Idir and Najat Aatabou

Idir and Najat Aatabou
Avery Fisher Hall: July 18, 2009

Idir is iconic for Algerians of a certain age. It’s not only that he has written and sung so poignantly about the life and struggles of the Tamazight (Berber) people of Kabyle—long victims of a campaign of Arabization practiced by successive governments. Idir is a people’s poet who merged a deeply Algerian sensibility with the warm aesthetic of French popular song. With just his acoustic guitar and his silky voice, Idir can sing ballads that will reduce a hall to tears. By the time I reached Avery Fisher, that part was over, and Idir and his band had the crowd on their feet and howling. Tamazight flags were waving amid flying arms and heads turned skyward. People were singing, clapping, and dancing in a mood of revelry rare at any concert. Within seconds it was clear that this unassuming man on stage had a profound hold on the hearts of an Algerian generation, and they were present, and overwhelmed to at last see him in New York City.

Idir concluded his set with “Zwit Rwit (Party On),” one of his lighter songs, and one heard by many Western fans when rai star Khaled reinterpreted it as “El Harba Wine.” The trek uptown was worth it just for this moment, as happy an exchange between audience and artist as I have seen anywhere.

The “party on” message was certainly picked up by Najat Aatabou. Aatabou comes from the Middle Atlas mountains in Morocco, and began singing as a little girl, against her conservative family’s wishes. But all one has to do is hear her sing anything and it is clear that this woman was MADE to sing, and nothing was going to stop her. Since then, Aatabou has spent decades in Casablanca, performing and recording with folkloric backing (lotar and frame drums), with orchestra, and even as part of a mix by The Chemical Brothers. These days, she favors a modern, shaabi band, with lots of percussion, guitar, keyboards, bass, and more percussion. It is bracing and certainly got her fans going, especially women who crowded close to the stage waving their arms in appreciation and joy.

However, the presentation does take some of the attention away from that fabulous voice. Najat has a raw, torn, deeply powerful vocal instrument. It bores into the soul and awakens surprising emotions—furious, wounded love, resilience and stamina. During the opening of her set, she sang with just her violinist, and chills rippled down my spine instantly. Unfortunately, that never happened again. Once the band hit, it was pretty much an hour of high-voltage Casablanca pop, bracing and joyful to be sure, but altogether lacking in pacing and dynamics. There was a wonderful moment when the musicians all took up hand drums and stood around Aatabou in a simulation of a more rustic musical setting. But how sweet it would have been to hear an acoustic song in the mix, or even passages where the band dropped back to let that exquisite voice reign supreme. In the end, a cultural divide separates the expectations of fans used to Casablanca nightclubs from those of the high-end world music fans who ventured to Avery Fisher out of curiosity that night. By the end of Aatabou’s breathless set, mostly the former group remained, jammed close to the stage, and wild with excitement. As with Idir, the audience became the show. The Tamzight solidarity was flowing, as well as Moroccan national pride, and also something more universal, the wonder of seeing the moment when a young village girl with exceptional talent makes it to the big time at Lincoln Center. I hope Najat returns one day with a show that shows more of her range, but even if that never happens, it was an honor to witness her New York debut.

A concluding note. While all this was going on, they were celebrating Mandela Day in Madison Square Garden, with Baaba Maal, Jesse Clegg (Johnny’s son), and a load of other African artists sharing the stage with Stevie Wonder and other American pop legends. Ah, to be three places at once, rather than just two!