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A year in music, Ray Lema
Stories Without Words
Paris
29/12/2004 -
RFI Musique: Where does the title of your new album come from?
Ray Lema: Mizila was my mother's name. She's passed away now. But she was a totally extraordinary woman in her lifetime. My mother suffered a lot on my account, too. She stubbornly insisted on supporting me when I announced I wanted to pursue a musical career. My entire family were against the idea. They wanted me to become a doctor like everyone else in town. But my Mum was great; she really stuck up for me. It was the same when I turned round at the age of ten and told her I wanted to be a Catholic priest when I grew up. Even though she was a Protestant herself, she never even tried to talk me out of it! My new album’s got a great deal of sentimental value for me. It’s like a sort of posthumous gift to my mother. It’s an album that’s simple enough for someone like her – someone who didn’t have any musical references – to enjoy.
I’ve heard your mother gave birth to you on a train. Do you think the circumstances of your birth have had any effect on your lifestyle since?
Well, I wasn’t actually born on a train, you know. I was born in the station waiting room where the people helping my mother just had time to set her up comfortably before she gave birth. As to whether these rather peculiar circumstances surrounding my birth had any influence on my later life, I don’t really know. Because of my religious faith, I do have a tendency to believe that everything in life’s linked, that there’s no such thing as an isolated incidence. And when I look back on my life so far, it’s true that stations and airports have played a major role. In fact, since I left my homeland (the former Zaire), I feel like I’ve experienced nothing but stations and airports! So yes, in a way, sometimes I do think to myself that being born in a station was a sort of sign of what was to follow!
Your life also seems to have had more than its fair share of changes of direction. I know you gave up your studies at the seminary and abandoned your religious calling to devote yourself to music. What prompted this sudden turnabout?
I grew really disillusioned with the Church. I just had all these questions that there was no clear answer to. When I’d bring up certain questions I was told "that’s simply a matter of faith!" The problem is, I just don’t have the sort of mind that’s satisfied with that as an explanation. I never got any clear answer from the friars at the seminary to so many of the questions that kept running through my head, so I gradually got bogged down in doubt.
Do you feel like you’re on any particular kind of quest as a musician and composer?
When I started studying music from my homeland, I realized that we’ve got a highly elaborate rhythm system – and one that’s extremely rigid! You’ve only got to shift the beat a quarter of a millimeter and everything grinds to a halt. Everyone stops playing and starts complaining. It’s interesting, when I came to the West I was completely blown away when I learnt something that no-one had ever taught me in Africa. I attended a harmony workshop one day where the teacher was talking about scales and he explained that a scale is a melody that’s developed after observing all the different harmonics that coexist within one sound. Thanks to that workshop I learnt that you can perceive at least 32 harmonics above the initial sound, that’s to say 32 notes layered one on top of another above that.
Back in Africa we take a completely different approach to music. We move in more of a horizontal direction, whereas in the West you work from a vertical analysis. Anyway, once I’d realized this basic difference I began dreaming of new possibilities. I thought to myself, "This is extraordinary. You’ve got these two cultures which, somewhere down the line, totally complement one another." So I guess you could say my quest as a composer is to tap into this complementarity between the vertical and the horizontal. For me, creating a modern sound means that both systems are present, that you’ve successfully mixed groove with the science of harmony.
Do you see yourself as an African musician or just a musician?
I see myself as a musician, but one with African origins. You know, very few white musicians have ever really understood what Africans are getting at when they start moving off in a horizontal direction. And I think it’s the same the other way round, too. Very few Africans have come up with harmonic compositions which are as elaborate as those created by certain classical composers in the West. From both points of view, I still have a strong sense of being an African musician - and my new album obviously bears the mark of where I come from. It’s funny but friends who’ve listened to me playing the piano have remarked that I’ve got a pretty "vicious" way of throwing my hands around as I beat out the rhythm. And that’s something I know I got from Africa!
Patrick Labesse
Translation : Julie Street
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