Okay, so it’s been well over a month and the year is almost done, but we trust that today’s entry will be every bit as fresh to you as it was to us in late November. We apologize for the delay; after getting through two debilitating afflictions—one being Thanksgiving weekend (and all the brutal travel that entails), the other being a three-week stint on a jury trial in New York City municipal court—it took us a minute to get back up to speed and bring you the additional news we promised on the inaugural Australasian World Music Expo in Melbourne. So let’s get back into it…

For a relatively remote island nation that’s barely the size of Italy, New Zealand boasts a rich and thriving cultural history. American audiences probably know more about NZ from a visual standpoint, thanks in part to the films of Peter Jackson and the TV productions of Sam Raimi, whose love affair with the island’s lush countryside goes back to the Hercules and Xena: Warrior Princess vehicles (and continues with his latest series, Legend of the Seeker). Meanwhile, the arthouse geeks among us will be familiar with Lee Tamahori’s Once Were Warriors and Niki Caro’s Whale Rider—all well and good, as they say, but in the end it’s the music that paints a truly comprehensive picture, no matter where you come from.

For its part, New Zealand has consistently exported a wealth of musical styles, from rock, hip-hop and reggae to the traditional Maori haka (line dances with chants) and everything in between. And if there’s anything you want to know about the NZ music scene, you need to speak to Anton Carter (pictured above). Not only is he a founding member and lead MC for the hip-hop group Rhombus, but he’s also the strategy advisor to the Arts Council of New Zealand, and for the last decade has spearheaded numerous funding and development programs for musicians all over the island. With the rise to international prominence of such bands as Fat Freddys Drop and the Black Seeds, Carter sees a bright future for NZ acts on the worldwide stage.

“We’ve got more professional artists now—more critical mass,” he observes. “In the last 15 years, particularly in music, we’ve really matured, so what we’re seeing now is that growth and maturity, where people are more confident in what they’re doing. We’ve got to the point where instead of trying to look out to the rest of the world to get information about whether we’re doing something right, we actually turned around and said, ‘Forget about that. We’ll just do what we want to do.’ And in my opinion, I think New Zealand is a wonderful place to learn the craft—to make your mistakes, to increase your skills, and to get better at performing and developing your own sound. What we’re seeing now internationally are the results of that.”

Two artists in particular at AWME made Carter’s point for him. Kora is a formidable five-piece band consisting of Maori brothers Laughton, Francis, Stuart and Brad, who along with family friend and bassist Dan McGruer have reclaimed the hardcore funk sound that drove such classic acts as Parliament-Funkadelic, Cameo and later, Fishbone. Not only do they nail the rock-funk amalgam with a vengeance, but they also spice it up with heavy dub vibes and astonishingly thick layers of vocal harmonies that’ll send tingles up the base of your spine.

Then there’s singer-songwriter and MC Ladi6 (nee Karoline Tamati), already a fixture in NZ and Australia for her soul-baring delivery, which conjures echoes of India Arie and even Lauryn Hill, but again with a distinctive roots feel reminiscent of a certain Caribbean island that lies halfway around the world. Her music is playful, savvy and sophisticated, and on top of that, she’s got a stage presence that kept just about everybody in the Spiegeltent space transfixed throughout her set.

Keep an ear out for these and other NZ-based musicians like Scribe (a hip-hop MC who’s big in Australia right now), Little Bushman (pure psychedelia) and many more; they’re definitely poised to give American headliners a run for their lucre.

“You know, seven years ago I was telling people, ‘You’ve gotta watch out for this band Fat Freddys Drop,’” Carter says. “And once people knew them, then I kept saying, ‘Okay, now you’ve gotta hear this band called Kora. These guys are next!’ [laughs] But again, I think the beauty of what’s happening in New Zealand is that people aren’t afraid to mix genres. If you want to get a gig, you can’t specialize. You’ve gotta allow yourself to be influenced by everything, and all these artists are examples of that.”

Greetings from the land of all things antipodal—you know, where summer is winter, the toilets flush counter-clockwise and kangaroos breed like stray cats in a trailer park, right?

