Uncle Barnie Wanders Further...
Here is the continuation of Uncle Barnie's travel blog, the first post can be viewed here.
Dad's one was made in the final production run of this cult little car, and it goes like a bloody dream. I was nominated driver, which was fine by me, and once in Morocco we stopped in Rabat, Casablanca and Marakech before arriving in Essaouira.
Things of note on the drive down were giant storks building giant nests up top of telephone poles, and a dog eating a goat. Not much heard in the way of tunes on the way down, except the ever present call of the Azan, the Islamic prayer, blasted out of tinny speakers housed in the towers of local mosques. I made my first recording of this call in Rabat, at about 6am one morning. Swallows were nesting up top the window frame I had stuck my recorder out of, and were beginning to wake up and have a chat. A club somewhere close was still bombarding some poor bastards ear drums, and the muffled gabba like bass drum could just be made out, as well as the odd moped and bus chugging dudes off to work. Typed up like this it all sounds a bit like a kalashnikov vomiting into a pot of gravy, but it actually turned out to be a sweet 2-minute recording.
Essaouira is I guess the Raglan of Morocco. There are surfers here, and a beautiful long beach with mini sand dunes at the far end and camels... and lots of dudes. It seems Islam is still having its initial flirtations with the bikini. Its slow going, but looks promising. In the old town or medina Dad and I fluked a room in the house of a French couple who are soon to be opening up a shop here. They are swell relaxed people, and I've ended up designing their logo somehow...
Musically I have had my first brain/soul/heart explosion, a moment that occurred five days ago now. Through the ever-brilliant 'friends of friends' network I found myself in the house of a local Ma'alem or maestro of Gnaoua music. We walked up the thin and well-worn stairs to his workshop, where he makes Gimbri and then on through into his humble music room or salon.
Gimbri
The walls of this room are covered in posters of festivals from all over Europe that Ma'alem Sadik has played at - he seems to be in great demand from electro-fusion type outfits. We shared a beer, which is a bit hush-hush in Morocco, but this particular Ma'alem is kind of rock & roll. He met Jimi Hendrix back in the day. Hendrix, along with a few other gangsters like Jimmy Page, Robert Plant and Mick Jagger spent time here when it was briefly home to a small hippy community. The locals soon got tired of the 'not wear clothes at the beach' technique though and the hippies got the boot. But it seems some of their influence has remained, a smudge of relaxed non-conformism perhaps. That mixed with the gentle power of true Islamic spirituality makes Ma'alems like Sadik a joy to hang out with. Muslims traditionally place good manners and kindness as next to godliness, and the Ma'alems hospitality towards a wide-eyed New Zealander with a threadbare grasp of French and Arabic was mind-blowing.
I interviewed him using my Father as an interpreter, and then made some recordings of him playing his instrument. The Gimbri is kind of like a percussive African bass guitar, and is traditionally accompanied by men playing karkaba - a type of metal castanet. Once a groove is settled into, and the 'introductory passage' is completed, the singing begins – this beautiful plaintiff wailing. The song structure is quite complex, as is the arrangement of the songs in an evening’s performance.
Karkaba
Well i got to sit in on a few kiff infused sessions, and eventually the ma'alem invited me to jam with him on a battered old 5 string guitar. It took a while to find the rhythm, as the Gimbri has really long phrases that at first seem to pay little attention to the beat of the karkaba. I wanted to just play blues riffs as I had read about the similarities with blues and Gnaoua music, and after a minute or so - bam, it all slid into place and was beautiful. Truly an amazing musical moment in my life. I was with my Dad, and he actually zoned into a trance beside me, which made the ma'alem stop and check he was ok. He explained he had gone into a jedba or trance which is sort of the idea with Gnaoua jams or lilas. They usually last all night, but after a couple of hours Dad and I floated home all sorts of high.
So that was it, my first musical brain/soul/heart explosion on this trip... Allhumdullah!!
Uncle Barnie Wanders Further...
