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

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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 coveredquite decentlyon 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.

Lili Boniche disco

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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.

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

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 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.

Maya Casabianca

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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.

drone life: new year's wish

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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 Vicearticle (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.

Slim Gaillard, Arabian Boogie and Yabra Harisseh

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I just went to see American Hustle, which I truly enjoyed, and of course before I went I had been forewarned that I was going to hear a version of "White Rabbit" in Arabic, by Lebanese singer Mayssa Karaa and that Robert DeNiro, playing the mobster Victor Tellegio, would speak Arabic. (The backstory of how that song came to be recorded is here. Dawn Elder, who used to work with Miles Copeland III on the label Mondo Melodia, that did so much to bring Arab popular music to the US in the early aughts, played a key role. I discuss this in my article "The 'Arab Wave' in World Music after 9/11.")


For some reason this reminded me of a 2010 post on Qifa Nabki about jazz singer and guitarist/pianist Slim Gaillard's 1945 song “Yep-Roc Heresay.” The post informs us that the song, mostly in Arabic, is mostly a recitation of items from an Arab (or maybe Armenian?) restaurant: "yabra (i.e. stuffed graped leaves), harisseh (a semolina dessert), kibbeh bi-siniyyeh (a dish of meat and bulgur), lahm mishweh (grilled meat)" and also burghul (bulgur) and mahsheh (stuffed vegetable) and banadura (tomato) and so on. The title stands for Yabra Harisseh of course.

According to wikipedia, this is the back story: "the actual origin of these phrases comes from his time living in Detroit. He was out of money by the time he made it to Detroit and was turned down a job at Ford. An Armenian woman named Rose Malhalab took Slim in, where he lived in the basement of her and her husband's beauty shop on Woodward Avenue. She cooked much Arabic food for him, explaining Slim's entire song."



I had not heard "Yep-Roc Heresay" until recently but I have been intrigued for several years now by another Gaillard tune, "Arabian Boogie," whose lyrics go, "Sayidi, kifa kifa saha?...shu baddak? inta majnoun" (Mr., how are you? What do you want? You're crazy.)

It is claimed that he spoke 8 languages, but...really?? Where did he learn them? And where did he learn Arabic in particular -- not that these two songs show any sort of fluency but they do indicate at least some knowledge. He served in the army from 1941-45 -- was he in North Africa? Or maybe it's from Rose Malhalab? It's well known of course that Gaillard liked to fool with language and that he invented a language he called Vout and used its hip, bebop style language in a lot of his songs. (From "Flat Foot Floogie:""Flaginzy at flagat, flaginzy ooh flagoo-jigee.")

Lots more info about Slim Gaillard here.

I'll never forget Gaillard's wonderful performance of "Selling Out"in Julien Temple's interesting but flawed 1986 film, Absolute Beginners.

Did Lili Boniche play Judéo-Arabe music?

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No, he said.

«Est-ce qu'on dit d'un musulman qu'il joue de la musique islamo-arabe? Je joue de la musique arabe, un point c'est tout»

(I would like to get my hands on the original source for this quote...)

Dolly Dots and Muhammad Abdo

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I had never heard of Dolly Dots til a couple days ago, when my friend Gamal posted this video on Facebook. It's Dolly Dots' 1981 hit, called "Leila Queen of Sheba."



What I noticed right away -- besides the fact that the song is very Euro early 80s Abba-esque -- is the fact that the chorus, where they sing "Leila Leila Leila" seems drawn from a hit by Saudi singer Mohammad Abdo's famous song "Aba'ad."

I got to know this song when I was doing fieldwork in the West Bank in 1984-85, it was much beloved by my friends, and I came to love it too. I thought the title was in fact "Leila," as that word is sung over and over in the song. And in fact many in the Arab world know the song by that name as well. If you're interested, here is a translation and transliteration of the lyrics.

In any case, check out Abdo doing a live version of the song. (And isn't it lovely? One of my favorite Arabic songs ever.)