Well, not so fast: we’re reporting from Melbourne—an exceedingly lively, diverse and cosmopolitan city, and host to this year’s inaugural Australasian World Music Expo, or AWME. This gathering of topnotch musicians, producers and industry movers from all over Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific Islands is vying to become one of the prime showcases for the region’s deep range of indigenous talent. After a whirlwind four days of non-stop music, informative panel discussions and impromptu late-night raps about the state of “world music” today (and whether the term itself has outlived its usefulness), we can safely say that AWME has lived up to every bit of its potential, and without question merits a return visit in 2009.

“I guess the idea for this came about by attending expos and trade fairs in Europe and North America, and realizing that there was very little profile or understanding of indigenous and world music from Australia and the region,” explains producer and expo organizer Simon Raynor, who recalls feeling mystified, along with Australian musician and producer David Bridie, by the near total absence of Australasian artists at even the prestigious WOMAD Festival, among others. “We wanted to come up with an event that could showcase artists from this region to international delegates. But instead of flying a whole bunch of artists to Europe and North America, we turned that on its head and decided to fly a whole bunch of delegates to Melbourne to see a focused showcase of artists from our region.”

AWME 2008 has indeed been a focused and intimate gathering, but its modest size hasn’t diminished the quality of the content in the least. Indigenous singer-songwriters like Kutcha Edwards and Bart Willoughby (pictured) have been playing back-to-back with more progressive bands like Melbourne-based Chilean jazz-funk upstarts Labjacd, while dancers and drummers from Badu Island have shared the same stage with folk rockers like James Henry and Liz Stringer. Fully supported by the Australia Council for the Arts, funded by Arts Victoria and the Australia Council, and based for its four-day run at Melbourne’s sprawling Arts Centre—which is augmented by the 300-plus capacity Spiegeltent for live performances—the expo hit all the right notes for its first time out.

And if last night’s closing party was any indication, the future is certainly bright. For us wayward yanks, the highlight of the night was a string of jams by Aboriginal legend and national treasure Bart Willoughby. Joined by players from local roots reggae band Mista Savona and krump stylists Grrilla Step, Willoughby cut through the mix with a soulful wail that belies his shy, reserved nature offstage. Punctuating his phrasings with yelps and shouts, his delivery really has to be heard to be believed. Check out this video for a taste of Bart’s singing and drumming skills, and if you can find it, get your hands on the classic From My Eyes EP by his band, No Fixed Address.

In the coming days, we’ll be blogging with some more reflections on AWME 2008—after we’ve sifted through the many photos, handwritten notes and CDs we collected along the way. For now, we’re gearing up for our 20-hour flight back to NYC. See you on the flip…

NEXT: Funkin’ for New Zealand

The South By Southwest music, film and media festival has been on the music calendar of many Southern and Midwestern music fans for two decades, but the March convocation has grown in recent years to near overwhelming international proportions where 15,000 music industry and fans catch nearly 2000 bands over the course of four days. Global Rhythm tossed its hat in the ring this year by hosting a night of music at Austin’s Copa Bar And Grill. While the line-up shifted a bit in the last minute, the night was a resounding success both musically and attendance-wise, giving the GR-staffers a real shot of enthusiasm to bring with them as they made their way home the next day.

The night at the Copa began with a wonderful set by Senegalese kora player Boubacar Diabate and his band. Featuring Diabate as well as guitar, upright bass and drums, the quartet played a quietly hypnotic set that mesmerized the crowd. Since the first band didn’t show, Diabate played a full 90-minute set that was punctuated with thrilling kora and acoustic guitar runs, and a bit of jazzy interplay in the rhythm section, which was able to follow the leader through every twist and turn.

Cranking up the amps and the energy, Lobi Traore and Joep Pelt followed with a set that was a rocking combination of Northern Mali desert blues and African highlife pop. From the first note it was apparent that the band was there to play music for people to dance and party to. With Pelt and Traore trading lead guitar lines and vocal turns, the electric four-piece plowed through the set as if it was holed up in a rowdy Bamako bar.

After a rocking set, local heroes Joel Laviolette & Rattletree Marimba set up shop. It was a sight to see with musicians stationed at four different marimbas (wooden xylophone-like instruments). The stage was filled with instruments, but it was the bass marimba that was hard to miss – the eight-foot long instrument stood about six feet in the air and the musician had to play it with giant mallets while standing on a platform. Taking its initial inspiration from the marimba music of Zimbabwe, the group of percussionists created an ebb-and-flow, trance-like groove that the crowd responded to with more dancing.

