New Music & The Return of Xeroxing

The cycles are confounding. I remember in college printing up homemade zines of poetry for myself and friends, cutting and pasting photos, poems and stories onto 8.5 x 11 paper and xeroxing them, either at the student center at Rutgers or, more beneficial to the college budget, a copy machine I could get a hold of free. This began at the age of 18, and 12 years later I'm essentially doing the same thing, only with a cable connection and virtual warehouse of my books which only become printed when the demand hits. And this demand is what I spend much of my day trying to create.

With the movie about to begin shooting, I realize that visual representation is the key to selling books - an irony, for sure, but nevertheless the rules of the day. Not that rules are steadfast; surely there are other doors to this labyrinth. Yet I remember telling Dax before Global Beat Fusion was even close to reality that I'd be selling more copies in five years than the first year of publication, and this is something I hold true in my heart. This scene is too important and too groundbreaking to remain in the shadows. Musically, it's where cultures are heading, and to many of us, already is.

So enough about the makeshift techniques of publishing; I'll save those rants for another day. If we think the music industry is dated, and that these shifts occuring in downloading, new ways of presenting and experiencing music, and all the chaos of a dying few companies trying to maintain a control that was never their own, take a gander into the world of book selling, where the scene is still surveyed by 19th century technology. Blogs are an obvious revolution, and are POD books; yet the traditional arena remains exactly that. And given the tactile nature of books (against mp3 conversion of music - I really don't believe eBooks are the answer here), this is an empire that could continue to reign for some time.

On to the music. A friend sent me an email the other day talking about an article she read on Outkast, and how Dre said something to the effect that he listens to silence because there's no good music being made (this is second hand knowledge; I will seek out this exact quote and return when I can). I've heard this argument before from others, however, and am struck by what a close-minded, near idiotic statement this is. Wait - forget the "near," we are in true idiocy. The problem isn't no good music, it's too much. I can barely keep up and am overwhelmed constantly by all the goodness I receive in the mail. That complaint is an apathetic, self-serving comment that really means "no one is making music like me, so nothing is good," and to such a nonsensical statement, I rebut with a few damn good examples of why that argument is moot.

Zanzibara 1 & 2 on Buda Musique picks up where the Ethiopiques series continues, surveying the Arabic/Africa sounds of this small island off the coast of Tanzania. The first edition covers the legendary Ikhwani Safaa Musical Club, which has been informing the region of important taraab sounds for some time. It's a stellar disc, but the second volume is where it's at: vintage, crackling sounds of gorgeous folk rhythms from '65-'75 by, subtitled Golden Years of Mombasa taraab. Ethiopiques returns with edition number 21, the most quiet to date - a gorgeous solo piano outing by Emahoy Tseque-Maryam Guebrou.

Tibetan artist Yungchen Lhamo returns with Ama, 10 beautifully crafted songs exploring her native Buddhism's spiritual aspects. Leaving Tibet in '89 to find a less oppressive government in Australia, and now living in New York City, she continues touring the globe spreading the minimal strains of her cherubic voice. The songs "9/11," an obvious tribute, is one of the most haunting, heartbreaking tracks recorded in some time. Featuring Annie Lennox and Joy Askew, as well as instruments like the African kora, floating string sections and Arabic percussion, Ama is certain to call for multiple plays in your stereo and heart.

The "Golden Voice of Mali" returns with M'Bemba, a more electric response to his last quiet Moffou. However, Salif Keita doesn't lose any of that memorable luster in his throat. Scorn since childhood begin an albino in the arid land of Mali, Keita has become one of the land's most important musical figures. Keita stretches out with the addition of Afro-Cuban rhythms and French chansons informing his soul-filled, bluesy blend of acoustic and rock tempered homeland tunes. A huge success on the international touring circuit, this former member of the infamous Rail Band has time and again proven strength through adversity, and this latest outing only solidifies any former objection.

Lastly, I'll leave this review of I penned of the incredible Nuru Kane record to speak for itself...

NURU KANE
Sigil (Riverboat Records/World Music Network)

“I want to forget all my past music,” Nuru Kane tells me from his studio just outside of Paris. “With Bayefall Gnawa, we have just built the first floor of a house. I hope to build 7 floors, 10 floors. But to build 10 floors will take a lot of work.” Bayefall is the name of his Sufi faith, indicating his Senegalese homeland; gnawa, of the Moroccan musical style he fell in love with years ago. Upon discovering North African trance music, he picked up the bass lute guimbri and never turned back. Sigil, recorded with his band (Bayefall Gnawa), amazingly ties together his deep loves for gnawa ceremonial music with Malian blues; hence, influences of Ali Farka Toure and Hassan Hakmoun abound. Most impressive is not Kane’s ability to record these two styles on one record, but in one song. Hearing the ripping pentatonic scales of Mississippi madness above the krakeb (metal castanets) claps on “Cigil,” complete with a ripping, grainy electric solo, and the guimbri-driven “Colère” ensure Kane’s place as a true innovator of African folk styles. His inclusion of other instruments – oud, handclaps, violin, Welsh flute, djembe and, most interestingly, a beautiful accordion section on “Diarama” – shows his willingness to experiment in a variety of modes. And for all the skilled musicianship occurring throughout Sigil’s 13 tracks, it is the most quiet that are most impressive: “Goree,” an ultra-bluesy acoustic number sounding like an outtake from the Toure/Cooder sessions, and the opening “Toub.” There’s such an element of soul searching in that first song you just know the rest of the record will follow suit. And that it does.