Tuesday, December 31, 2013

drone life: new year's wish




One of my New Year's wishes for 2014 is that the USA end its bloody program of targeted assassination.

The invaluable blog Dangerous Minds (which mostly posts about pop culture) yesterday posted a piece entitled "The Truth about Obama's Indiscriminate and Bloody Drone War." It featured excerpts from Greg Palast's Vice article (July), "Drone Rangers," and a more recent article (December 29) from The Guardian by Heather Linebaugh, who served in the US Air Force from 2009 until March 2012, working in intelligence as an imagery analyst and geo-spatial analyst for the Iraq and the Afghanistan drone program.

I found these excerpts from Linebaugh's piece to be most illuminating. I wish everyone in the USA could be made aware of this.

What the public needs to understand is that the video provided by a drone is not usually clear enough to detect someone carrying a weapon, even on a crystal-clear day with limited cloud and perfect light. This makes it incredibly difficult for the best analysts to identify if someone has weapons for sure. One example comes to mind: "The feed is so pixelated, what if it's a shovel, and not a weapon?" I felt this confusion constantly, as did my fellow UAV analysts. We always wonder if we killed the right people, if we endangered the wrong people, if we destroyed an innocent civilian's life all because of a bad image or angle... 

The UAVs in the Middle East are used as a weapon, not as protection, and as long as our public remains ignorant to this, this serious threat to the sanctity of human life – at home and abroad – will continue.

Monday, December 30, 2013

Maya Casabianca

I recently ran across an article in Haaretz by Daphna Lewy, published on September 13, 2001, about the Moroccan Jewish (and Israeli citizen) singer Maya Casabianca. Maya is interesting for several reasons. First, she was something of a star in France during the 1960s. Second, she carried on a love affair with Farid Al-Atrash (the singer-'udist-actor, born in Syria but whose career was made in Egypt, brother of Asmahan) during the last four years of his life (he died in 1974).

Maya was born Margalit Azran in Casablanca in 1945 (I believe) and emigrated to Israel with her aunt and uncle in 1948, while her parents went to Paris. Her aunt and uncle, it seems, weren't able to adapt to life in Israel, so when she was 11 (1956) the family moved to Paris and she was reunited with her parents. She was discovered by a neighbor who worked for the Philips recording company, and she was signed by Philips under the name Maya Casabianca and was a sensation in France by the late fifties. (The name evokes Casablanca without actually being Moroccan. No doubt in order to lend her a bit of Mediterranean exotica but at the same to disguise her Arabness.) Philips aimed to groom her as a teen successor or even rival to Dalida, and they were at least in part successful. Her total record sales, according to the Haaretz article, were 38 million. Like Dalida, and like so many of France's pop stars of the era who were "Mediterranean," she sang in French and Spanish. But she certainly is not remembered today anywhere near as reverentially as is Dalida. 
 

I don't know what her big hits were in France, but I note that she did a version of "Zoubisou Bisou," originally made popular in France by Gillian Hills and of course famously revived when Megan performed it for Don in Mad Men. Maya's is perfectly decent, as you can hear here.

She also covered Little Anthony and the Imperials' 1959 hit, "Shimmy Shimmy Ko-Ko-Bop," as 
"Cherie Cherie Je Reviens." Check it out here.

But I think this song, "El Matador," is more representative of what she became famous for, and the video gives us a chance to see her performing on television.


Casabianca reportedly met Farid Al-Atrash at the first party that Philips put on in her honor, and he pursued her, sending a limo to pick her up on her first trip to Beirut to sing in concert, and it took her to his luxurious palace. They were friends for several years and eventually, for four years, lovers, splitting up shortly before he died. (I am told by someone who is connected that his family denies the story.)

 Maya and Farid

Farid al-Atrash reportedly encouraged her to record Sephardic songs (but I haven't found any) and also to adapt some of his songs. The best known of these is her version of his famous "Ya Gamil, Ya Gamil," which you can listen to here.

Here's Farid's original.

Eventually (and I'm not sure when -- in the late 70s?) Maya returned to Israel and mostly lived off the royalties of her hits. But she did record an album of Farid al-Atrash songs, including "Ya Gamil, Ya Gamil." Here's the cassette jacket.


Maya also wrote a book, published in 2001, about her career and her time with Farid, under the Hebrew title Ani Vehu ("He and I"), and it also appeared in Arabic, issued by the Arabic culture department of the Israeli Ministry of Science, Culture and Sport.

If you understand Hebrew (and I don't), here's a report on her from Israeli TV.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Crooner oriental, Lili Boniche (1921-2008): lots of biographical info, but in French



 When I was writing up my previous post on Lili Boniche I was hunting for more bibliographical information. And I found this short youtube video where he is interviewed, but more interesting and a much longer text was the "histoire" of Lili Boniche that was posted along with the video. (I don't know what the original source is.) I reproduce it below, along with some other texts (from Le Monde, Hommes et Migrations, and L'Humanité) that I have hunted down and saved over the years. They are all in French, but I will briefly discuss some of the high points at the end of the post.

#1

«Mon père était kabyle. Quand il parlait avec sa mère, nous, les enfants, n'y comprenions rien. Il était bijoutier à Alger et jouait merveilleusement de la mandoline, pour les amis et la famille. Il ne voulait pas que j'y touche, mais, dès mes 10 ans, je la volais régulièrement quand il n'était pas à la maison», raconte Lili Boniche, enfant de la Casbah, roi et père juif d'un croisement de chants en arabe et en français qu'il a inventé dans les années 40. Le cheveu toujours couleur henné, mais le dos un peu voûté et le trait flapi, il a encore faim de scène: alors qu'à 78 ans on pensait lui rendre un ultime hommage à l'Olympia, Lili revient de Suisse en attendant d'aller jouer à Stockholm. «A Tokyo, les musiciens japonais ont fait la queue pour me demander comment je faisais pour réunir des choses si différentes.» A savoir, les fruits sucrés de noces entre langueur arabo-andalouse, prière flamenco, frénésie afro-latine, roucoulade argentine et légèreté chansonnière. Métissage (dans lequel excellent surtout les musiciens juifs du Maghreb) né aux alentours des années 20 à Beyrouth, puis transporté à Alexandrie et au Caire, cette tambouille sera reprise en version nord-africaine par Lili Boniche: «Je jouais dans les fêtes familiales. Mais vers minuit, voyant les gens s'assoupir, je me demandais comment les réveiller. Je me suis alors mis à écrire des chansons mélangeant français et arabe. Bref, du "francarabe.» Un genre qui risque bien de disparaître avec ses créateurs, faute de relève.

Lili d'Alger. Pas encore adolescent, Lili (Elie, en réalité) connaissait parfaitement Zid 'amar el kess ya 'omri («Remplis encore mon verre ô ma vie»), une chanson de Saoud l'Oranais, maître de la musique arabo-andalouse qui tenait un café fréquenté par les mélomanes dans le quartier juif. Un jour où Saoud l'Oranais (El Médioni de son vrai nom) était venu donner une grande soirée à Alger, Lili interpréta devant lui sa chanson. «Il a proposé à mon père de m'emmener. J'ai passé trois ans chez lui à apprendre les subtilités et les dérivés de la musique andalouse, jusqu'à l'année de ma communion (Boniche ne dit pas bar-mitsva, ndlr).» De retour dans sa ville natale, Boniche intègre diverses sociétés musicales, poursuivant son apprentissage auprès de maîtres comme Mohamed Chitane, Lili Labassi ou Mahieddine Bachtarzi. «A 15 ans, je suis parti frapper à la porte de Radio Alger. Le directeur, M. Azrou, a accepté de m'écouter cinq minutes dans un studio. J'ai joué pendant vingt minutes. Il m'a dit: "Tu reviens dans deux semaines. Ainsi m'a-t-on confié une émission hebdomadaire d'une heure où je jouais en direct le répertoire arabo-andalou.» Au milieu des années 40, la réputation de Lili traverse la Méditerranée, quand le Soleil d'Algérie, un cabaret de la rue du Faubourg-Montmartre de Paris, l'engage. «Il y avait un client qui venait pratiquement chaque soir, toujours accompagné d'une dizaine de copains. C'était François Mitterrand. Vers minuit, il me disait: "Je dois aller à l'Assemblée nationale, je reviens à 2 heures. Lili, restez là. D'ailleurs, dans les années 80, Roger Hanin m'appelait souvent pour me dire: "Il y a Tonton qui veut te voir. J'allais chez Mitterrand qui me demandait de lui jouer pratiquement toutes les chansons de mon répertoire.»

