  Others from the Fela production joined Abena in a set that was part jazz and R&B, part African pop, and all soul!  Abena is a winning stage presence, and her interactions with Steve Turre—trombone, conch shells, percussion—were particularly fun to watch—he serious and stalwart, and she rambunctious and fit to burst.

Next came New York’s own Mandingo Ambassadors.  This band, headed by Guinean music veteran and master guitarist Mamady Kouyate, plays weekly at Barbes, not far from Afropop’s office.  But as many times as I’ve swooned to their classic, Conakry dance band sound in that cozy confine, I was not prepared for the “big stage” rollout we got at Celebrate Brooklyn.  The lineup was enhanced with extra percussion, a dancer, and Abou Sylla on balafon.  It almost didn’t matter that the band’s sterling rhythm guitarist was apparently lost and never made it to the gig (though Mamady Kourouma was missed).  This act filled the stage and brought the crowd to the brink of ecstasy with their rich, hypnotic grooves, nifty arrangements, and crescendos of explosive dancing.  Front man Ismael Kouyate has a smile and a voice to warm the coldest soul, and Mamady Kouyate is as thrilling an African guitarist as you will find in this country today.  This performance marked a watershed for one of New York’s most unique and talented “retro” Afropop acts. 

From the old sounds of Guinea played in a new way, to new sounds from South Africa played with the infectious spirit of youth.  Freshly Ground are a pop act out of Johannesburg who have taken South Africa by storm.  Their easy-going, mixed race vibe says a lot about the inclusive mood of the post-apartheid generation.  The songs are mostly sunny, upbeat, tinted by township swing, hip-hop, and R&B, but limited to none of these.  The band’s stage energy proved irresistible, and even roots-addicted fans who might have shunned such outright pop on a recording could not help but be pulled in as the musicians, led by intensely charismatic vocalist Zolani, worked their exuberant stage magic.  As they finished, the crowd was pumped, and ready to receive one of the founding legends of African pop music, King Sunny Ade. 

Some 28 years after he first toured for American audiences, the Chairman, the Juju King, KSA—call him what you will—has still got it.  The band has changed.  It’s younger.  The pedal steel guitar is gone.  In fact there was just one guitar onstage, except when Ade deigned to pick up his Stratocaster for a song late in the set.  But the percussion thicket, and the warm exchange of call-and-response vocals were everything we remember.  The stage show offers an nonstop music, and nonstop drama, with movement, interaction, posturing, posing, dancing and smiles galore.  Ade genuinely holds court on stage and he had a park full of willing subjects as night fell on Brooklyn.

This was to be a special show, for at its conclusion Ade was presented with a plaque inducting him into the Afropop Hall of Fame, an honor he now shares with Youssou N’Dour, Thomas Mapfumo, Habib Koite, and a number of other African greats.  Sean Barlow did the honors, and you can see a video of KSA’s induction on the Afropop YouTube page.

However, this reporter had left the scene by that time.  There are few things that could induce me to actually ditch on a King Sunny Ade concert in progress.  But the debut of Idir and Najat Aatabou at Lincoln Center did the trick.  I would catch up with Ade and the African beats a week later at a late night African party at Nazareth High School in Brooklyn, the dash money flowing strong under fluroescent lights.  But that's another story...

Idir and Najat Aatabou
Avery Fisher Hall: July 18, 2009  

Idir is iconic for Algerians of a certain age.  It’s not only that he has written and sung so poignantly about the life and struggles of the Tamazight (Berber) people of Kabyle—long victims of a campaign of Arabization practiced by successive governments.  Idir is a people’s poet who merged a deeply Algerian sensibility with the warm aesthetic of French popular song.  With just his acoustic guitar and his silky voice, Idir can sing ballads that will reduce a hall to tears.  By the time I reached Avery Fisher, that part was over, and Idir and his band had the crowd on their feet and howling.  Tamazight flags were waving amid flying arms and heads turned skyward.  People were singing, clapping, and dancing in a mood of revelry rare at any concert.  Within seconds it was clear that this unassuming man on stage had a profound hold on the hearts of an Algerian generation, and they were present, and overwhelmed to at last see him in New York City. 

Idir concluded his set with “Zwit Rwit (Party On),” one of his lighter songs, and one heard by many Western fans when rai star Khaled reinterpreted it as “El Harba Wine.”  The trek uptown was worth it just for this moment, as happy an exchange between audience and artist as I have seen anywhere. 

The “party on” message was certainly picked up by Najat Aatabou.  Aatabou comes from the Middle Atlas mountains in Morocco, and began singing as a little girl, against her conservative family’s wishes.  But all one has to do is hear her sing anything and it is clear that this woman was MADE to sing, and nothing was going to stop her.  Since then, Aatabou has spent decades in Casablanca, performing and recording with folkloric backing (lotar and frame drums), with orchestra, and even as part of a mix by The Chemical Brothers.  These days, she favors a modern, shaabi band, with lots of percussion, guitar, keyboards, bass, and more percussion.  It is bracing and certainly got her fans going, especially women who crowded close to the stage waving their arms in appreciation and joy. 

However, the presentation does take some of the attention away from that fabulous voice.  Najat has a raw, torn, deeply powerful vocal instrument.  It bores into the soul and awakens surprising emotions—furious, wounded love, resilience and stamina.  During the opening of her set, she sang with just her violinist, and chills rippled down my spine instantly.  Unfortunately, that never happened again.  Once the band hit, it was pretty much an hour of high-voltage Casablanca pop, bracing and joyful to be sure, but altogether lacking in pacing and dynamics.  There was a wonderful moment when the musicians all took up hand drums and stood around Aatabou in a simulation of a more rustic musical setting.  But how sweet it would have been to hear an acoustic song in the mix, or even passages where the band dropped back to let that exquisite voice reign supreme.  In the end, a cultural divide separates the expectations of fans used to Casablanca nightclubs from those of the high-end world music fans who ventured to Avery Fisher out of curiosity that night.  By the end of Aatabou’s breathless set, mostly the former group remained, jammed close to the stage, and wild with excitement.  As with Idir, the audience became the show.  The Tamzight solidarity was flowing, as well as Moroccan national pride, and also something more universal, the wonder of seeing the moment when a young village girl with exceptional talent makes it to the big time at Lincoln Center.  I hope Najat returns one day with a show that shows more of her range, but even if that never happens, it was an honor to witness her New York debut. 

First published: www.afropop.org