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The skinny on Majmouat Abde ElHakim
and how this group ended up in the catalogue of this obscure label.
I saw a band when I was in Morocco in the winter of 2000, one of many
that perform in the Djma al Fna, which is a big asphalt plaza surrounded
by a swirling traffic jam. All day and into the night there are crowds
of people clustered in circles around performers.... snake charmers, acrobats,
musicians and music ensembles, story tellers, faith healers, psalmists,
and many more strange "acts," as well as food stalls, juice
stands, hustlers, drug dealers, and pickpockets. It is the kind of place
that disappeared from Europe long ago and has never existed in America,
except a kernel of it in things like run-down state fairs. In fact it
has disappeared from North Africa too, except in Marrakech where it survived
by a fluke and is now enormously popular. Bathed in smoke from the cooking
coals and auto exhaust, and lit by kerosene lanterns, the place has a
vaguely apocalyptic air and is one of my favorite spots on earth. So this
one particular band kept drawing me back, I never learned the group's
name but for a few years entertained the idea of producing a record of
them. After much plotting it all came together in the winter of 2003,
when myself, recording engineer Robb Kunz, photographer Tomiko Jones,
and translator Naime Lahmoudi, arranged to be in Marrakech for a few days
at the same time. What follows is a spotty journal of those days, followed
by a general summary of this trip to Morocco.
Recording the Band
We are 5 days in Marrakech and have still made no progress towards recording
the band. For the first 3 days I was immobilized by sickness. The following
night the band did not play. Tonight we finally rendezvous with Naime,
who is a fellow yellow taxi driver from Seattle who winters at his apartment
in Morocco. We had arranged to be in Marrakech at the same time so he
could help with translation.
At first the night seems bound for disappointment, we follow Naime and
his wife around in the souqs near the Djma al Fna while they shop for
antique trinkets and now they want to head to the Ville Nouvelle for food
and drinks. He agrees to pop by and have some words with the band, who
are usually playing in a particular spot.
They are not there, just some litter blowing about and a bunch of people
with spreads on the pavement selling ground-up antler horns, magical potpourri,
bundles of healing twigs, and other dubious home remedies.I notice one
of the musicians from the band wandering by in a hurry, I recognize his
green djellaba, enigmatic face and coke-bottle glasses. I finger him and
Naime runs over and gives a summary of our intentions. He looks very confused
but smells opportunity. He leads us hastily around a few corners to the
back-end of a grotty "food court"
There sits the band leader, Abde ElHakim, two more of the musicians, and
an audience of surprised cooks in soiled white jackets. Naime makes the
pitch in about 30 seconds. Then they fire money figures back and forth
and settle on some sum of dirhams. These guys are too old and cynical
to think I am going to make them stars or something, or maybe they're
honest enough with themselves to know that they aren't marketable as some
mystical exotic world beat crap. It will be a nice surprise when (if?)
I break even on the production costs and I bring them more money.
It all happens so fast that I can barely get my questions in. They decide
to provide the venue, but we are not told where and what the space is,
only that it is big enough and quiet enough.
After giving them a hundred dirhams to seal the deal and handshakes all
around we agree to meet in the Djma al Fna at 9am tomorrow.
(following day)
It is way to early. All the musicians, Rob, and I are sitting in the square
getting cooked by the unobstructed African sun, which even at 9am in the
winter feels like a too-close heat lamp. Of course we drink copious amounts
of mint tea, which is really more like sugar in a suspension of hot minty
water. I have a love-hate relationship with this tea that is such a fixture
in my life.
We can't communicate at all with the musicians since except with my tiny
arabic vocabulary which quickly runs out. Musicians are the same throughout
the world... not morning people. We sit irritably waiting for a tardy
Naime, eventually he shows up with his wife and a mystery child (turns
out to be a nephew).
Four petit taxis are flagged and our caravan sets off to an unknown destination.