Silencieux par amour. Au Soleil d'Algérie, Boniche rencontre aussi une riche comtesse qui s'amourache de lui: «Elle m'a dit: "Je ne veux pas que tu chantes. Je suis donc revenu avec elle, en 1949, à Alger, où j'ai acheté quatre cinémas. Ça a bien marché jusqu'aux "événements," et nous avons quitté le pays en 1962, année de l'indépendance, en laissant tout.»

A Paris, Lili Boniche se reconvertit dans la restauration d'entreprise, 300 couverts au début, «18 000 dix mois plus tard». Au bout de dix ans, il bifurque vers les fournitures de bureau, avant d'abandonner les affaires. «Je ne faisais plus rien, juste chanter pour les amis. Je suis revenu sur scène à la fin des années 80. Je vis en France depuis près de quarante ans, et mes seuls amis sont ceux de là-bas. Ils viennent régulièrement chez moi à Cannes. On se fait de grands repas et on joue pendant des heures. Je prie tout le temps pour que la paix revienne en Algérie. Je voudrais tant y chanter avant de mourir.».



#2

Lili Boniche Renaissance D'une Star De La Casbah D'Alger: L'homme a tout faire

By Veronique Mortaigne
Le Monde, May 2, 1991

[the copy I have is missing the accents, and I've tried to fix that, but it's still not perfect...]

En 1933, le jeune Elie - dit Lili - Boniche joue de la mandoline dans la basse casbah d'Alger, ou l'on pratique le shaabi, un derive populaire de la musique classique arabo-andalouse, traces preservées de la communaute juive d'Espagne, contrainte au retour en Afrique du Nord avec les derniers Maures a la fin du quinzieme siecle. Le garnement en culottes courtes a du talent. M. Boniche père confie son rejeton a Saoud l'Oranais, un des grands maitres du genre arabo-andalou, dont l'eleve la plus rayonnante s'appelle alors Reinette l'Oranaise. De lui, Lili apprendra le luth et tous les ressorts de ce "classique de société", le haouzi, version plus rurale du chaabi algerois, née dans les faubourgs de Tlemcen.

Reinette reste a Oran, Lili revient a Alger. Deux ans plus tard, a quinze ans et demi, Lili Boniche et son orchestre commencent a ecumer les nuits de la ville blanche. M. Azrou, directeur de Radio-Alger, leur offre une tranche d'une heure hebdomadaire l'après-midi, un espace reserve au chaabi, mais aussi a la tradition classique heritée des noubas judeo-espagnoles, que Lili a etudiée avec Mohamed Chitan ou Mahieddine, dans les sociétés musicales de la Moutribia et d'El-Moussilia.

Lili Boniche, aujourd'hui un homme svelte au sourire etincelant, a le temperament charmeur, le coeur sur la mainet la parole facile. "Chez nous, les soirées duraient jusqu'a trois heures du matin. A minuit, les pauvres, je sentais qu'ils s'enquiquinaient avec le repertoire classique. Je ne pouvais pas les laisser comme ça." Et Lili sort alors de sa musette quelques farces en "francarabe," conviviales, dansantes, abandonne le luth pour la guitare, adapte des tangos, des paso doble, des istihbar (preludes de flamenco) a tour de bras, compose de genereuses complaintes (Alger, Alger) et met des couleurs endiablées sur des chansons de mariage.

Arrive la seconde guerre mondiale. Lili Boniche est célèbre au Maghreb, fait des tournées et anime le theatre aux armées. Tous les lundis, galas a l'opera d'Alger pour les militaires. Les generaux, "Moravilia, Weiss, ils sont tous la". En 1946, il tente l'aventure parisienne. Au Soleil d'Algerie, cabaret proche de la place Pigalle, il se produit avec un pianiste. "Ca ne desemplissait pas, se souvient Lili, un tantinet emphatique. Des ministres, des stars, des deputes, des clients extraordinaires. Deux ans de succes. Et puis, je me suis fait kidnapper." Eh oui, Lili Boniche fait un beau mariage...

Le chanteur de charme raccroche sa guitare et se lance dans les affaires. De retour a Alger en 1950, il devient proprietaire de quatre salles de cinema du centre-ville. Avec les premiers attentats en 1958, les salles se vident. "Mais, moi, je n'ai jamais eu une seule bombe." L'independance le ramene a Paris. Entre deux reunions du conseil d'administration de son entreprise de restauration industrielle installée au Pre-Saint-Gervais, "Monsieur Boniche" fait des soirées, "decontractées, quand je voulais, des mariages, des communions", dans la communaute juive maghrebine de Paris.

Apres une faillité fatale ("Que voulez-vous, le batiment s'est ecroule!"), une reconversion dans les fournitures de bureau pour les administrations, Lili Boniche chanteur est redecouvert, il y a deux ans, par Francis Falceto, un des artisans de l'introduction des musiques du monde a Bourges, et Michel Levy, l'agent de Reinette l'Oranaise, recent repreneur du catalogue Doumia, label qui avait regroupé jusqu'a l'independance les plus beaux defenseurs de la musique des juifs d'Afrique du Nord. Un passage a Bordeaux, a l'occasion du Festival MELA, des teles, les honneurs de France-Culture, le succulent arrangeur de Bambino et de C'est l'histoire d'un amour en arabe se refait une seconde jeunesse. Pour Bourges, il s'est entoure d'une formation "modernisée" (piano, violon, basse electrique, batterie et guitare). Lili, l'oeil vif et la confiance a toute epreuve, a repatiné ses succes a la couleur du jour, moins franchement "francarabes", mais toujours aussi entrainants.


#3 

Algérie andalouse : Lili Boniche et El Gusto (excerpt)
by François Bensignor
Hommes et migrations 1295 (2012)

available through open source here

Lili Boniche (1921 - 2008)

Né dans une famille modeste, Élie, que l’on surnomme affectueusement Lili, était l’aîné de quatre enfants. Très jeune il est devenu le soutien de la famille. Son père était un artisan joaillier. Ayant perdu la vue, il ne pouvait plus exercer son métier. C’est donc au jeune aîné de la famille que revint la charge d’entretenir ses parents, frères et sœurs. Originaire d’Akbou en Kabylie, le père d’Élie Boniche était aussi un bon joueur de mandole. Dès l’âge de 7 ans, Lili lui chipe son instrument pour aller s’exercer sur le toit de la maison. En petit prodige et pur autodidacte, il rejoue d’oreille toutes les chansons qu’il entend chanter dans les cafés ou à la TSF. Et sa voix enfantine s’élève au-dessus des toits de la Casbah d’Alger.

L’immeuble qu’habite la famille Boniche se trouve au bas de la Casbah, rue Randon, une rue animée, dans laquelle vivent principalement des familles juives. Elle relie la place Rabbin-Bloch, où se dresse la grande synagogue, à la place de la Lyre avec son grand marché couvert. Dans la Casbah, on vit dehors et le petit Élie est toujours attiré par les cafés maures d’où proviennent ces musiques qui le charment. Une voix le fascine tout particulièrement, celle de Messaoud Medioni (1893-1943), dit Saoud l’Oranais. C’est un grand maître de la musique arabo-andalouse, notamment du genre haouzi, développé à Tlemcen où s’est perpétuée depuis le XVIe siècle l’école de Cordoue, et dont la transmission s’est répandue de maître à disciple jusque dans la région d’Oran.

