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rank’s roots are in gypsy jazz, so a bit of that inevitably swings into the mix too. “We play the traditional reper- toire but give it our own arrangements,” says the softly- spoken Yazid. “And we’re developing our own material, which is very much in the tradition.” They perform most- ly instrumental music, but have been known to bring on gutsy London-based Algerian vocalist Rachida Lamri for a song or two. “She’s a wonderful singer,” says Frank, “but I think it works best when the band are all singing harmonies together in the tradi- tional style. There’s a real energy there.”
Fantazia are still a going concern, but the logistics of main- taining a big band in the current economic climate mean that El Andaluz have currently got a lot more happening. They’ve made a rather impressive album (reviewed in fR347) which you can buy at their gigs – and their gigs are well worth getting along to, espe- cially if there are a lot of Algerians in the crowd!
Next stop on our tour of North African musical hotspots is Bridlington, East Yorkshire! Home to last year’s Musicport Festival, one of the highlights of which (to my ears at least) was a Sunday lunchtime set from Libyan-born, Bolton-based Tuareg singer-gui- tarist Danto Aya. A low-key performer, clad in traditional robes and headscarf, he plays and sings with a gentle power far removed from the current crop of Tuareg blues-rockers. He’s from the vil- lage of Agar in southwest Libya (although he appears to identify himself more as Tuareg than Libyan).
Agar was also where members of Tinariwen were based when they lived in Libya. “So I have a relationship with those artists,” he explains, when we meet backstage. “And from them I learn about Tuareg blues, about revolution music, about the guitar.” He formed his own band with friends. “But we were in secret, because you don’t have any right to sing any song without Arabic. Gaddafi don’t allow nothing for Tuareg people! It doesn’t matter what you’re singing, you can’t sing in the Tuareg language when you’re out in a show or whatever. So you just close the room, you know who’s coming, who’s going… in secret.”
Danto was caught and imprisoned many times for promoting his culture amongst the young Tuaregs. Six years ago he decided enough was enough and came to the UK (via Italy and France). At the time of our meeting he was still trying to sort out his citizen- ship, but remains philosophical. “I have friends and support here, it’s not bad my life.” All the while he’s been making music, both as a solo artist and more recently with a band. He composes every- thing himself, starting with the lyrics.
“The problem which I have inside my heart and inside my blood, is the situation for Tuareg people, what they experience, what we see happening to them every day and nobody ques- tions… no country, no politicians, no journalists, no one! We don’t have somebody who talks about the Tuareg, so we do the music to show the people our problems, our situation. That’s why I don’t like to change what I sing about. I don’t play for money or to become a millionaire. I just sing about what is important to me.”
His band, which features Brit blues/ folk guitarist Dave Thom and trad Irish flautist Paul Daley, got together as a result of an informal jam session at Musicport the previous year. “We play flute in Tuareg music,” Danto explains. “Traditionally we play it alone. But the situation here in the UK makes me try for every- thing. So for many years now I try working with different guys, dif- ferent artists. But I don’t just like turning up and playing. I like my music to be a little bit special… for people, but most of all for me.”
The young Sudanese vocalist Amira Kheir is causing a bit of a buzz around the London world music scene. Her 2011 album View From Somewhere (Contro Culturo Music) was a good calling card, but it’s as a live performer that she really comes into her own. An engaging presence with a lovely honey ’n’ spice voice, she’s backed by a band that’s noticeable for its fiery sophistication and com- plete lack of Sudanese musicians.
Following a typically assured performance at Camden’s Forge Arts Centre, I grab a few minutes with the charming Miss K. Her parents are Sudanese but she was born in Turin and grew up trav- elling back and forth between Italy and Sudan, hearing a lot of traditional Sudanese music as she went. “It’s part of life,” she tells me. “Expression happens through music. I’ve been singing my whole life, but only professionally since I came to London in 2003, originally to study… then the music just exploded!” She started out doing jazz and soul covers (the influence of both genres still hangs heavy in her sound) while studying politics at London’s School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS). “I was writing my own material all the time and a few years after I finished my stud- ies I started to perform my own songs. I wrote in English, Arabic and Italian. But I find that Arabic is a naturally expressive lan- guage, it’s my mother tongue and one day I just decided to con- centrate on that.”
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