5 minutes later we are at a dead end where the streets peters off into
a maze of narrow footpaths. Abde Elhakim charges into the maze and we
follow. Many turns later we step through a few miniature doors and arrive
at his family house. There is a small concrete courtyard, about the size
of typical living room. It has been cleaned and cleared in anticipation
of our arrival. He is obviously poor, what can you expect of a lifelong
busker, but the place is not at all depressing. He shows us photos of
his son who lives in Rabat, he looks like a normal middle class fellow
with his own family. I wonder what it is like having Abde Elhakim for
a dad. He is a grisled man in a soiled djellaba with one eye whose performance
whose vehement performances involve lots of accidental spit.
Platters of tea are produced and also little cookies and snacks. Of course
it is a more than I have ever been offered as a guest to the homes of
my wealthiest american friends, but I have come to expect this in Morocco.
During the whole of the session never once do the offers of tea and snacks
cease.
Rob and I set up for an hour. The equipment is so foreign to this environment
that it is almost invisible, the musicians don't inquire about it. We
patch together the gear like pros, even though this is the first time,
and everything works except the fuse in the master power transformer blows.
We brought 4 backups and quickly blow three of those trying to troubleshoot.
It takes one fuse per test. On our last fuse we succeed and all is good.
The music starts. It is rough at first, they keep switching lead vocals
and I am scrambling to position the mics correctly, but then things settle
in. After making sure everything is good, and getting me their names and
other info, Naime and company take off.
For a few hours the band plays and we record. There are some blissful
moments when the music is just kicking ass, when I know why I am alive
and why I decided to do this project. I don't know how to explain it,
but there is a lot of vocal call/response and clearly some improvisations
with the vocal calls, which involves some humor and creativity. When the
call is particularly clever everyone gets a smile on there face. Towards
then end of a cycle, when transitions are made to the next song, the cycles
accelerate and then turn into rhythmic tonal yells and the percussion
becomes heavily syncopated. Abde Elhakim voice sounds like he keeps a
cheese-grater stored in his larynx. The other lead vocalist, Mohammed,
the man with the enigmatic face and thick glasses, he has a very particular
interpretation of that nasal north african style. The bendir player's
face is a criss-cross of scars, the darbouka player is cross-eyed and
wears a funny american baseball hat, the banjo player's teeth are held
in by sugar deposits alone, and his yellow turban has seen too many years.
Their musical repitoire is similar to a number of other groups that play
in the Djma al Fna, in fact many of the other groups are more techniquely
precise and draw larger crowds, but this group is really something else.
It has to do with who they are, they just exude strange energy. They have
that intangible essence: soul.
There is a technical problem and we loose about 20 minutes of material
because a connection on the computer had come undone. It was probably
the best 20 minutes and I spend a little while trying to explain in the
most pitiful arabic that they needed to repeat the "first part of
the last section". I fail and we let fate steal that portion away.
Sometimes I think that the best stuff shouldn't be recorded, that it should
only exist in it's own ephemeral moment- to be enjoyed in the present.
In light of this, the tech problem doesn't seem random, but a manifestation
of the will of the world, which refuses to allow it's most beautiful offerings
to be captured for future simulation. It doesn't really matter after all
since we have plenty of good material- enough for an album.
The music ends and out comes a ridiculous platter of couscous. I know
that preparing this meal must have taken a few people all day. It is excellent
and we eat to capacity.
The musicians lead us out of the backways and to a street with taxis.
The Whole Trip- What people are now calling a blog?
Hello
For those of you who don't know I'm in Morocco for a bit of the winter.
I came here to work on some of my electronic music, to record a band in
Marrakech with Robb (a friend and sound engineer with a mobile studio),
to go to Jajouka again (that is a long story if you don't already know
it- www.jajouka.com), and to travel around a bit with Tomiko.
Of course there are a lot of things that happen here, small things observed
in the course of walks, strange experiences, danger, hustles, and all
that, good food, interesting folks, train rides, adventures, nice noises,
tea encounters, etc... but you will have to be on Robb's emailing list
to get the fine details because I am spending enough time on the computer
already.
Here is my Cliff Notes version.
Picked up at the airport at 3am in Casablanca by some relatives of a friend.
The driver drinks wine (from glasses which he occasionally chucks out
the window), smokes a hash joint, and a 3 foot tall turkish water pipe.