En 1931, Lili profite d’un passage à Alger du chanteur oranais pour se présenter devant lui. Quand le jeune garçon donne de la voix, le maître Saoud, subjugué par le diamant brut qu’il vient de découvrir, décide de prendre en main sa formation en l’intégrant à son orchestre. Quelle meilleure école pourrait-il trouver? Juif, comme beaucoup de grands musiciens algériens, Saoud Medioni entend transmettre son savoir à de jeunes musiciens qui partagent la même confession. Reste à convaincre le père de Lili, qui refuse de voir son aîné s’embarquer dans une carrière de musicien...Alors qu’il se montre intraitable, Élie s’effondre en pleurs et supplications, si bien qu’il parvient à fléchir la raideur de son père. Saoud sait également trouver les mots pour obtenir son assentiment, en annonçant qu’il prend en charge tous les frais du garçon, qui recevra en outre un salaire mensuel. À dix ans, Lili rejoint ainsi l’orchestre d’un des plus célèbres chanteurs de l’époque qui lui permet de contribuera l’entretien de sa famille. Au sein de la troupe, il rencontre une autre jeune disciple, de six ans son aînée, Sultana Daoud, que le maître a surnommée Reinette. Elle a perdu la vue à l’âge de 2 ans et se fera connaître sous le nom de Reinette l’Oranaise. Sur scène, Lili joue du mandole, puis du oud et s’initie surtout à la spécialité du maître: le répertoire complexe et étendu du chant oranais, hérité du haouzi. Durant trois ans, il va suivre son maître dans les galas qu’il donne à travers tout le Maghreb, sans retourner chez lui.

Les débuts à la radio

13 ans, c’est l’âge où les adolescents juifs songent à faire leur barmitsva, rite religieux marquant l’accession à l’état de personne à part entière dans la communauté. Élie demande au maître l’autorisation d’aller fêter ce moment de passage symbolique en famille à Alger. Non seulement il l’obtient, mais Saoud en personne animera la fête. Afin de compléter ses connaissances dans le domaine de la musique arabo-andalouse, Lili va alors s’initier au sein des deux plus grandes associations musicales algéroises de l’époque, El Moutribia (fondée en 1911) et El Mossilia (fondée en 1932), dont il suivra l’enseignement durant deux ans. En 1936, Lili Boniche, sans complexe et prêt à tout, décide de tenter sa chance à Radio Alger. Il rassemble quatre de ses amis avec lesquels il a l’habitude de jouer et se présente crânement au portier de la radio, son luth sous le bras. L’homme n’a pas l’intention de faire entrer ce gamin, mais se laisse fléchir par sa force de conviction et prévient le directeur qu’un jeune chanteur est là, qui veut passer une audition. Monsieur Azrou, qui dirige alors Radio Alger, accepte d’accorder cinq minutes au garçon, qui appelle ses amis. Les voilà en studio. Passent les cinq minutes et Lili chante; au bout de dix minutes, il commence à s’inquiéter de l’absence de réactions du directeur; quinze minutes s’écoulent qui lui paraissent une éternité; enfin, au bout de vingt minutes, il voit derrière la vitre monsieur Azrou lui faire signe d’arrêter. Celui-ci fait irruption dans le studio et s’adresse au chanteur: “Écoute, mon petit, la semaine prochaine tu as ton émission!” Dès lors, la voix de Lili Boniche sera diffusée en direct chaque semaine dans toute l’Algérie. À 15 ans, sa carrière est lancée.

Ses premières prestations radiophoniques sont constituées de pièces tirées du répertoire arabo- andalou des grandes traditions oranaise et algéroise. Grâce à son émission, la réputation de Lili Boniche grandit en quelques mois. Il est bientôt sollicité de toutes parts pour animer des fêtes: mariages, baptêmes, barmitsva, etc. La radio nationale lui fait aussi bénéficier de son orchestre qui rassemble certains des meilleurs musiciens d’Algérie, comme le pianiste et chef d’orchestre Mustapha Skandrani, le violoniste Abdel Rahni ou Arlilo, joueur de derbouka réputé. À la fin des années trente, sa voix d’or est réclamée dans toute l’Algérie. Avec la guerre, les goûts du public vont évoluer. Les troupes américaines, débarquées le 8 novembre 1942, se regroupent en même temps que les forces françaises libres pour préparer l’assaut en Méditerranée. Saoud El Medioni fera partie des nombreuses victimes de la barbarie nazie. Alors qu’en 1937 il a ouvert un cabaret rue Bergère à Paris, il sera pris dans une rafle à Marseille, le 23 janvier 1943, déporté puis gazé au camp d’extermination de Sobibor. Une perte considérable pour tant de mélomanes et de disciples.

Un savant mélangeur de genres

En temps de guerre, on demande aux artistes de regonfler le moral des troupes. La nature enjouée de Lili Boniche l’y porte tout naturellement. Ainsi se produit-il devant les combattants de la Résistance à la demande de leurs généraux, Moraglia, chef des FFI, Pierre Weiss, etc. Au théâtre aux armées, à l’Opéra d’Alger, il chante aussi devant les soldats américains, pour lesquels il créera une chanson sur le chewing-gum...Ouvert aux nouvelles danses venues d’Amérique et des Caraïbes, Lili Boniche introduit les rythmes du tango, du paso-doble ou du mambo dans son style musical, agrémentés de paroles franco-arabes. Ces nouvelles créations intégreront son répertoire pour les fêtes. En effet, il a constaté que le public pique du nez surles coups de minuit, après deux ou trois heures de musique classique arabo-andalouse. Avec ces chansons, qui tiennent le public éveillé jusque tard dans la nuit, le jeune chanteur donne le ton. Son nouveau style francarabe explose bientôt des deux côtés de la Méditerranée.

La guerre terminée, Lili Boniche est engagé au Soleil d’Algérie, un cabaret de la rue du Faubourg-Montmartre à Paris, où il se rend pour la première fois en 1946. Parmi toutes les célébrités qui fréquentent l’établissement, François Mitterrand, alors député, s’entiche des chansons du crooner algérien. Celle qu’il adore par-dessus tout, c’est L’Oriental. La joie renaît dans ce Paris de l’après-guerre. Une phrase attrapée au vol ou un bon mot suffisent à nourrir l’inspiration du chanteur. À 26 ans, Lili Boniche est porté par le tourbillon de joie qu’il contribue lui-même à créer. Jeune et beau, il plaît aux femmes. Un soir, c’est le coup de foudre! Elle se prénomme Marthe, elle est d’une élégance folle, elle porte le titre de comtesse et elle est l’épouse d’un richissime armateur. Un amour dévorant, exclusif, s’empare des deux amants. Mais il ne peut se satisfaire du métier du chanteur...Marthe va quitter son mari pour Élie, Élie devra quitter la chanson !

Dans les années cinquante, Lili Boniche met fin à sa première carrière musicale en France, mais continue de chanter à Alger, où il rachète quatre salles de cinéma en perte de vitesse. Il les relance grâce à son talent de programmateur et les gérera avec succès jusqu’à l’indépendance de l’Algérie. Mais il aura déjà quitté son pays natal avant le grand exode des Juifs et des pieds- noirs. Installé à Paris au début des années soixante, il acquiert d’abord un restaurant avec des amis, puis monte une société de repas pour entreprises et collectivités, Le Menu parisien, qui emploiera jusqu’à 180 personnes à l’apogée de son activité. Il pratique la musique en privé, souvent accompagné de ses anciens musiciens d’Alger avec lesquels il a gardé d’excellentes relations. Il est souvent sollicité pour chanter dans les fêtes de la communauté. Et c’est au sein de celle-ci qu’il rencontre l’âme sœur, quand son premier mariage commence à battre de l’aile. Avant le milieu des années soixante, Lili Boniche a divorcé et s’est remarié avec celle qui l’accompagnera jusqu’à la fin de ses jours.