The "leila" section of the song comes in at about 8:40. Yes, it's late in a very long song, but rest assured, this is a very well-known segment of the song.

Listen, then go back and listen to the Dolly Dots "Leila." Don't you think their chorus is taken from the Abdo original?

Now, the I didn't know this song while my friend Gamal did is that Dolly Dots are one of those European groups (Dutch in fact) who never had any hits in the US but were big throughout Europe and the Middle East. (A much more famous case is Boney M.) Dolly Dots were so popular in Egypt (where Gamal is from) that they even toured the country.

I posted my conjecture about the origin of the Dolly Dots'"Leila" chorus on Facebook, and my friend Robin shot back with this video. It's a re-formed Dolly Dots performing their '81 hit in 2007.



What is notable about this live version is that Dolly Dots are backed by a small Arab music ensemble (a takht), which serves to bring out more fully the Arab elements (and the Abdo influence) than did the original.

Neil contributed the fact that the ensemble is composed of Jamil Al Assadi, on qanun and Latif Al-Obaidi on oud, who belong to the Iraqi Maqam Ensemble, which regularly backs Iraqi singer Farida Mohammed Ali (based in The Netherlands), and the late Behsat Üvez from Turkey on derbuka. That is, it's a first-class ensemble.

(Shukran, Gamal, Robin and Neil!) 

Added January 20, 2014: I meant to say last night that I think one reason that the Dolly Dots were never a hit in the US is: the name sounds ridiculous!

Stern Gang "Misirlou"

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Over the past few years, and especially since Dick Dale's version of "Misirlou" appeared so memorably in Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction, a number of accounts have pointed out the "Eastern" origins of this great tune. I've posted on the song previously, noting the fact that (a) it emerged originally out of the rebetika tradition, which originated in the great cosmopolitan city of Smyrna, and (b) that Dick Dale's version is inspired by the rhythms of Arabic music, which he learned chiefly from his uncle, a darbukkah player. You can find more on Dick Dale (born Richard Mansour) and the Arabic origins of surf music here, more on the Eastern origins of "Misirlou"here and here.

There are lots and lots of cool versions of "Misirlou" besides Dale's version. Here's one that is not so cool (Hebrew title: "Lil Razim," and I'm not sure how to translate.)


It was released in 1953 and recorded by Shulamit Livnat, an Israeli singer who was known as "the singer of the Etzel and the Lehi." That is, the singer of Lohamei Herut Israel (Israel Freedom Fighters) or Lehi, the paramilitary Zionist group founded by Avraham (Yair) Stern in 1940, a radical splinter from the Irgun (full title, Ha-Irgun Ha-Tzvai Ha-Leumi be-Eretz Yisrael or The National Military Organization in the Land of Israel), the Revisionist paramilitary group which was led by Menahem Begin from 1943. The Irgun was also known as Etzel, the acronym for the Hebrew initials.

Although the Stern Gang split from the Irgun, during 1948 the two groups collaborated in all kinds of mayhem and terror operations, including most notoriously the 1948 massacre at Deir Yassin, which resulted in the killing of 107 Palestinian Arab villagers, 11 of them armed. It's been awhile since I have spent much time reading about Lehi and Etzel, but a classic account is J. Bowyer Bell's Terror Out of Zion: Irgun Zvai Leumi, Lehi, and the Palestine Underground, 1929–1949, 1977.

One of the songs that Shulamit Livnat was known for singing is the Lehi anthem, "Unknown Soldiers" (Hayalim Amonim) written by Stern in 1932. Here are the lyrics. An excerpt:

Our dream: to die for our people
we shall erect the homeland
with the tears of bereaved mothers
and the blood of unblemished babies.
Like with cement our bodies will bond into bricks


Here's Shulamit Livnat leading singing the anthem at a memorial service for Avraham Stern in 2012, on the 70th anniversary of Stern's death at the hands of British police in Tel Aviv. (Apparently of late there have been strong efforts to rehabilitate Stern's memory.)