The man in the passenger seat keeps up the drug supply, refilling (or
replacing) the wine glasses, rolling joints, and tending the coal and
tobacco on the water pipe. We joined in the fun and arrived in Mohammedia
miraculously intact after many near accidents. Big welcome to Morocco!!
Had my honor defended by a new friend who battered and chased with rocks
a young man who said unkind words to us. There was some blood and a lot
of yelling but nobody seemed to care, including the onlooking police.
This is the Africa I love.
Spent 4 days delirious and too sick to move, huddled under a pile of blanket
on the roof of my temporary home in Marrakech. Coughed up enough yellow
goo to start a collection.
When health returned the main recording session happened. See preceding
text.
After Tomiko arrived the 3 of us rented a car and for 10 days made a circle
of nearly the entire country. We return the car covered in mud, fuses
blown, brakes squealing, with a smashed out back window, the interior
soaked with dust and rain water. I blame FIAT for making such a piece
of shit, it certainly wasn't our fault the car fell apart.
Oh yeah, before leaving Marrakech we went to Moulay Brahim with Hind to
join her extended family for the Aid Al Kebir, a festival involving the
ritual sacrifice of a ram and the subsequent eating of a it's flesh, starting
with the grilled liver. For background on this read the Bible, that part
about Abraham putting the knife to his son because god told him so. FYI-
Muslims use the old testament too. It's literally rivers of blood in this
small town because every family is offing a ram at the same time. As a
vegetarian this festival is always a little challenging for me, I don't
advertise that I'm vegetarian because it is a downright stupid idea to
people here, so I get served fresh liver like everyone else.
Most of our time with the car was spent driving to the absolute most desolate
farthest point in Morocco, the near-ghost town of Figuig on the Algerian
frontier. It was the end of the road, the border is very much closed;
although at night trucks come barreling through town towards the checkpoint,
so I can only assume that there are many nocturnal trade agreements.
A young shopkeeper, perhaps the town's only english speaker, spent the
day with us. He guided us through an ancient neighborhood to a nondescript
door. Downwards into black darkness a few hundred steps carved from solid
rock, we soaked in a small tank of water while giant cockroaches explored
our clothes. Nobody could tell me how old this place was, I guess a thousand
years at least.
Other highlights included:
-snow in the Sahara during some dramatic storms that made me feel very
small and fragile.
-a day and night hanging out in the sand dunes where we drank vodka under
the full moon
-an unauthorized exploration of vast cavern near Taza. We never came near
the end (no one ever has), but did find glittery stalagtites/mites and
still subterannean ponds
-much smoking in the comfortable Rif village of Chefchauen, and one day
spent hanging out in the mountains enjoying kif with a farmboy and lounging
on sunny rocks in postcard-pleasant valleys
-dinner and a stay with Bachir (Master Musicians of Jajouka), much interesting
political talk
After returning to Marrakech we scattered, Robb heading back to Seattle,
Tomiko and I going our own ways for a bit.
Before leaving Marrakech Hind (our host there, whom I met on a previous
visit) translated a recording request into written arabic. Armed with
this I cruised the Djma al Fna for the best snake charmer rhaita (double
reed flute) player. I brandished my little scrap of paper and reached
a compensation agreement with one excitable man. On the garbage-encrusted
pavement will all manner of chaos happening around us, I set up my laptop,
recording interface, and microphone, and the rhaita player performed on
one song I'm working on. We drew a large crowd of onlookers who peered
at my titanium laptop in confusion. It's a strange world.
From there I kind of took buses and grand taxis at random, ending in Taroudant
which was flat and cloistered but had good Harira available in the square
at midnight, and friendly street kids whom I bought soup for. Three more
transportation changes and a day later got me to my present digs, Tafraoute,
where life is good... golden rocky mountains and a deep blue sky.
Yesterday I rented a rickety bike and rode 30km canyon loop out to some
remote villages. The loudest thing I heard for hours at a time was the
sound of the wind in my ears and the occasional bee. Evenings are spent
editing music and writing. Life is very rich at this time.
ma'salama
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