Morocco by way of California’s Aza followed with it’s own hypnotic blend of modern Moroccan music deeply influenced by Berber music and culture of the Atlas mountains. The beats where electronically and acoustically generated with guitars, horns and a number of other stringed instruments filling out the sound. Warm call and response vocals floated over the top at times, seemingly inviting the entire crowd to join in, while at other times dense rhythms pushed songs along.  

Other highlights of the festival were many:

Spanish rapper Mala Rodriguez held herself in good stead with a smokin’ and fun half- hour set one Thursday. Rupa And The Fishes played the Copa on Friday night with a fine set even better than her New York debut. The English Beat played a gig light on convention folk but packed by locals on Friday night, sadly only Dave Wakeling is the only member left. The Slits dub-punk sounded just as good on Thursday as it did when they released their classic Cut back in 1979. Caught the Indian rock band Menwhopause on Tuesday and thought they were pretty good, and nice guys to boot. Firewater played the Bloodshot day party on Friday and made a great impression after an all-to-brief four-song set, which featured among others Boom Pam’s Uri Kinrot on lead guitar and percussionist Johnny Kalsi, who no doubt was a first musician to ever play a Bloodshot party wearing a turban. Yael Naim dazzled a small packed ballroom at The Driskill Hotel on Friday, and yes she played “New Soul” from the Apple ad. All in all, there were more than 30 bands playing classified in the world music genre and talking with the booker it sounds like it could be more in the years to come.

Even with the aid of a few well-timed hallucinogens, it’s usually a tall order to close your eyes at a live show and find yourself in a completely different time and place—but somehow, Cambodian-born singer Chhom Nimol manages to induce that state of time travel. In her case, the destination is mid-1960s Phnom Penh at the height of the Khmer pop craze (touched off by such icons as Sinn Sisamouth and Ros Sereysothea), and she conjures it in deceptively easy fashion with a little well-shaped reverb on her vocal mic—oh yeah, and five Cali-based musicians who are all arch purveyors of the style.

Dengue Fever brought their distinctive psych-rock surf sound to New York’s Mercury Lounge last night, and as it turned out, the small venue was a perfect outlet for the band’s raw energy. From the back of the room, Nimol appeared barely more than five feet tall standing on a phone book, but when she belted out wistfully haunting pop rockers like “Tiger Phone Card” (from the band’s latest album Venus On Earth, out now on the L.A. label M80) in her strong soprano, it quickly became clear who was running the show. And although she’s not a technically perfect singer, Nimol throws her heart and soul into it, which makes her an instant hit with just about any crowd. Clad in silver lamé and looking in every respect like a young nightclub diva from a bygone age, she was regaled between songs by the (significantly) male audience with hoots and hollers, and basked in it all with grace and good humor.

Of course, the other half of the equation is the band. Led by guitarist Zac Holtzman, Dengue Fever throws down a blistering mix of acid rock and west coast surf-punk, laced with filigrees of free improv and Southeast Asian melodic scales. Holtzman is an expert at emulating the sound and mood of vintage James Bond surf guitar (it helps to have a Fender Jaguar as your main axe, along with whatever Fender Vibrolux-style amp you can get your hands on), while his brother Ethan holds forth on Farfisa organ with all the mildly detached aplomb of Ray Manzarek in his heyday. The stalwart rhythm section of Senon Williams on bass and Paul Dreux Smith on drums (with guest percussionist Nappy G, formerly of Groove Collective) definitely tested the seemingly fragile sound system at the Merc, but if flubbering woofers and distorting high end aren’t part and parcel of a gig like this, then what is?

If you’ve ever wanted to get an inkling of what it might have been like to stretch out in a speakeasy on Monivong Boulevard back when Vietnam was still just a conflict, then Dengue Fever is for you. If you’re wondering where that music might have headed if all its originators hadn’t been “disappeared” by the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s, then Dengue Fever is also for you. Either way, it’s a giddy and gripping live experience that shouldn’t be missed.