Un retour sur scène tardif et inespéré

Sa deuxième carrière de chanteur, Lili Boniche l’entame en 1990. Il vit à cette époque une retraite tranquille et méritée, après avoir monté une entreprise de fournitures de bureau dans les années soixante-dix, puis avoir commercialisé les premières mini calculatrices de la société Commodore France. Certes, il continue à donner de petits concerts privés, mais l’opportunité qui lui est offerte d’un retour à la musique en professionnel lui apparaît comme un vrai cadeau. Son retour, il le doit à Francis Falceto. Mélomane, journaliste, homme de culture, celui-ci rêve d’entendre à nouveau sur scène la vedette du style francarabe dont il adore les disques. “Quand j’ai débarqué chez lui, je crois que c’était une grande surprise pour Lili. Ni lui, ni moi ne savions si ça allait prendre. Dès le début ça s’est bien passé dans le rapport au public (...). La greffe a pris tout de suite”, explique-t-il. Parmi ses accompagnateurs, Lili Boniche retrouve le pianiste Maurice El Medioni, neveu de Saoud l’Oranais et autre retraité bientôt célébré par les professionnels et les publics internationaux des musiques du monde. Avec le violoniste Maurice Selem, ils vont tourner dans toute l’Europe et s’envoler jusqu’au Japon. Afin que l’aventure prenne sa pleine dimension, un disque reste à faire. C’est Jean Touitou, pape de la mode, qui décidera de le produire en 1996. Il porte une profonde admiration au chanteur de 75 ans installé à Cannes, et confie la direction artistique de l’album à Bill Laswell, bassiste et producteur américain réputé pour la finesse de ses goûts en matière de world music. Grâce à ces deux admirateurs, la musique de Lili Boniche pénètre les milieux les plus branchés de la toute fin du XXe siècle. Adulé des publics qui l’acclament au Barbican de Londres comme à l’Olympia de Paris ou à travers l’Europe (Allemagne, Belgique, Suède, Suisse, Italie, Espagne, etc.), le chanteur savoure ce succès formidable avec gentillesse, humour et humilité, au-delà de ses 80 ans. À chacun de ses concerts, l’émotion était au rendez-vous. Quand Safinez Bousbia contacte la fille de Lili Boniche pour lui demander s’il souhaite participer à l’aventure El Gusto, le chanteur n’est plus en mesure de monter sur scène. Bien qu’il n’ait pas pu régaler les foules au sein du grand orchestre, certaines de ses plus belles chansons figurent à son répertoire. Ainsi, son œuvre lui survit.


#4

Lili Boniche, on l'appelle l'Oriental
by Zoé Lin
L'Humanité June 8, 1999

found online here

Dans les années trente, adolescent, il devient la star de la chanson algéroise. Malgré des absences et des errances, Lili Boniche demeure à jamais le crooner de la Casbah. Son retour à l'Olympia est un événement à ne pas rater.

Pour les uns, mythe vivant de la musique arabo-andalouse. Pour Enrico Macias, "un patrimoine" de l'Algérie. Pour les plus jeunes, la découverte d'une chanson françarabe orientale, un tantinet kitsch et très mode. Pour tous les autres, juifs, musulmans ou chrétiens, Lili Boniche, c'est l'enfant de la Casbah, l'enfant de la balle, parti de rien et "qui transforme en or tout ce qu'il touche". "Je suis né dans la crépine!", ajoute-t-il le plus sérieusement du monde. Lili Boniche adore se raconter, non pour vous en mettre plein la vue. À son échelle, il n'a plus rien à prouver. La vie lui a tout donné: gloire, femmes, argent. On pourrait s'attendre à rencontrer un vieux monsieur à qui on ne la fait pas: pensez donc! Il émane de sa personne un plaisir contagieux de chanter, de rire et de s'amuser. Une élégance naturelle que seuls quelques-uns, voyous au cour d'or, portent avec une aisance rare. Boniche aime les pompes bicolores, les costumes taillés sur mesure et les belles femmes ; les grands orchestres et les mondanités. Il aime aussi les bas-fonds, les petites salles enfumées et louches. Et par-dessus tout le peuple algérois, ses frères; Alger, sa ville; l'Algérie, son pays.

À la fin des années trente, il est un des personnages les plus populaires de son pays. Après avoir suivi l'enseignement du haousi par l'un des principaux maîtres, Saoud l'Oranais, il y fait ses premières gammes aux côtés de Reinette l'Oranaise, il maîtrise à la perfection le répertoire de la musique traditionnelle arabo-andalouse. Excellent joueur de luth, il intègre quelques sociétés classiques comme la Moutribia et El Moussilia. À quinze ans, il présente, au culot, un projet d'émission hebdomadaire au directeur de Radio-Alger qui, séduit par le bonhomme, lui confie l'antenne. Ce rendez-vous lui confère une réputation et une aura qui ne le quitteront jamais. Il écrit des dizaines de chansons, "Elles me venaient toutes comme ça, sans réfléchir" et les chantent à l'antenne. Il fait dans le tango, le paso doble, le mambo - tous les rythmes en vogue - et leur originalité réside dans cette sonorité orientale unique. Il les enrichit de phrases mélodiques typiquement arabes. Il crée la chanson populaire algéroise, subtil mélange de mélopées juives et gitanes, d'airs glamour et de flamenco, précurseur du chââbi. Lili Boniche devient une star à Alger. Il ne lui reste qu'à partir à la conquête du rêve américain. Quelques prestations dans des cabarets en font la coqueluche du tout-Paris.

Cherchez la femme. C'est à cause d'une comtesse qu'il arrête de se produire : "Elle ne supportait plus toutes ces femmes autour de moi." Boniche tourne la page, on est au début des années cinquante, achète un, puis quatre cinémas à Alger, fait d'incessants allers-retours Paris-Alger. Surviennent les "événements". Ses salles subissent le contrecoup des tensions et se vident. Au moment de l'indépendance, l'Etat Algérien les confisque. Il s'installe définitivement en France. Touche-à-tout, il se lance dans la restauration, réussit sa première reconversion. Change quelques années plus tard de casquette et devient représentant en matériel de bureau. De tout cela, il parle sans l'once d'un regret. Il sourit à l'évocation de son passé même si, au seul souvenir d'Alger la Blanche, ses yeux se voilent très légèrement. Il balaie tout ça d'un revers de main, "Mektoub", c'est le destin.

Il continue, malgré ses obligations professionnelles, à se produire au cours de soirées privées. "Jusqu'à la fin des années quatre-vingt, la communauté juive me demandait tout le temps. Ça payait très bien!" Guerre du Golfe, crise, Lili Boniche chante ailleurs, au Japon, en Allemagne, en Italie. Puis, on entend ses chansons au détour d'un film, d'un documentaire. Dans le Grand Pardon, la Vérité si je mens, ou Mémoire d'immigrés. Jean Touitou, patron d'APC, une maison de couture atypique, lui propose d'enregistrer un album. Bill Laswell est à la production. Lili Boniche exulte: "C'est l'Américain qui a effectué le déplacement!" L'enregistrement doit se dérouler sur huit jours: "En 48 heures, c'était fini. Ils en sont restés babas." Il prend l'air d'un garnement qui vient de jouer un tour. Une première soirée plus ou moins privée à l'Elysée-Montmartre. Une apparition pour les Folles Nuit du Ramadan. Boniche ne se contient plus de joie. Grand pro devant l'éternel, le public qui se presse succombe à son charme de crooner oriental. "À la fin de la représentation, les femmes se sont précipitées sur moi. Elles voulaient toutes me toucher. Le soir, j'ai retrouvé des dizaines de numéros de téléphone qu'elles avaient glissés dans mes poches."

L'Olympia l'accueille pour un concert unique. Lili Boniche trépigne d'impatience. Il n'a toujours pas résolu la couleur de son costume. Le voilà reparti sur les traces de sa mémoire. "Si vous saviez comme ils m'aimaient les Arabes...Mes meilleurs amis étaient les Arabes d'Alger". Avec son ami d'enfance, le pianiste Mustapha Skandrani, son violoniste Abdelrami, ils ont écrit les plus belles pages de la chanson populaire algéroise. Sans jamais se renier, ils ont inventé une musique métissée aux couleurs de leur pays. Lili Boniche a pratiqué la chanson comme un art mineur, sans le savoir. L'aspect désuet de ses chansons, légèrement décalé, son personnage de crooner, loin de toute nostalgie, laisse espérer d'autres possibles.