Livnat is still alive (I believe) and as of 2005, had run the Rina Mor National College, the educational arm of the Jabotinsky Institute, for 20 years. In 2005 her daughter, Education Minister Limor Livnat, saw to it that her mother's salary was quadrupled. (Today Limor Livnat, a member of the Likud Party, is Minister of Culture and Sport; she is the only member of the Israeli Knesset not to have achieved a secondary school education.

As Education Minister, Limor Livnat was a member of the cabinet of Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, who passed away today. (He went into coma in 2006.)

Only fitting that the daughter of the diva of Lehi would serve under Sharon, whose crimes against the Palestinians, over a period of 55+ years, completely overshadow those of the notorious Stern Gang, still remembered as a "terrorist" group. Meanwhile, the US will be sending VP Joseph Biden to Sharon's state funeral.

Matariya Massacre January 25, 2014 + Mahragan + The Holy Family

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Reading about the events of January 25, 2014, the three year anniversary of the launch of the Egyptian uprising that toppled Hosni Mubarak, I came across casualty figures. The first stats I saw were these (in Arabic, from Shorouk News, January 26), which give a total of 53. I noticed that a lot of the casualties seemed to be from al-Matariya, a popular quarter in the north of Cairo. I counted, and the total was 21. A more recent accounting from WikiThawra gives a total of 89 dead, 28 of them from al-Matariya.

I posted the early figure of 21 on Facebook, and my FB friend Alex posted as a comment this video of the events at al-Matariya, which is titled the "al-Matariya Massacre."



It shows a very large crowd of demonstrators, at Maidan al-Matariya, and lots of Ikhwan (Muslim Brotherhood) banners. (I've since learned that Matariya was one of two sites of MB demonstrations in Cairo on January 25, the other being Alf Maskan in Ain Shams. In Alf Maskan, according to WikiThawra, 32 died in confrontations with the security forces.) The young men who seem to be leading chants at the demo, shown early in the video, don't look like your typical Ikhwan members, but rather, like prototypical fans of mahragan (electro shaabi) music. Then you see confrontations between demonstrators and the security (who are not visible, you just hear shots being fired). And then, quite gruesome footage of casualties being carried from the lines of confrontation to (rudimentary) medical care. Quite gripping and shocking footage.

On twitter, I came across this photo of damage done to a wall of the shop by the firing of the security forces. You wonder what sort of ammunition they were using...


I've hunted around and been somewhat surprised that there has been very little coverage in English (or other European languages, as far as I can tell) of these events. One guesses because they happened in a popular quarter, which is far from the places that the Western media ever hangs out in, unlike Tahrir Square, which is very accessible. Al-Matariya is off the beaten path, like all of Cairo's popular quarters. One guesses as well that the absence of the usual subjects of Western coverage (young liberals/revolutionaries with Western education) is responsible for the lack of coverage. Finally, it was a Muslim Brotherhood organized demo, which is just not as sexy as a secular demo.

And yet al-Matariya is not, in fact, entirely unknown to the Western media. It's the 'hood of the celebrated mahragan (electro shaabi) posse, Eight Percent (Tamaniya fil-Miyya), composed of vocalists Wizza, Ortega and Oka. They're responsible for many great mahragan songs, including "Ana Aslan Gamid" (I'm Really Hard). This video, as of this writing, had been viewed by over 1,315,000 people.


These Matariya homies have received a great deal of publicity in both Egypt and abroad since 2011, including from yours truly, writing in Middle East Report, more recently for the Norient Musicfilm Festival 2014, and several times on this blog. They're among the mahragan stars featured in Hind Meddeb's fine documentary, Electro Chaabi, which screened at the Norient festival.

Al-Matariya is also an important pilgrimage site for Eastern Christians. The Holy Family is said to have stopped at al-Matariya village -- whose name is said to come from the latin Mater, for the Virgin Mary. (It was part of the area of the ancient city of Heliopolis, destroyed at the time of the Persian invasion in 525 BC.) Jesus is said to have used a staff that he took from Joseph, broken it into pieces, planted them, and then dug a well which made the pieces of wood take root and grow into a balsam tree. Mary (in the story about these events in the Qur'an -- not sure what verse) is said to have used the sweet-smelling water of the well (because of the balsam tree) to wash the clothes of Jesus, and so the well is known as the Tree of the Holy Virgin. A sycamore tree was planted on the site of the balsam in 1672, and a shoot of this tree still remains til today. 