I caught the premier of Sunny Jain’s new project last Thursday at Joe’s Pub. Jain was commissioned by Chamber Music America and co-sponsored by Sakhi for South Asian Women and Breakthrough to compose music about the situation of domestic violence, homosexuality, and HIV/AIDS, (particularly as these issues pertain to women) so the title of the performance, Taboo, is well-chosen.

Taboo consists of Sunny Jain on the drums and dhol (more on this later) along with several regulars from the Sunny Jain Collective: Marc Cary on piano, Steve Welsh on tenor saxophone/sound effects, Gary Wang on bass, and Samita Sinha and Achyut Joshi sharing vocals. For the premier performance of this material the group faired well, although there were some definite rough patches.

Jain’s compositions are rooted firmly in the school of contemporary jazz, albeit the heavy South Asian influence of his melodies, and the sometimes Hindi and Urdu lyrics. More specifically, Jain’s music is contemporary jazz written by a drummer nerd, so there ran into a few rough spots during transitions in and out of several mixed-meter patterns. The microtonal component of South Asian vocal music add an extra layer of rhythmic complexity and nuance to songs like “Ye Mera Khuda”, “Hum Gunahgaar Auraten” and “Basa Bhagwaan”, so Taboo has to do a little more counting than the next band to make sure the grove stays intact and the eighth notes still swing.

Regardless, both Sinha and Joshi paid all the respect due to the rather grim themes at the core of Taboo’s mandate: domestic violence, HIV-positive women cast out of their homes, and a society unaccepting of homosexuality. Thankfully, the project’s lyrical content (from poets Vikram Seth, Kishwar Naheed, Ali Mir, Ifti Nasim, and Erin Thomas) managed to avoid overdrama, and the singers were able to fill the audience with a sense of scathing courage or comedy rather than helplessness. Mercifully, lyrics and translations were provided, so here’s a couple of highlights:

It is we sinful women/Who are not intimidated/By the magnificence of those who wear robes.

(“Hum Gunahgaar Auraten”/”We Sinful Women”—Kishwar Naheed)

In the strict ranks/of gay and straight/What is my status?/Stray or great?

(“Jack and Jill” —Vikram Seth)

One last note: I consider it partially misleading that Jain credits himself as playing the dhol. The only taste of the dhol the audience received lasted less than half a song, and it was really, really great. Jain stole the whole club’s attention during an introduction in which he suited on the two-headed drum, visibly restraining the urge to break out into the kind of hectic improvisation he brought to the kit. Disappointingly, that was all: more of a novelty to recharge the crowd’s batteries than as serious tool in Jain’s compositional catalog. Perhaps this was intentional, or perhaps the instrument was a casualty of the rather strict time limits that Joe’s Pub enforces. Or maybe it was the fact that New York just got slammed by a blizzard earlier in the day. One thing is certain, though: the Sunny Jain Collective’s got a long chain of upcoming gigs from December through February, and it’ll be great to see some of the pieces from Taboo when the band’s had a bit more time with them.

I heard a lot of great music at this year’s WOMEX in Seville, Spain. But a night that has stuck with me was when a few colleagues and I met up after the WOMEX music was over to check out some flamenco music at a small bar on the other side of the river. Strolling in around 2:30 in the morning the bar was packed. That in itself isn’t unusual in Spain on a Saturday night. Neither was the fact that there was a gent in the corner was singing as those on the couch next to him were people clapping out the flamenco rhythm. He sang passionately and he was obviously experience performer yet all while a small group hung on his every line, the rest of the bar was content to listen as they drank, talked and smoked.

After a few songs he stopped to talk those sitting with him, then in another corner of the bar some 20-somethings (I would later find out was a wedding party) broke into song and two girls got up and danced in the tiny space between their own set of couches. The singing wasn’t as skilled and the dancing so precise as professionals would be, but the group broke out into laughter and applause after its song. A few minutes later the old pro did another song, then after a bit the kids would do another. This went on for a while with the kids going strong until near the end of the night.