#5

Here are some high points, very briefly. Born and raised in Algiers, his father a Berber, a fine mandole player. Lili started playing mandole very young. At 10 he apprenticed with the Oran haouzi master Seoud l'Oranais (family name: Medioni), for three years, where he learned the Andalusian tradition. He returned to Algiers and studied at the Moutribia and El Moussilia music societies, learning from the likes of the masters Mohamed Chitane, Lili Labassi and Mahieddine Bachtarzi. At 15 he began doing weekly broadcasts on Radio Alger. He immediately became well known and much in demand to play at weddings and other festivals. His "orchestre" included renowned pianist orchestra head Mustapha Skandrani, violinist Abdel Rahni and Arlilo on derbouka.

During the war he played for both the French resistance and the US troops. Tastes changed and Boniche evolved. There are two stories here: one, that it was the US influence that brought about his invention of the "francarabe" style, mixing in mambo, tango, paso-doble but maintaining an "Oriental" base, all the while reflecting that he was steeped in the Andalusian tradition. The other is that after a night of performing the classical tradition for several hours, after midnight it was time to give the audience a break and play some lighter fare.

Boniche was very popular throughout the forties, in both Algeria and France, but he gave the music business up for love, in 1949, and returned to Algiers to go into business. (He still performed privately.) He was forced into exile in France in the early sixties, and was a successful businessman there too. (But he continued to play for Jewish community feasts.)

In 1988 or 1990 (both dates are given) he re-launched his music career, performing in Europe and Japan with violinist Maurice Selem, and sometimes worked with Orani pianist Maurice El Medioni. His recording with producer Bill Laswell in 1996, Alger, Alger, launched him on the world music and very hip touring scene. By the time the El Gusto project was launched, however, he was not physically able. It's too bad, he would have been perfect.

Lili Boniche disco


In a previous post I wished that Jewish Morocco's post on cover cheikhs had provided the name of the Lili Boniche disco track he referred to. And now he has supplied it. The track in question is "Le renard du desert" (the Desert Fox, i.e. Field Marshal Rommel?!), the B side of this 45". It was released in 1976 on the French Carissima label.

Unfortunately I've not been able to find the track in question. The 1976 version of the A side, "N'oublie jamais tes parents" (Never forget your parents), I've not found either. But here's an updated version, from 2003. And an earlier version (but from when?) is available on his Anthologie album.

Now, how about the outfit he's in here? And that bow tie?! As for the two flags (Israel, Algeria), a pairing which would not please many Algerians or Israelis, that is symptomatic of the two incongruous pulls on the identity and loyalties of an Algerian Jew ("The Crooner of the Casbah"), based in France ever since the 1950s or '60s. Lili Boniche (b. 1921) passed away in Paris in 2008.

A great introduction to Boniche is the album he recorded with Bill Laswell in 1999, Alger, Alger (APC), which, alas, is now out of print.

Friday, December 27, 2013

Cafe Gibraltar mix from Maor Anava, with Jasmin & Acher Almagribi, Raymonde, and Koko

Café Gibraltar, from the progressive Israeli online publication 972 Magazine, often presents some nice mixes. I particularly liked the first three tracks on this recent mix ("Sounds from the Other Israel") from Israeli DJ Maor Anava, whose father is Syrian (Aleppo) and whose grandmother was Moroccan. He was one of the founders of Fortuna Records, whose project is to put out rare psychedelic Middle Eastern and Israeli recordings. You can listen to some of their stuff here, including a sample of their first release, by Grazia. And you can check out a podcast that Zack from Fortuna did for Gilles Peterson World Wide here. (It has some Cheikh Mwijo and some Omar Khorshid, so it's worth a listen.)

The first track (after an introduction) is a great one, "Loumina" from Jasmin and Acher Almagribi. I really like Jasmin's voice. I can't find anything about them, but there are a number of recordings of Acher up on youtube. I particularly liked this one, a live performance of "Mahani Zine," a song made popular originally (I believe) by Sami Halali.



The electric guitar is great here. Comments suggest that the more common English spelling of this singer is El Maghribi, and that this is recorded in Morocco but that Acher is now based in Israel.

The second track is "Ash Blani Bik Tah Blitini" from Raymonde. This is Raymonde El Bidaouia, born in Casablanca in 1943, emigrated to Israel with her family in 1952, and who recorded in Israel but was also very popular back in Morocco. She gets a great writeup from Jewish Morocco here.

Here she is doing "Chouf Ghero," a really terrific song.


It was also a hit for the great Najat Aatabou, and appears (spelled "Shouffi Rhirou") on her 1991 release for Global Style, The Voice of the Atlas, and also, as "Go Find Another Guy (Shoufi Ghirou)," on her 1997 Rounder recording, Country Girls and City Women. Here's a great live recording of Najat Aatabou doing the song on Beur TV. 3 Mustaphas 3 covered quite decently on their first album (1987), Shopping. I don't know when Najat first recorded it, but presumably it was before 1987, when 3 Mustaphas 3 got their hands on it. And I assume that Najat was covering an original by Raymonde.

Finally, there is "Echo Capsses" from Koko. I have no idea who Koko is but I love the song, especially the Greek style guitar. Listen to it here. This is typical "Israeli Mediterranean Music," the hybrid musical genre created by Israeli Mizrahis. It's typical because when it was still on the margins -- the sixties through the eighties -- it was not really acceptable for it to sound too "Eastern," i.e., Arab, and so a Greek sound was a way to be acceptably, sort of, Eastern. You can read all about the genre in Amy Horowitz's great book, Mediterranean Israeli Music and the Politics of the Aesthetic

Finally, check out the website of Victor Kiswell, which is where Maor Anava acquires a lot of his rare music. Click on the Arabic Oriental link and you will find all sorts of amazing stuff. If you are like me you will find the prices a bit rich for your taste, but it's a way to find out about rare recordings that you will not know about. I plan to introduce some here in future.

Cover Cheikhs

A holiday gift from the invaluable blog Jewish Morocco, this take on three covers from Algerian singers.

1. Mahieddine Bentir (who I blogged about previously, in a post kindly cited by Jewish Morocco), does a cover of "Le marchand de bonheur" (done here by André Roc), called "Anaya Bouhali."

2. Lili Boniche does a cover of Charles Aznavour's "La Mama," called "Ya Yemma." (Jewish Morocco is of the opinion that Boniche's cover is more powerful than the original. You decide. By the way, Aznavour was born Shahnour Varenagh Aznavourian, to Armenian immigrants to France.)

3. Salim Halali does a cover of Yossele Rosenblatt's "Ma Yiddishe Mama." Hilali keeps the same title but does the song in Arabic. It's amazing. Jewish Morocco thinks it's the only Yiddish song translated into Arabic.

The post also mentions that Lili Boniche, like his Jewish-Algerian compatriot Luc Cherki, even recorded a disco EP. Check out Cherki's "Discoriental" here. I wish Jewish Morocco would provide the title of that Boniche-gone-disco track.

And I really really wish that someone will turn up the Mahieddine Bachetarzi cover of Josephine Baker’s "J’ai deux amours" that Jewish Morocco mentions. ("J'ai deux amours/Mon pays et Paris.")


Friday, December 20, 2013

drone life #whatever: Bride and Boom! (How the New York Post smirks about murdered Yemeni wedding guests)

Here's the cover of the December 13th  New York Post, smirking about the murder of 11-17 Yemeni civilian wedding guests.


Please read Tom Engelhardt's report

The reference was to a caravan of vehicles on its way to or from a wedding in Yemen that was eviscerated, evidently by a U.S. drone via one of those “surgical” strikes of which Washington is so proud.  As one report put it, “Scorched vehicles and body parts were left scattered on the road.”

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Mandela Morocco/Algeria postscript

I posted a photo of Nelson Mandela in a kufiya on December 21, 2012. He was wearing it Algiers, which he visited in May 1990 to see his former FLN contacts, who gave him and his comrade Robert Resha (d. 1974) military training in Morocco in March-April 1962.

