Karim Ziad

A Non-Moroccan Musician Plays Gnawa

Essaouira 

19/06/2001 - 

Essaouira's Gnawa/World Music Festival provides an ideal meeting-place for artists from a broad variety of nationalities and musical backgrounds. As Karim Ziad, an Algerian percussionist, drummer and singer-songwriter found out for himself when he got involved with the festival as an artistic director this year.

Early risers have no place in Essaouira once festival-time kicks in. Concerts last well into the early hours of the morning and revellers are loathe to go to bed straight afterwards. Fortunately, we'd arranged to meet Karim Ziad at the civilised hour of 12 a.m., but when we caught up with the Algerian music star we found him tired-eyed, half-awake – but already tucking into a copious Moroccan breakfast!

Karim, in one of your songs you write: "Whether you come from Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria or Mauritania/ Remember that our mother, the mother of us all, is "Ifrikya"/ She's the mother of all peoples whether they be Indian or Arab … "
The thing is, people in France tend to think that Moroccans, Algerians and other peoples from the Maghreb are all one big happy family, that we treat each other like brothers. But that's just not the case. There are a lot of problems caused by basic intolerance between us. I wanted to set the record straight because it's always been a bit of a taboo subject in our culture. I wanted to sit down and write a song about this particular kind of "racism" – and I use the word carefully, between quotation marks – to get things out in the open.

What are you doing out here in Essaouira?
I'm involved with this year's festival as the artistic director of the second stage, the one where all the young musicians play. I'll also be playing drums with Cheb Mami who'll be in concert on the main stage on Sunday night. I've performed with the Tyour Gnawa too – it was their maâlem, Abdeslam Alikane, the artistic director of the Gnawas in Essaouira, who invited me to go along and play with them.

I imagine working with Raï star Cheb Mami and working with a group of Gnawa musicians is not quite the same thing!
No, that's for sure! Mami takes a much more modern approach, which is obvious when you consider that the music (on his new album) was arranged by an American. But the Gnawas don't have any such thing as arrangements. They just take things as they come. There's a lot of improvisation going on there.

Europeans automatically associate the Maghreb with Raï, as if no other music had ever come out of the region. Would you say the album (*) you recorded at the beginning of this year and your involvement with the Essaouira Festival is aimed at proving that there's a whole lot of other stuff going on in the Maghreb?
Yes, exactly. People always tend to associate the Maghreb with Raï but they couldn't be more wrong. You have to remember that Raï only emerged in Algiers a few years ago. No-one in Algiers listened to Raï before that – in fact, Raï had a bad reputation because of some of the content of the lyrics. Raï came from one specific town, Oran. It wasn't widespread at all at the start!

What's your take on Morocco's Gnawa culture as an Algerian musician?
Gnawa culture was banned at a certain moment in history, but it's coming back with a real force right now. The sacred, mystic aspect of Gnawa culture is well-known, but what's interesting is that these days it's moving beyond that realm and increasingly being played as secular entertainment.

Which means audiences are able to see the Gnawas live on stage at festivals like this one. But what we see on stage is not actually a ritual, is it?
Let me tell you, you certainly don't get to see this kind of thing in Algeria. The Algerian Gnawas are much more closed to the outside world. They're also a lot blacker too, because traditionally there hasn't been any intermarriage between blacks and whites, so there hasn't been any kind of cultural exchange or musical fusion. The Moroccan Gnawas on the other hand have really evolved. They've found ways of sharing their art and been open to the idea of working with other musicians. It's extremely difficult for me as a white musician in Algeria. But it's thanks to my being Algerian that I've been able to work with the Gnawas. And I'm impressed - the Moroccan Gnawas are light years ahead of us!

You've been working with maâlem (master) Abdeslam Alikane at this year's festival. How do the Gnawas go about working with non-Moroccan musicians?
Abdeslam Alikane has played with various people here in Essaouira – and he hasn't always enjoyed it! There are some musicians who just can't get into the Gnawa groove and that messes the whole thing up. Gnawa music has its own specific beat. It's not double time or triple time, but falls somewhere between the two instead. If musicians don't concentrate on the rhythm and don't actually understand it, the spell is completely broken. I've seen all kinds of different musicians over the world try and play with the Gnawas – it can sound amazing or, frankly, absolutely awful!

Doesn't the fact of performing sacred ritual music on stage impoverish it in some way?
Well, it would be completely out of place to show a real lila (a nocturnal possession ritual) live on stage. The lila is a sacred ritual which belongs to the Gnawas and no-one else. What audiences get to see at the festival is the musical side of things. The festival's not about showing rituals on stage – and the Gnawas certainly wouldn't like the idea of that either! There's a clear dividing line for them. Singing and dancing on stage at the festival is show-bizz, but they would never want to be seen during a lila. That's a strictly private affair.

Have you ever witnessed a Gnawa possession ritual in person?
Yes, and I have to say, it's a very long process. You have to really love Gnawa music! But the problem, is if you're watching the ritual from the outside rather than being involved in it in some way, you feel like a bit of a voyeur. I enjoy the lila best when I'm with the maâlem, playing the rattles for example. But even then watching people go into a trance can still be a bit awkward. It's a very intimate, private thing.

Have you ever gone into a trance yourself during one of the ceremonies?
No, but all the other members of my family have. Basically, I think musicians have a bit of a problem with letting themselves go. They prefer to be in control of things, dominating the rhythms that put other people into a trance.

Is it possible to teach someone the rudiments of Gnawa music as a sort of step-by-step guide?
There's a lengthy period of initiation involved before you can be accepted as a singer. It's no easy matter! I really adore Gnawa music – as all other Maghrebin musicians of my generation do – but there's no way we could ever be up to the same standard as a maâlem.

Are women involved in ritual Gnawa music in any way?
Yes, women are involved. They play drums or rattles, but they're not allowed to take part in the singing or play the guenbri (the three-stringed lute/drum played by the maâlem).

Karim Ziad Ifrikya (Act/Night and day) 2001

Laurence  Aloir

Translation : Julie  Street