Because Mary and Jesus are venerated in the Muslim tradition, and particularly in its popular versions (although Muslims do not believe in the virgin birth), both Muslims and Christians make pilgrimage til today to the shrine of Mary's tree. There are also a Jesuit Holy Family Church and a Coptic Virgin Mary Church at the site.

(A good source on the Holy Family in Egypt is Otto F.A. Meinardus'In the Steps of the Holy Family, 1963.)

The Holy Family visited Matariya because they were fleeing a massacre...

Samira Tawfiq sings to Jordan's red kufiya

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The famous Lebanese singer Samira Tawfiq (given name: Samira Ghastin Karimona) was born in the village of Umm Hartin, in Suwayda province, Syria in 1935. Her father Ghastin worked at the Beirut harbor. She made her career in Jordan, reportedly due to all the competition from other big names like Fairouz and Sabah and Wadi' al-Safi, and she became known especially for her songs done in Bedouin dialect. Here she is singing about the red(-and-white) kufiya, which is closely associated with Jordanian national identity, particularly due to the fact that it is worn by members of the armed forces. This patriotic song dates from the 1970s, and is no doubt somehow in response to Jordan's expulsion of the Palestinian resistance movement in 1970-71. (The iconic Palestinian kufiya is the black-and-white one.)



You can download a great Samira Tawfia (Taoufik) LP here, and frankly, its songs are better than the red kufiya one.


Yasmine Hamdan in Jim Jarmusch's "Only Lovers Left Alive"

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 © Le Pacte

Can't wait to see the new Jim Jarmusch film, about vampires, taking place in Tangier and Detroit, starring, among others, Tilda Swinton and John Hurt.

A review in Huffington Post (from May, but I've only just seen the review) has this to say about Lebanese singer Yasmine Hamdan's role in it:

what gives the movie its force is the soundtrack, which culminates in a stunning performance in a Tangier bar by the Lebanese singer Yasmine Hamdan. The vampires, on a hunt for blood, stop to peep at this beautiful singer as she dances and sings, waving her highly-toned arms and wearing a sparkling spangled belt, a surprise image in the misty Moroccan night.

The film is now starting to open in Europe. The US, who knows? (I've blogged about Yasmine in the past.)

Elliott Colla's "Baghdad Central"

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I read my friend Elliott Colla's police procedural set in post-Saddam Baghdad in manuscript. I thought it was great. He hunted for publishers, and Bitter Lemon Press decided it was a fine read too.

It has only just been published, but has already received two smoking reviews, one from The Independent, the other, from The Daily Star.

Here's an introduction to what it's all about, which I've sort of cribbed from the review in The Independent. The protagonist, Inspector Muhsin al-Khafaji, is a deserter from the Iraqi police who the US forces wrongly identify as a high-ranking official under Saddam. He is tortured at Abu Ghrayb and then cuts a deal with the American occupiers to train new recruits. In return, al-Khafaji will get medical relief for his daughter, suffering from kidney failure, and unable to obtain proper treatment due to UN sanctions imposed on Saddam's Iraq.

The novel even has a youtube trailer, if you will:



And Colla has a personal webpage.

You must read this now. If you like policiers. If you are interested in Iraq. If you like books.

And please buy it from your local bookstore. Not Amazon.

Yasmine Hamdan, "Beirut" (from the forthcoming album)

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Back in 2012, I posted (on one of my other blogs, mepop) about Yasmine Hamdan's self-titled album, released in Lebanon and France in 2012, and the song "Beirut" from the album.  Here is the video that came out at that time.


The lyrics were posted as well, which I've copied below.