Since Mandela's death this photo of him in Oujda, Morocco in March 1962 has been circulating a lot.


Mandela is in the second row, wearing shades. The man in front of him, in the brown sports jacket, is Ahmed Ben Bella, first President of Algeria, from 1963-65. He was deposed by the man with the mustache, wearing a tie and a light overcoat, Houari Boumedienne, who served as Chair of Algeria's Revolutionary Council from June 1965 to December 1976, and from then until December 1978 as Algeria's second President. (It may be Amilcar Cabral of the PAIGC standing between Boumedienne and Ben Bella.)

(As an aside, I'm glad that Mandela and the ANC did not adopt the policy toward Jewish South Africans that the FLN took toward Jewish Algerians.)

Mandela stated, on his arrival in Algeria on a state visit in 1990 that "it was the Algerian army [i.e., the Algerian Liberation Army] that made him a man."


Here's a photo of Mandela (center), his ANC comrade Robert Resha, and his trainer Mohamed Lamari. (For some reason several Algerian sources identify Resha mistakenly as Hamilcar [sic] Cabral. Amilcar Cabral was the leader of the Guinea-Bissau and Cape Verde national movement for independence, the PAIGC.) Lt. Gen. Lamari was part of the officer corps that overthrew Algerian President Chadli Benjadid in 1992, and he became the army Chief of Staff in 1993, a position he held until 2004. That is, he was the head military man during the bloody Algerian civil war. As head of the army, and as an "eradicationist," that is, someone who rejected any negotiation with the Islamist opposition. No doubt he was responsible for numerous war crimes.

Read more about Mandela and Algeria here (in French).

Kufiyaspotting remembered: Tahrir in the New York Times

Today's (December 15) New York Times featured this photo (in both the print and the online versions) from Jehane Noujaim's very well-received documentary on the Egyptian uprising of January-February 2011, The Square ("Al Midan"), and its complicated. (From Manohla Dargis' article "The Festival World, and What's Beyond." Online, it's photo 14.)

Noujaim Films

Almost three years later, Egypt is a total mess. But those were glorious days on Tahrir, in early 2011, it is important to remember, and it ("the revolution" or whatever it is) is not necessarily over. And the kufiya was and continues to be an important sartorial symbol of those days. And of coming ones.

<Here are some earlier Tahrir kufiya posts.>

Meanwhile, here's a trailer for the film. And more kufiyas.


Saturday, December 14, 2013

Rue Georges-Picot, Beirut, 1958

I sooooo love this photo by Thomas Abercrombie from the April 1958 issue of National Geographic, and featured as "photo of the day" on the National Geographic website on August 23, 2013. (For a somewhat clearer view of the photo, click on the link.)


It is from story by Abercrombie about "Young-old Lebanon," and its caption read, in part: "For variety, few cities can match Lebanon's bustling capital. Part Christian, part Moslem, Beirut combines East and West, ancient and modern. Contrasts stand out vividly in street scenes such as this on the Rue Georges Picot. … A sign over the blouse shop shows the cedar, Lebanon's national symbol. The market-bound shepherd in Near Eastern headdress and Western jacket icily ignores the latest European fashions."

I don't love the photo precisely for the reasons enumerated in the caption, although that is part of it. I think to make sense of the photo, it is better to jettison the notion that it juxtaposes East and West and ancient and modern. Rather, this is just a guy from the countryside who has brought his herd to the city to sell to a butcher. His clothes, like those of the others in the photo, are machine-made, from head to toe, he is probably wearing a wristwatch, and he is just as likely to drink the Coca-Cola sold in the grocery store (baqqala) pictured on the left as the more modern others in the photo. But he is probably ignoring them, as they no doubt feel themselves more urbane and sophisticated and superior to the lowly herder.

As someone who lived in Beirut between 1964 and 1976, and who made my first visit there in 1961, the scene is very familiar to me, and it captures so much. The "baqqala" is a typical one, selling not just Coca-Cola but Chiclets and Fab detergent (there are signs for these) as well as bananas and eggs and oranges and grapefruit (all very fresh), and really, everything you need. Next door is an embroidery (broderie in French, tatriz in Arabic) shop owned by an Armenian (V. Oflazian), with its sign in French, Armenian and Arabic, and the the cedar tree. It is having a sale, indicated by the "Occasion" sign (in French and Arabic) that is partially obscured by the two chicly dressed women. The two young men are very smartly turned out as well.

Note as well the tram line. During the first couple years I lived in Beirut, we often used to ride the tram from West Beirut (Bliss Street) to downtown. Rue Georges-Picot (named after French diplomat François Georges-Picot, one of the infamous authors of the Sykes-Picot Agreement) was the west extension of Rue Weygand (named after the French commander Maxime Weygand). Just a ways further along west from here is Wadi Jamil, Beirut's Jewish quarter. When I lived there, of course, street names, except for a few, were not used all that commonly, and we just knew this area as Bab Idris. It's hard for me to tell, it may be known now as Omar Daouk Street.

Here's a bit of a map to show where it is (you can read George Picot right below the Normandy Hotel). You can see the entire map, produced by the US Army Corps of Engineers Map Service in 1961, here, courtesy of the University of Texas Perry-Castaneda Library.


Here are a couple older photos of Rue Georges-Picot, this one from 1920 (and perhaps before it was even called Georges-Picot), looking west. The tram line is in evidence (it dates from 1908, put in by the Ottomans.)


And another, looking east I think, and somewhat later than 1920.


And this one is from the late sixties or early seventies. It's labeled as Rue Weygand, and that is where it is taken from, but just up the street it becomes Georges-Picot. It's a scan of a postcard my grandmother Claudia purchased when she visited Beirut in 1972.


Note the bus: these replaced the trams in 1965. They were faster and cleaner but the trams were way more fun.

 tram, 1965, copyright Charles Cushman

Beirut Tram on Parliament Square [1965] | Copyright Charles W. Cushman - See more at: http://oldbeirut.com/post/13807808775/beirut-tram-on-parliament-square-1965#sthash.KxzsTFmN.dpuf



Beirut Tram on Parliament Square [1965] | Copyright Charles W. Cushman - See more at: http://oldbeirut.com/post/13807808775/beirut-tram-on-parliament-square-1965#sthash.KxzsTFmN.dpuf

Mahragan (electro sha'abi) at the Norient Musikfilm Festival, Bern, Jan. 9-11, 2014


I was asked to write the program notes on electro sha'abi (better known in Egypt as mahragan) for the 2014 Norient Musikfilm Festival, and they were just published today. You can read them here in English, and for the first time, something I wrote has also been translated into German, which you can read here.

The Festival program is very exciting, and I really wish I could attend. (But there is that cash flow problem...).

On the mahragan/electro sha'abi front, the festival features a very fine documentary on the mahragan scene, Hind Meddeb's Electro Chaabi. Here's a trailer:



Plus there is a Cairo Electro Sha'abi Club Night, featuring (live!) the mahragan stars MC Sadat and MC 'Alaa 50 Cent with DJ Ramy from Cairo, plus the Dutch electro sha'abi dj's Cairo Liberation Front. Very exciting.

MC Sadat

The festival will also screen the terrific film about Algerian shaabi (very very different from Egypt's electro shaabi!) and the recent reunion and tour of Jewish and Muslim shaabi musicians, El Gusto.

Plus films about Pussy Riot and the cultural scene around Mexico's narcotraficantes.

If you are anywhere near Bern you should go!

Sunday, December 08, 2013

Origins of rai: Ahmed Saber

Ahmed Saber (1930-71) is one of Oran's most celebrated ouahrani artists. One could also simply call the genre he performed in, as does the blog Phocéephone, "algérien moderne."