The music was great, but what was so cool about the night was to watch the music being played in a local bar with no stage. And watching the amateurs, un-intimidated by the pro decide to do their own songs. In the U.S. there seems to such a barrier between performer and audience, particularly in the worlds of rock, jazz and blues. The talented musicians in these genres have made it their life to study and play music and have dazzling chops, great songs or whatever. But I found it so heartening to see that traditional Spanish was still part of the fabric of life for that bridal party. Rather than sticking coins in the jukebox and singing along to Hall and Oats or Madonna, they were singing flamenco songs that they all knew. Americans can find this sort celebration of local music in select pockets in Bluegrass Country, down in Louisiana and on the Celtic music scene, as a whole, traditional music is not a part of our general tradition growing up here in the States. TH

Gilberto Gil,Tropicalia-legend-turned-Brazilian-Cultural-Minister, has for a long time been calling for an international overhaul in intellectual property/copy rights. Here’s a post from Martin LaMonica at CNet (via Wired) on a speech Gil gave at the MIT EmTech conference last month. Gil’s theory is that an “open-source” model of digital music/technology/software licensing will “give more people the freedom to use and republish digital forms of content as a way of encouraging personal expression, culture and political participation.” Gil points to success in the creation of 650 “tech centers” throughout Brazil, which have for the first time given some Brazilians access to computers, internet access, and audio/video technology at no cost. And just in case the cynics out there were wondering, the Tropicalisto put his money where his mouth is and reissued some of his music to encourage sharing and remixing. Free music after the jump.

Now for the good stuff:

You can listen to just about every song Gilberto Gil has ever recorded on his website. It’s all streaming audio, and he’s even included lyric sheets as well as the occasional set of guitar tabs (woo!). Enjoy.

Here’s an interesting post by Everett True over at the Village Voice on the politics/origin of “world music” as a term and a genre. It’s a pretty important conversation in the music community that began at some point in the ’80’s when the term was first used to create a niche genre in the American/UK record industries.

True points out the phrase was used even before that for the French “World Music Day”, although the debate ultimately is an offshoot of Edward Said’s concepts of “othering” and Orientalism. For further reading, take a look at the 1999 editorial “I Hate World Music” here by some guy named David Byrne, and Gilberto Gil’s piece “The Music of the World is Bigger than World Music” here.

Sara Tavares and her band took to the stage on 9/26 at the Blender Theater (formerly the Gramercy), presented by S.O.B.’s. Although Tavares’ performance and charisma were stunning, she spent a good part of the show trying to get the audience as pumped about the music as she was. The very real culture clash in the room was made apparent when Sara took a poll of Portuguese speakers (who cheered and sang in response) and English speakers (who politely raised their hands). Awkward. It was almost more awkward when everyone clapped along to the music. Again, while the Portuguese-speaking segment of the audience clapped along with the music’s very precise (though not very difficult) drum patterns, the English-speaking segment couldn’t keep up and reverted to the very normal 4-to-the-bar pattern.

Cape Verde’s musical legacy is maintained largely by the island’s expatriate community (which is bigger than the population of the islands). It also shares its culture with the parts of West and Southern Africa, Europe, and South America due to their common language and history of Portuguese colonialism. Sara herself was born in Portugal. Of the other band members, only the guitar player, singer/songwriter Boy Ge Mendes, was born in Cape Verde proper, “Even though,” Sara beamed, “…he looks like a white guy.” Although her songs have an easy-going disposition the band members adhered rigorously to their parts until the encore, when bass player Fernando Embalo jammed through a brief samba-style bass solo and the drummer n’Du injected some polyrhythms from his native Angola. Sara Tavares’ latest release is Balancé on Times Square Records.

Caught Sheila Chandra’s New York debut the other night at the lovely Joe’s Pub. Love that room. Anyway, there’s been a lot of speculation about whether she’d fried her voice singing in the way she does (both quiet and intense), which put undue stress on the vocal chords. I’m no doctor but the results were typically steller regardless of how it worked. So she drops out for a while and then I noticed she was doing a WOMAD a while ago and I began to hope that I’d finally get my chance after interviewing her back in 2000. In that interview she talked of different vocal traditions beyond her Indian music and that talk now bears itself out in songs that will be her next record. (Yep, she said from stage there would be a record soon.) Interestingly, she mixed European folk songs, European choral traditions (one song was in partially in Latin) and I believe there was an Irish jig thrown in for good measure. Not what I expected, but her worldclass voice transcended the root material to make it seem very natural. Irish and Chinese music can sound alike at times, and now I’m hearing a connection between Irish and Indian styles. All this and she was up there alone singing a capella or accompanied by prerecorded drones. Very cool stuff. TH