بيروت
شرب العرق
 شرب العرق
 لعب الورق
 خيل السبق
 صيد الحمام
 رسمال بيروت

 لبس الغوى
 شم الهوى
 اكل الهوى
 شاغل عقول
 سكان بيروت

 بيروت
 زهرة من غير أوانها
 بيروت
محلاها ومحلا زمانها
 بيروت
 يا حينها وياضيعانها
 تدبل

 ما في عمل
 ما في امل
 برك الجمل
 ركب النحس
 تجار بيروت

 الغندرة
 والفنغرة
 والبهورة
كتر البطر
 هالك بيروت

Beirut
Arak drinkin'

Card playin'
Racehorse cheerin'

Pigeon huntin'

The essence of Beirut

Seduction crowd

Cruisin' around
Foolin' about

Tis' all there is on the minds
Of the citizens of Beirut

Beirut

A flower off its terrain

Beirut
Oh her beauty, her good old days

Beirut

That dire end, all a waste

Withering

All unemployed
Hopeless
Ruined and rusted
Jinxed and accursed
Those dealers of Beirut

Oh the strutting
That fancy livin'
Excess of splurging
Exploded vanity
Smothering Beirut

Now, finally, the album (under the title Ya Nass) is being released in the US, on March 25, from the Crammed Discs label. Why the wait? Who knows? Why now? Maybe to coincide with the appearance of Yasmine in Jim Jarmusch's film Only Lovers Left Alive, which I posted about a couple weeks ago.

Here's some promo about the "new" album. In it we learn that the lyrics to "Beirut" were adapted from a poem written in the 1940s by poet Omar El Zenni. And there is new video, about which the promo tells us: "Yasmine Hamdan and her director Nadim Asfar used footage from super 8 films which were purchased in a Lebanese souk by one of Yasmine's friends, who collects them. These films were shot in various eras (from the 40s to the 70s), and are bringing these bygone times back to life." Check it out. If you've lived in Beirut, like I have, you will really like that super 8 footage.



We also learn from the promo that the song "Hal" from the album which is not on the French/Lebanese version, and this is the song that Yasmine does in the Jarmusch film. You can check it out here.

The very sharp observer Hammer commented on my earlier post. He has seen the movie, he doesn't think much of Yasmine's singing (I don't agree but I understand why he is critical). Here's what he says about the song: "The whole gig is a way to ride a now-defunct wave of using qaraqeb in pop music. [i.e. it incorporates Gnawa percussion]. Her song which she sang is not a song actually: It's a medley of words taken from old, '40s songs that most Arabs still hum and sing. The anachronistic twist is that, most Moroccans do not sing these songs or maybe know of them, as their musical tastes veer off into the malhoun and the ever-present chaabi." 

That is to say, the scene where she sings is set in Tangier, but she isn't singing Moroccan music. Unfortunately, you can't ever imagine that US directors like Jarmusch would ever care about such things. He heard Yasmine's music, he met her, she's an Arab...you know.

Here is the list of songs on the album, via iTunes. This is what the cover looks like:


 And here's the cover of the 2012 album. 


And here's more about Yasmine and the Lebanese album, from Kwaidan Records. 

I can't find a tracklist online right now for the 2012 version, so here it is: 

1. In Kan Fouadi          
2. Beirut      
3. Samar       
4. Baaden           
5. Ya Nass        
6. Irss       
7. Nediya       
8. Nag          
9. Shouei       
10. La Mouch       
11. Bala Tantanat         
 
You can check out the song "Deny"here (not on album 1). Also "Khalas" (not on album 1) here. "Samar," on album one, and two, here. "In Kan Fouadi," on one and two here.

Neve Gordon reviews Elliott Colla's 'Baghdad Central' in Los Angeles Review of Books

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And it's a good one. Here's a short extract:

Detective Khafaji may have been recruited into collaboration, but that does not mean he serves only the Americans. In fact, his story is that of an individual struggling to maintain his selfhood and values even as he loses them. Because it effectively uses the noir genre to explore how the culture of deception is one that necessarily infects everyone, it is difficult to put the book down.