Phocéephone recently posted a couple of terrific tracks from Ahmed Saber, which it describes as having a Berber rhythm, an Arab arrangement. They are: "El Khedma"



and "El Khayene."

as well as a photo of the '45 record jacket:


And finally, Phocéephone posted a link to an article about Ahmed Saber, in French. It treads a little more lightly than Andy Morgan does in his article about rai in the Rough Guide to World Music. According to Morgan, Saber was critical of the Algerian regime that came to power after independence, and the song "El-Khayene" (The Thief), was a critique of official corruption, as was "El Khedma," which goes, “Bouh bouh el khedma welat oujouh” (Oh, oh, you get a job by pulling strings). Saber used to get in trouble with the censors and spent some time in jail, before passing away, after a brief illness, in 1971.

(Ouahrani of course stands as a great genre in its own right, but it is through rai that I got interested in it, and in my research I'm interested in the various strands that go into the making of rai as it emerges in the seventies.)

Robert Crumb plays his North African 78s

The iconic cartoonist R. Crumb is well-known as a collector of 78s, many of which he has picked up during his residence in southern France, where he has lived since 1993. (He owns around 5,000 of them.)

He has appeared a number of times over the last year on John's Old Time Radio Show, most recently to play a number of 78s in his collection recorded by North African musicians.

It's really an amazing show, and the music quite remarkable. I was quite surprised at how good those old 78 rpms sounded. I highly recommend that you download the podcast and listen repeatedly.

Some of the artists on the session are quite well known, such as the Jewish-Arab singer Habiba Msika from Tunisia, about whom I recently posted. (Unfortunately, the track is not identified, presumably because the title is written in Arabic on the album label. I urge you to post a comment, asking that R. Crumb post photos of the labels of the songs in question, so that those of us who read Arabic can identify the songs.)

There is the great Morrocan singer Hocine Slaoui, who recorded the famous song “Dakhlau Al-Merikani” (The Coming of the Americans), a comment on the arrival of Allied Troops in North Africa in 1942. It includes the recurring refrain in English, “All I hear is ‘Ok, Ok. C’mon. Bye-bye.’” (It's also known as "El Marikan Ain Zerka" (The American with the blue eye)). Check it out here.

And there is the celebrated violinist Sami Shawa, who was born in Syria but whose career was in Cairo, who was known both for his solo recordings (here is his "Taqsim Hijaz") and also for his work with great singers like Umm Kalthoum.

And according to JewishMorocco, there are two other Tunisian Jewish singers on the set, besides Habiba Msika: Fritna Darmon (here's another track from her) and Asher Mizrahi.

The rest of the artists, I've been unable to track down any information about.

R. Crumb put out a collection in 2003 called Hot Women: Women Singers from the Torrid Regions of the World, with tracks culled from his 78s collection. (He airs his rather antediluvian geographical theories about what produces "hot" music on the radio show as well.)
It contains three tracks from North Africa: (1) "Guenene Tini" by Cheikha Tetma (1930). Cheikha Tetma was a singer and 'ud player from Tlemcen, Algeria, who performed in the hawzi genre, the brand of Andalusian music specific to Tlemcen. Listen here. (2) "Khraïfi" by Aïcha Relizania (1938): listen here). I know nothing about her, but the name indicates that she was from Rélizane (Arabic, Ghalīzān), a village of European colonizers in the Oran region of Algeria. It's the same town that rai star Cheikha Rimitti (who originally recorded as Cheikha Remitti Relizania) grew up in. (3) "Yama N'Chauf Haja Tegennen" by Julie Marsellaise (1929). Again, I have no information about her, other than that she is from Tunisia, and I've not yet heard the song in question, but here's another recording by her, "Ya Helaouet el-Clap." (The video for that song shows the record in question, and it appears that her full name might be Julie Marsellaise Mahieddine.)

[Correction added December 9, 2013, thanks to Chris Silver (see comments below). Julie Marsellaise should be spelled Marseillaise -- the misspelling is from the Crumb collection, and is no doubt what is written on the record label. She got her name (and is also known as Julie La Marseillaise) from a stint she did at the Alcazar Theater in Marseille. No surprise, there was lots of cultural traffic, then and now, between North Africa and France. Julie's family name was Abitbol, and her daughter Ninette Abitbol was married in 1941 to the great Tunisian singer, oudist, and composer, Hédi Jouini. Ninette was a singer and dancer in her own right, who took the stage name of Widad. (Jouini, born Hédi Belhassine, has been called the "Frank Sinatra" of the Arab World, and his granddaughter Claire Belhassine has recently made a film about him called "Papa Hedi.") 

The "Mahieddine" that I saw on the Julie Marseillaise record label refers to the great Algerian singer and actor Mahieddine Bachetarzi, who also managed many acts.]

Let's pray that another collection, devoted to music of North Africa, is forthcoming. It would be great if an expert on North African music could be hired to work on the notes!

Saturday, December 07, 2013

Tunisian rapper Weld El 15 sentenced to jail for 4 months


The author of the infamous and incendiary song "Boulicia Kleb" (Cops Are Dogs) has turned himself in (December 5) to Tunisian authorities, and will serve a 4 month prison sentence, after his 21 month sentence for "insulting the authorities" was reduced. (As reported by Informed Comment.)

I've posted previously about Tunisian rappers (including Weld El 15) and their struggles with the authorities, post-revolution, here and here.

And, as noted previously, Pussy Riot continue to receive lots of publicity and support in the West. Tunisian rappers: almost none.

Meir Ariel: “At the end of every Hebrew sentence, sits an Arab with a hookah"

Jaffa: Umm Kalthum Hookah/Shisha cafe shop (via Palestine Remembered)

From a very illuminating article on the Israeli (Jewish-only) left, by Susie Linfield, in the Boston Review.

Unfortunately, Linfield misses the potential implications of this quote from singer-songwriter Meir Ariel. (Unfortunately, I don't know what song of his is referred to.) No Palestinians are interviewed for the article, and so the Palestinian-Israelis who are about 20% of the Israeli population, are not presented as part of the Israeli left. Nor is there any Mizrahi presence here, as far as I can tell. So the tale is one of Ashkenazi progressives and Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza, and Mizrahis and Palestinian-Israelis (who combined make up much more than 50% of the population of Israel) are excluded.

That said, the article is nonetheless very interesting, and I'm very glad it gave me this quote!

Update (a couple hours later):

I've been informed that the song in question is "Shir Keev" שיר כאב ("A Song of Pain"). Here it is, with translated lyrics.

It's a pretty interesting lyric. The singer complains that his girlfriend seems to be falling for an Arab (Palestinian citizen of Israel) who participates with them in a "mixed" theater group and is from the Triangle (an area adjacent to the West Bank with a high concentration of Palestinians, including the towns of Tayibeh and Umm al-Fahm). It's the fact that the girl is attracted to the Arab that makes it a song of pain.

The Arab invites them to visit him in his village. He serves them alcohol. It gets late, he invites them to stay over because of all that they've had to drink. The singer says no, we're gonna go. Where? the Arab asks. To Jerusalem.

The Arab responds, "At the end of every sentence you say in Hebrew sits an Arab with a hookah/nargileh. Even if it begins in Siberia or in Hollywood with Hava Nagila."

The man responds in Yiddish "She judges between us." (It's not clear whether the Arab understands the Yiddish. But I think not.)

Comments on the youtube vid suggest that the song is "really" about the land of Israel, represented by the girlfriend.

Sooooo, it turns out that Linfield does not get the quote quite right, that the lyric in the song is uttered by a Palestinian-Israeli. And that the song, unlike Linfield's discussion of the Israeli left, includes rather than excludes the point of view of the Palestinian citizens of Israel.

Friday, December 06, 2013

Kufiyaspotting: Psychosis 2010

Psychosis 2010 by tsweden
Psychosis 2010, a photo by tsweden on Flickr.
This lame British horror film opens with a group of anarchist squatters who, in 1992, are attempting to preserve the local wildlife in the vicinity of a village. All except for one are slaughtered by a serial killer. This is one of the victims. The kufiya signals her politics.

20 years of talks keep Palestinians occupied

Great, invaluable visualization of the results of the "peace process," from Visualizing Palestine. Please see the original here, it's way bigger and easier to visualize.

Settler population doubled (to over half million), 11,000 Palestinians forced out of Jerusalem, 53,000 settler homes built. Lots of accomplishments!


