LUCIDMEDIA

The Music of Rachid Taha

Written by Catherine Kustanczy Friday, 18 July 2008 09:21

The show started off slowly, his Taha making his entrance to the slouching beats of “Shuf” (taken from his 2004 album, Tekitoi?, or “who are you?”), dressed in fedora, black suit, white shirt, tie and shocking white shoes. Taha calls it his “Blues Brothers” look, a nod to only one of the genres that’s been so deep an influence on him. With shades of jazz, dance, and hip hop, the band launched into “Meftuh” (also from Tekitoi?) with a laid-back, bass-heavy approach, building energy in stages, and sounds in various layers. By the celebratory strains of “Rani” (from Diwan 2), Taha had thrown his jacket off and was tugging at his tie like an errant schoolboy.

Performing music taken from a Best Of collection recently released in North America, the show freely mixed style and genres with abandon, making use of the two percussionists onstage (including talented dumbek player Rachid Becegem) as well as the considerable skills of mandalute player Hakim Hamadouche. The sound of the oud-come-mandolin, with its crispy strings and tangy timbre, mixed with the heavy metal sounds of Taha’s second guitarist, plus bassist, full-kit drummer and keyboardist made for a madly jubilant, defiantly unclassifiable mix of sonic brashness that is a hallmark of Taha’s career. With a history as varied as his (moves between punk bands, work with rai supertars Khaled and Faudel, getting banned in Arab countries, winning the BBC World Music Prize), Taha wears his ‘defiant classifiable’ status like a badge of honour. Whether it will win him any new fans in North America is up for debate, although watching him live, it’s not hard to see –or hear –the influences his heroes have had on him. Shades of Brian Eno, Patti Smith, Led Zeppelin, The Clash, and the dance-music leanings of North African rai all loom large.

For a man used to playing arenas and stadiums through Europe and Africa, it was interesting to consider how he might approach a small club show filled with initially-quiet Canadians. Would he pull the diva routine? Not at all. Despite being marred by sound issues (he went off the stage and conferred with worried-looking sound guys more than once) he was a perfect entertainer and band leader, showing remarkable patience, class, and direction, particularly in ‘conducting’ fellow band members, using hand gestures to direct them sonically: quiet, stop, go, louder, fast, faster. Though looking like he’d barely slept between his prior gigs in Ottawa (at the Blues Festival) and New York City’s Central Park (as part of Summerstage), he was precise in controlling how his music should sound.

The classic Algerian song “Ya Rayah”, which has become an anthem of the dispossessed with its lyrical longing for home, began with Hamadouche singing and playing a hauntingly beautiful contemplation. After being joined by Taha et al, the pace and sonic richness of the piece was turned up, turning the piece into a party tune par excellence. “Rock El Casbah”, Taha’s salute to The Clash, was given a peppy, loud interpretation that kept the punk spirit of the original happily intact. Despite missing a few lyrics here and there (the middle section of the hip-hop-meets-heavy-rock “Safi” was left off, alas) Taha nonetheless proved the consummate showman, jumping and shimmying, directing a call and response between band and audience (as for “Ecoute Moi Camarade”), cracking jokes, making observations about his closely-proximated fans, and generally soaking up the love and adoration of a crowd clearly seduced by the growling baritone singer’s considerable charms.

Taha’s is a playful stage presence, filled with rock star posing and sexy swagger. Sure, he’s a serious artist who’s been handed the “world” music title (by both critics, and literally, in the form of an award presented by Luce Strummer, widow of the deceased frontman for The Clash), but that doesn’t mean he’s dour, or that he takes himself too seriously. He shook his hips, made faces, and even, at one point, grabbed his crotch. Depending on your own age and background, it may or may not be shocking to consider a) he originally hails from a conservative Muslim country; b) he’s turning 50 in September. Not that any of that mattered, either to him or the crowd at the Phoenix who grooved, cheered, and sweated up a storm for the entirety of Taha’s two-plus hour set. Standing at the edge of a platform, he raised his hands as cameras flashes, arms, and screams erupted. He didn’t leave the perch either, but stayed and posed for pictures with adoring fans, shook outstretched hands, and, at one point, sat silently at the platform’s edge, a hand on his face, wearing a look of wonder. Sure he’s used to playing bigger spaces, but there was something about the intimacy of this club gig that obviously affected him at a deeper level than adoration might. Women at the front of the stage danced with abandon, men pumped their fists and danced in equal joy. Incroyable. Coming from a culture where gender separation is considered the societal norm, Taha brought the two together under the umbrella of great art and joyful noise. And that’s really what Taha’s music –and career, for that matter –have always been about.

Bridging the divides between styles, sounds, instruments, ideologies, and people through music is a powerful medium that transcends any external barrier –language included. Though barely a word of English was spoken over the course of the evening, no one left the Phoenix following Taha’s performance at a loss over what it all meant. Sweaty clothing, smiling faces, and dirty feet were proof enough.

Rock El Casbah: The Best of Rachid Taha (Wrasse Records) is out now.
Rachid Taha plays at the Jazz East Festival in Halifax on July 15th.


For more information, go to http://rachidtaha.artistes.universalmusic.fr/
or www.myspace.com/rachidtaha.