Well my Father and I left Ibiza. He decided to join me on a drive down to Morocco, from Denia in Spain where the Ibiza ferry deposited us, then down through southern Spain to Albaceras, then a wee ferry ride across the Straight of Gibraltar to Africa. We then took a few days cruising 80km along the coast of North Western Africa to Essaouira, the place where this Gnaoua Music Festival is to be held. We took off in a Renault 4, which looks like this:
Dad's one was made in the final production run of this cult little car, and it goes like a bloody dream. I was nominated driver, which was fine by me, and once in Morocco we stopped in Rabat, Casablanca and Marakech before arriving in Essaouira.
Things of note on the drive down were giant storks building giant nests up top of telephone poles, and a dog eating a goat. Not much heard in the way of tunes on the way down, except the ever present call of the Azan, the Islamic prayer, blasted out of tinny speakers housed in the towers of local mosques. I made my first recording of this call in Rabat, at about 6am one morning. Swallows were nesting up top the window frame I had stuck my recorder out of, and were beginning to wake up and have a chat. A club somewhere close was still bombarding some poor bastards ear drums, and the muffled gabba like bass drum could just be made out, as well as the odd moped and bus chugging dudes off to work. Typed up like this it all sounds a bit like a kalashnikov vomiting into a pot of gravy, but it actually turned out to be a sweet 2-minute recording.
Essaouira is I guess the Raglan of Morocco. There are surfers here, and a beautiful long beach with mini sand dunes at the far end and camels... and lots of dudes. It seems Islam is still having its initial flirtations with the bikini. Its slow going, but looks promising. In the old town or medina Dad and I fluked a room in the house of a French couple who are soon to be opening up a shop here. They are swell relaxed people, and I've ended up designing their logo somehow...
Musically I have had my first brain/soul/heart explosion, a moment that occurred five days ago now. Through the ever-brilliant 'friends of friends' network I found myself in the house of a local Ma'alem or maestro of Gnaoua music. We walked up the thin and well-worn stairs to his workshop, where he makes Gimbri and then on through into his humble music room or salon.
Gimbri
The walls of this room are covered in posters of festivals from all over Europe that Ma'alem Sadik has played at - he seems to be in great demand from electro-fusion type outfits. We shared a beer, which is a bit hush-hush in Morocco, but this particular Ma'alem is kind of rock & roll. He met Jimi Hendrix back in the day. Hendrix, along with a few other gangsters like Jimmy Page, Robert Plant and Mick Jagger spent time here when it was briefly home to a small hippy community. The locals soon got tired of the 'not wear clothes at the beach' technique though and the hippies got the boot. But it seems some of their influence has remained, a smudge of relaxed non-conformism perhaps. That mixed with the gentle power of true Islamic spirituality makes Ma'alems like Sadik a joy to hang out with. Muslims traditionally place good manners and kindness as next to godliness, and the Ma'alems hospitality towards a wide-eyed New Zealander with a threadbare grasp of French and Arabic was mind-blowing.
I interviewed him using my Father as an interpreter, and then made some recordings of him playing his instrument. The Gimbri is kind of like a percussive African bass guitar, and is traditionally accompanied by men playing karkaba - a type of metal castanet. Once a groove is settled into, and the 'introductory passage' is completed, the singing begins – this beautiful plaintiff wailing. The song structure is quite complex, as is the arrangement of the songs in an evening’s performance.
Karkaba
Well i got to sit in on a few kiff infused sessions, and eventually the ma'alem invited me to jam with him on a battered old 5 string guitar. It took a while to find the rhythm, as the Gimbri has really long phrases that at first seem to pay little attention to the beat of the karkaba. I wanted to just play blues riffs as I had read about the similarities with blues and Gnaoua music, and after a minute or so - bam, it all slid into place and was beautiful. Truly an amazing musical moment in my life. I was with my Dad, and he actually zoned into a trance beside me, which made the ma'alem stop and check he was ok. He explained he had gone into a jedba or trance which is sort of the idea with Gnaoua jams or lilas. They usually last all night, but after a couple of hours Dad and I floated home all sorts of high.
So that was it, my first musical brain/soul/heart explosion on this trip... Allhumdullah!!
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