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Album review
Souad Massi
The Algerian Passionaria
Paris
04/05/2001 -
Born in Algiers to Kabylian parents, 28-year-old Souad preferred to leave her homeland and go into exile rather than have her voice of protest silenced. Working and recording in France, she has developed a unique Oriental folk fusion sound and continues to write hard-hitting lyrics denouncing the spiral of violence and corruption in Algeria.
"There's a deliberate policy (in Algeria) of starving the poorer neighbourhoods,", says Souad. "The local population are deprived of water and medicine. That way they're too preoccupied with day-to-day problems of survival to worry about anything else! That's the way the country's being governed right now." . When you look at the headline from the February 1st edition of Algeria's daily newspaper El Watan - "Shortage of raw materials: MILK UNDER PRESSURE!" - you have to concede Souad has a point! But whereas in the early days of her career, the singer was able to express this point of view on public radio and television, these days any talk of protest ends up on the cutting-room floor.
Souad chose to go into exile, spreading her message of protest abroad. But there was little in her family background that appeared to predestine her to take on her current role as the 'Algerian Passionaria'. She grew up in a working-class family of six children, her father struggling to support the family on his modest salary from the local water board. Souad followed in her father's footsteps, working for the water board as well, but at night she worked towards her music career, taking evening classes to learn acoustic guitar.
"I had an uncle who played guitar," explains Souad, "He was into jazz and I remember being really impressed by the way he played. That got me interested in music at a very early age. The problem is there's never any big concerts in Algeria. No foreign groups or artists ever go over there to play. We only ever got to see things on TV when I was growing up." Thanks to television Souad was able to educate herself about the music scene in the West, watching old films about Woodstock, the Beatles and James Brown. And while her brothers took an active interest in funk and hip-hop, she discovered the power of folk and country sounds.
T here was this friend of mine who had this huge collection of old country records from the 40s," explains Souad. Locking herself away to listen to Emmylou Harris, Souad felt a deep affinity with the Alabama cow-girl's plaintive ballads. Inspired to start making her own music, Souad joined a local flamenco group, then went on to form her own rock outfit, Atakor. Meanwhile, the young musician was busy penning poetry and strumming away on her guitar, experimenting with everything from jazz and blues to soul music. Souad also worked on her singing, developing a light airy style a million miles from Algeria's traditional Raï sound. Breaking with other forms of tradition, she also began voicing dissident opinions that her fellow countrymen may have thought, but generally kept to a whisper. Walking around in jeans with her guitar slung over her shoulder, it wasn't long before Souad inflamed local fundamentalists and began receiving death threats. Souad sought refuge in her parents' native Kabylia, but in January 1999 she was invited over to Paris to perform at a "Festival of Algerian Women". Souad's emotion-charged performance at the Cabaret Sauvage brought the house down and she was encouraged to extend her week's stay in the French capital. Her new-found French friends also encouraged her to start sending demo tapes to local record labels. Impressed by her vibrant fusion sound and her powerful folk-style vocals à la Joan Baez, Tracy Chapman and Camilia (lead singer of the Palestinian group Sabreen), a French indie label signed her on the spot.
Things moved quickly after that and within the next fortnight Souad had been whisked into two tiny Parisian studios and started working with Bob Coke (a Paris-based producer famous for his collaboration with Ben Harper). Working with an extensive backing band, Souad began weaving her vibrant fusion of East and West, mixing the sound of electric rock guitars with infectious percussion and haunting melodies played on the oud (the traditional Arab lute).
Recorded under 'live' studio conditions, Souad's debut album Raoui (The Storyteller ) was an accomplished and highly unusual mix of multi-cultural rhythms and protest ballads. Performing her lyrics in a mix of Arabic, French and English, Souad denounced the violence and corruption in her homeland and sang of brighter tomorrows, urging her listeners to work towards peace, justice and utopia.
There's no secret to Souad's rich fusion sound. "I'm a mixture of a whole lot of different things," the singer explains, "I belong to Arab culture, to the culture of the Maghreb and the Middle East. I love the sound of the lute and Arab vocals, but at the same time I've been very influenced by folk music from the West. What I'm trying to do in my work is create a perfect fusion of the two."
A nd it sounds as if Souad Massi has achieved just that objective on her debut album. The listener is hooked from the very first flight of acoustic guitars on the title track Raoui , caught up in Souad's 'disorienting Orientalism' (to borrow a phrase from that other famous Arabic diva, Amina). On Bladi Souad's crystalline vocals weave a Sheherazade tale over a bed of haunting melodies played on the oud, forcing listeners into the harshness of everyday Algerian reality where even innocent children are not spared. Hard-hitting protest lyrics aside, Bladi is also a perfect gem of folk/pop, worthy of the same recognition as the Cat Stevens' classic Morning Has Broken .
The next track, Amessa , speeds the tempo up a bit, whipping up an infectious rhythm which falls partway between Fela Kuti's Afro-beat and the wild percussion-playing favoured by Nubian star Ali Hassan Kuban. Tant pis pour moi is a plaintive ballad, recorded in French, on which Souad's magical vocals soar like a flying carpet as she recounts the daily lot of the exile. The soft reggae beat which undercuts Tant pis pour moi recalls Bob Marley's Stir It Up or Redemption Song and Jimmy Cliff's influence (i.e. The Harder They Come ) is also in evidence on Donya (The Earth).
In short, Souad Massi's debut album features a wonderfully eclectic mix of styles, the singer going freely with her own personal tastes. The rich melting-pot of sounds on Raoui includes everything from the Arabic/Andalusian charm of Hayati and the sensual Cape Verdean rhythms of the coladera on Nekreh el keld to blues rock à la Notting Hilbillies ( Awham ) and country/pop à la Stevie Nicks & Fleetwood Mac (on Elta Dari ). Meanwhile, Souad's Bob Dylan influences come to the fore on Lamen , a track that fuses Oriental melodies and militant folk lyrics.
But one of the outstanding tracks on the excellent Raoui has to be the moving country ballad J'ai pas le temps. Written and recorded in French, the song finds Souad lamenting: " J'ai plus de rêve/ j'ai plus de maison" ("I've got no dream left / No home!"). Singing with all the fervour and conviction of Dylan, Woodie Guthrie or Joan Baez, Souad Massi - Algerian Passionaria and protest singer-guitarist - is the living incarnation of Lennon's 'working-class hero(ine)'.
Homepage photo courtesy of Pascal Sacleux / Island-Universal Music
Album : Raouï Island-Universal Music ref 548550
Gérard Bar-David
25/11/2005 -
28/03/2003 -