The theme of the review is  "collaboration," and Gordon reviews To Be a Friend Is Fatal : The Fight to Save the Iraqis America Left Behind by Kirk Johnson as well.

Steve McQueen in Kufiya, 2009, New York Times

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I blogged about it when it happened. Appropriate, I think, in light of his film's Oscar win last night, to repost.

Here's what he looked like. Very styling. As the Times wrote, you "might mistake him for the new King of Cool." And maybe Pharrell Williams was "quoting" this picture last night? (Photo by Robert Maxwell.)

Treasure trove: Middle Eastern recorded music from the British Library

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The British Library has a very nice sound archive that includes 74 items from the Middle East, digitized shellac recordings.

Most famous of the artists recorded here (10 tracks) is the Iraqi Jewish singer Salima Murad (1970-1972), listed here as Sitt Salima Pasha, as she was also known. Her tracks are all from the 1930s.

Salima Murad

Also worth hearing are two tracks from Sitt Mounira Hawazwaz, another female Jewish Iraqi singer. Two tracks from her, also from the 1930s.

And also cool, a couple tracks recorded in Bombay, India, by Muhamed Abdul Salam, presumably a Saudi 'ud player and vocalist. Finally, six very nice tracks from Ustad Salim Rashid Suri of Oman.

You should check them all out. Like I said, a true treasure.

Documentary on the "absorption of immigrants"

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This is an eye-popping 2011 account from Israel's channel 2 of a 1951 documentary found in the Israeli army archives, about Israel's "absorption of immigrants." It is as racist and Orientalist and patronizing as can be, all about how Ashkenazi Jews are bringing the dark and savage Oriental Jews (from Yemen) into civilization and the light. Biting commentary by Yehouda Shenhav of Tel Aviv University, an Iraqi Jew.

A note on the youtube post provides this information, from Jacob Gross, about Saadia, the Yemeni "star":

Zacharia Shalom, son of Hasan and Nur (who played Saadia) was born on April 5th, 1937 in the city of Al Bida, Yemen. Died on the second day of the six-day war, June 6th, 1967, Leaving behind wife, daughter and son.

turbanophobia

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I've reported on occasion about the bohemian hipness of turbans in the US. Notable why? Because it seems to fly in the face of endemic Islamophobia.

So maybe we on the progressive front should be doing more to promote turban wearing, in solidarity with Sikh children, who, it turns out, are the massive target of bullying in US schools. (Wearing a turban would be much more radical than sporting a kufiya scarf, eh?)

As reported by Jezebel:

"A recent survey by the Sikh Coalition has found that half of Sikh children and two-thirds of Sikh children who wear their hair in turbans report being bullied at school" (emphasis added).

Where is the anti-bullying lobby on this issue?!

The report goes on to argue that this is a wider phenomenon, due largely to the post 9/11 terror hyper-hysteria:

"The period since 9/11 has been particularly difficult for Sikh Americans and their children. While Sikh children experience bullying in the classrooms, their Sikh American parents endure astoundingly high rates of hate crimes, employment discrimination, and scrutiny at the nation's airports. Brown skin and turbans have popularly become associated with terror. Crude popular culture stereotypes of terrorists and damaging media images outside the class room have made their way into the classroom to the detriment of young Sikhs."

And, whenever instances of mass shootings are discussed in the context of the need for control, why in the hell is Oak Creek, Wisconsin almost never mentioned? It was here, on August 5, 2012, that a white supremacist killed six Sikhs and wounded four others, at a Sikh Temple.

Oak Creek, Oak Creek, Oak Creek. We remember Columbine, Aurora, Newton...Why not Oak Creek?

Oh, I guess the Sikh Coalition report begins to suggest why. Many of us do not believe turban wearers are "innocent" or even "American."


Kufiya, International Women's Day

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My friend Allen shot me this photo. It was taken at Qalandiya refugee camp, in the West Bank, on International Women's Day, March 8, 2014. Love it. If it's not obvious, the women are throwing stones at Israeli soldiers.


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