Algerian gnawa singer and instrumentalist Hasna el Becharia was one of the revelations of Afropop Worldwide's visit to the Musiques Mètisses festival in France in 2002. For starters, it was just so unusual to see a woman playing the gnawa bass lute, the guimbri, and leading a band like a Malian griotte or a rai diva. But then the music itself was so powerful with Hasna's gruff, commanding voice and splendid skills on guitar and guimbri backed by three strong, singing, playing male percussionists. The music cast a spell over the largely north African audience, many of whom sang along with Hasna throughout the show.

Sean Barlow and Banning Eyre scrambled to get an interview with Hasna right after her performance, at the time unaware that she had recently released her first recording, Djazair Johara. Though in her 50s, Hasna never recorded in Algeria, only in France, where she moved in 1999. Since this interview took place, Hasna's recording has become an Afropop Worldwide hot pick. It is truly extraordinary, delivering the magic of her live performance. Here is Banning and Sean's interview with Hasna El Becharia.

HASNA EL BECHARIA: Hello for the radio!

Banning Eyre: Hello to you, and welcome to Afropop Worldwide. Let's start with a little of your personal history.

HASNA: I was born in Algeria in Béchar, in the south [near the Moroccan border]. My father came from Morocco and he was a gnawa in Béchar. All my family were gnawa. My grandfather and my father, and others who are now dead. I learned the guimbri with my father. I was young, but I learned lots of gnawa things with my father. I was always with my father, all the time.

B.E.: So you were a musician from childhood.

HASNA: Yes, my childhood was playing music. Weddings. First I played the oud, and then an electric guitar at all the weddings in Béchar right up until I came here to France. I also play acoustic guitar.

B.E.: I noticed that your sound on that nylon string guitar is a lot like the oud.

HASNA: I tune it like an oud. [One of Hasna's musicians volunteers the notes: C G D A B E.]

B.E.: Where did that idea come from?

HASNA: From me, me alone. Since 1992, I've been working that way.

B.E.: Fascinating. Let's talk about your professional career.

HASNA: Back home, it was a lot, always heating up the scene.

B.E.: What about recordings?

HASNA: I never recorded in Algeria. Only here. This is the first time. I recorded it a year ago.

B.E.: You made that with the same group who performed here in Angoulême?

HASNA: Yes. This is my group.

B.E.: I've never seen a woman singing and playing guimbri before. That's not typical, is it?

HASNA: No, there are none. It's very rare. It's difficult.

B.E.: Talk a little about how that happened, the problems and challenges involved.

HASNA: [LAUGHS] Before starting the guimbri, I learned to play an acoustic guitar in Béchar. And little by little, I started playing the electric guitar at weddings. But listen to what I did. I started to play the oud, but my father didn't want that. He didn't want me to play the guitar. And when I touched the guimbri, he told me, that's not good for a woman. But I did it, and he showed me many things, tunings and everything.

B.E.: So when you played those weddings in Algeria, it was unusual, but they accepted it?

HASNA: They accepted it. They were happy, all of them. They invited me, they came for me, they sent a car for me and my guitar.

B.E.: At what age did you start doing that?

HASNA: Fifteen. Now I'm 51.

B.E.: When did you come to live in Paris.

HASNA: 1999.

B.E.: Why did you come here?

HASNA: I like it. I had come before and left, as a tourist. This was my fourth visit. The fourth time I stayed. I like freedom.

B.E.: How did this recording come about.

HASNA: It was Magali Bergès of Mondomix who arranged that.

B.E.: I noticed that many people in the audience knew the songs and sang along with you. Did they know them from the CD?

HASNA: Yes. From the CD.

B.E.: Are these your compositions?

HASNA: Yes, most of them.

B.E.: Tell us about a couple of songs.

HASNA: "Hakmet Lakdar." That says, "It is by chance that I am here." I sing for my son, myself and my parents on this record. Another is "El Lil Lil, el Lilibiya." That's by a Moroccan artist, Maâlem Zouzou. "Bouri Bouri Manandabo" is a traditional gnawa song.

B.E.: I hear some Berber rhythms in your music. Is that there?

HASNA: A little. Yes. I learned all that from my father.

B.E.: We've mostly heard gnawa music from Morocco. Is there a lot in Algeria as well?

HASNA: It's less in Algeria. Before, there were a lot, but they're all dead. Now, it's just the young who do it a little, but not like before. In Morocco, there are a lot, even young people. With us, everything is being lost.

B.E.: Where you learned, Béchar--is that near big cities? Is it in the desert? What's it like?

HASNA: It's a desert town, very near the Moroccan border. It's a small town. It's all the same family, the gnawa of Béchar and Morocco.

B.E.: And what language do the gnawa speak?

HASNA: They speak Soudania. But there aren't many gnawa now who still speak Soudania. My father spoke Soudania. But there aren't many left. They've all died.

B.E.: We know about the problems of the Berber language minority in Algeria and their struggle to have the language become official. Is this a similar situation?

HASNA: No, it's not the same. But the language is disappearing. Fewer and fewer speak it. In Béchar, they are almost gone.

B.E.: Does the music help to keep the language alive?

HASNA: I sing in Soudania, gnawi. But there are almost none left who speak it. They speak Arab.

B.E.: So when gnawa singers sing in Soudania, do they understand what they're singing?

HASNA: I don't know. It's mixed with Arabic words.

Sean Barlow: In gnawa tradition, music is for trance. It's the same with you.

HASNA: Yes, music is for trance. My father treated people.

S.B.: So music and the guimbri is a kind of treatment.

HASNA: Yes, it's good. When you play the guimbri and sing gnawa, it brings you good health. When you dance in a trance, you come back a little better than before.

S.B.: So when you sing and play, do you go into trance.

HASNA: Yes, sometimes. When I play the guimbri, I am not there. I am another person.

S.B.: Do you people come to you with their problems, wanting you to treat them?

HASNA: Yes, lots of them. I always have soirées at my house. We make tea. We take the guimbri. We play. Afterwards, we eat couscous. Lots of people come by.

S.B.: And people come with their problems.

HASNA: Yes, lots of problems.

S.B.: So you are like a doctor.

HASNA: Yes. A doctor. My house is a hospital. Everyone comes there.

Banning Eyre: Well, I must say that I certainly feel better after the concert.

S.B.: It's interesting to me that there are so many young people in your audience--18, 19. They're in France surrounded by hip-hop all these things, and here they are reconnecting to their culture.

HASNA: There are many types. Women who are unhappy. When they listen, they become happy. There are the sick; they become better. When I play the guimbri, especially as a woman--you know, I never played the guimbri publicly in Béchar. But here I play it.

B.E.: You never performed with that instrument in Algeria?

HASNA: Never. My father would not allow it. I played only the guitar over there.

B.E.: So that's why you moved here.

HASNA: Voila. You see? My father did not want it, because I am a woman. It's sacred.

B.E.: Is your father still alive?

HASNA: No. He's dead.

S.B.: Thank you, Doctor!

HASNA: Thank you.

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