Saturday, November 30, 2013

drone life Gaza: zenana

By Jonathan Cook, via Richard Falk, on the "unfolding tragedy of Gaza."

Drones are increasingly being used for surveillance and extra-judicial execution in parts of the Middle East, especially by the US, but in nowhere more than Gaza has the drone become a permanent fixture of life. More than 1.7 million Palestinians, confined by Israel to a small territory in one of the most densely populated areas in the world, are subject to near continual surveillance and intermittent death raining down from the sky.

There is little hope of escaping the zenana – an Arabic word referring to a wife’s relentless nagging that Gazans have adopted to describe the drone’s oppressive noise and their feelings about it. According to statistics compiled by human rights groups in Gaza, civilians are the chief casualties of what Israel refers to as “surgical” strikes from drones.

 An unmanned aerial vehicle (Photo: Israel Aerospace Industries)

An earlier post on Israeli drones over Gaza and surfing as a way to avoid them stated that "zanana" translated as mosquito.

Ha'aretz wrote in 2010 that Gazans "have begun using the slang word zanana to also refer to those Gazans who report to the Hamas authorities what people say and do, with whom they meet, who visits them, and whose brother has gone to Ramallah."

The Washington Post in 2011 wrote this: "Roughly translated, zenana means buzz. But in neighboring Egypt, a source of Gaza custom and culture, the term is slang used to describe a relentlessly nagging wife."

I guess it could be all those things. And deadly. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

What I'm Doing This Saturday

I'll be at the American Anthropological Association annual meetings in Chicago, and participating in this:

Amahl Bishara is the author of Back Stories: U.S. News Production and Palestinian Politics. Rochelle Davis, the author of Palestinian Village Histories: Geographies of the Displaced. Samuli Schielke wrote The Perils of Joy: Contesting Mulid Festivals in Contemporary Egypt. They are all terribly clever. 

I don't know Joanne Nucho, who is a grad student at UC Irvine and "studies the notion of sectarianism in Lebanon and the way in which infrastructures, services and municipal planning create a sense of community as well as the conditions of possibility for various forms of conflict along sectarian lines." Nor do I know Elif Babul, who teaches at Mt. Holyoke and who wrote in a note to Rochelle Davis, that in her dissertation she "worked on the human rights training programs for state officials in Turkey, organized as part of Turkey's campaign for accession to the European Union." You can check out her pubs here. I'm sure that Joanne and Elif are terribly clever too. It should be fun.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

More on Saâda Bonaire's "Bedouin funk archive" & their "oriental disco-funk tunes"


"Bedouin funk archive" and "Oriental disco-funk tunes" -- this is how Dazed Digital describes the recent eponymous release of this '80s project's canned recordings. They also describe it thus: "Combining the occasionally stony, stark minimalism of European electronics with the groove-laden funk of Turkish and Kurdish folk."

Dazed Digital has interviewed DJ Ralph “von” Richtoven and singers Stephanie Lange (but not singer Claudia Hossfeld) on the occasion of the release. What I found of interest was how they describe the recordings "Eastern" feel. Excerpts follow:

von Richtoven: The band? Well there was no real band. It was a lot of friends from the music scene. I also gathered some traditional Kurdish folk musicians from the local Turkish communist party to play some more Eastern instruments on the tracks. I didn't really want a band – Saâda Bonaire was a pop-art project...

We saw the strong influence that Afro-Cuban sounds had on American music. We could hear the influence that Caribbean and Indian immigrants had on British music in the 80s. In France, they had the Rai music from the Maghreb and a lot of musicians from West Africa. In Germany, we only had Turkish immigrants... millions of them. In the 1970s I studied social work. By the 1980s, I was working for the German government's immigration department. I was responsible for many immigrant social clubs in Bremen. I was also collecting music tapes from Turkey and Egypt since 1975. In theory it was obvious what we had to do: fusion. In reality it was very difficult and almost impossible.

So there you have it: Cool German artists want to emulate the hip reggae and bhangra sounds coming out of England and the "rai" and West African influence on French music. [As an aside, I'm sure this an anachronism, as I seriously doubt that pop rai was much evidence in Germany as early as 1982.] But they "only" had Turks around...who happened to be Kurds who belonged to the Turkish Communist Party?

Don't you wish music journalists asked more questions?

But maybe not, if they don't know the difference between Bedouin and Turks...

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Muhammad Assaf, Raise The Kufiya


 Clearly I'm behind on my kufiyaspotting blogs. Just so no one who reads this and is trying to keep track thinks I've missed anything, it's important to note that Muhammad Assaf, the Arab Idol winner, performed the song "Raise The Kufiya" (‘Alay al-kufiya) as his final song.



It starts with a mawwal, for which Australians for Palestine has provided this translation.

And here's the Arabic for the song, plus translation (which I've adapted from a couple sources, here and here).

raise the kufiya raise it high, wave it in the air.
 علّي الكوفيّه علّي، ولولح فيها

sing the Ataba and Mijana enjoy it
وغنّي عتابا وميجانا، وسامر فيها

Shake your shoulder gently, Jafra, Ataba and Dahiyya [traditional dances]
هز الكتف بحنيّة، جفرا، عتابا، ودحيّة.

let the gun contribute and make it more fun
 خلّي البارود يهلل ويحلّيها

raise the flag in Ram-Allah and in the mountain of fire [Nablus, a nickname dating from the 1936-39 revolt]]
علّي الراية بِـ رام الله وبِـ جبال النار

your proud aqal [head band for the kufiya] is a symbol of determination and persistence
وعقال العزة عقالك، عزم وإصرار

the first shot is a tale of a journey
والطلقة الأولى فيها حكاية مشوار

when the time comes, we'll turn things upside down
وعند الحق نخلّي العالي واطيها

we planted orchards of figs and olives, we brought wheat seeds and lemons
احنا زرعنا البيارة تين وزيتون، وبذار القمح علينا وبيدر ليمون

When you call my country we'll be ready
رهن الإشارة يا وطن إحنا حنكون

Lighting the path of victory on the day of battle  
يوم العرك دروب النصر نضويها

The esteemed Palestinian singer Reem Kilani has penned a very interesting piece on Assaf (whose talent she greatly admires), in which she worries about how he might be put to use by the Palestinian Authority.

Assaf’s repertoire may be very versatile in terms of Arabic music, but he must ensure that his repertoire on stage encompasses all Palestinians, and that off-stage, he doesn’t allow himself to become the musical mouthpiece of the PA. Mohammed Assaf might have won the tarab of the Arabs, but he must keep the spirit of duende. For himself and for Palestine.

10 taboo Arabic songs: Habiba Msika

The very fine on-line publication Ma'azef (in Arabic, and because I read Arabic very very slowly I haven't explored nearly enough) recently published a piece called 10 taboo songs: ١٠ أغاني محرّمة.


I was most interested in item 4, a song by the Tunisian Jewish singer Habiba Msika called "'Ala Sarir al-nawm dala'ni."



Habiba Msika (1903-1930) was quite the sensation in Tunis in the twenties, wearing Paris fashion when the norm was for respectable women to be covered up, taking up with lovers in a fairly public fashion. In 1925 she appeared onstage in a production of Romeo and Juliet, playing Romeo opposite the Libyan Jewish actress Rachida Lotfi's Juliet. Their onstage kiss caused an uproar, and her côterie of fans, known as the "soldats de la nuit," who included many young Tunisian dandies, had to rescue her from outraged members of the audience.

In 1930 a jealous ex-lover entered her flat, poured gasoline on her, and set her on fire. She died the next day. (And you can read more about her fascinating career here.) Tunisian director Salma Baccar made a film about her, La Danse du feu (1995), which I would love to see. (This might be a clip from the film.) And the blog Jewish Morocco reflects on how Habiba Msika is "remembered" in Tunisia today, here.

(And someone please help me with a vernacular translation of that song!)

Added, a few hours later. See the comments from Hammer. The song could be translated as "On My Bed He Spoiled Me." I.e., he shtupped me. Hence the "taboo" nature of the song.