Singer and percussionist Aziza Brahim belongs to the Sahrawi people of the Western Sahara, though for more than two decades she’s lived in exile. The recordings she’s released since 2008 have deftly blended the desert blues of her Saharan background with elements of contemporary rock and Spanish influences as she’s served as a spokesperson for her people in the face of ongoing oppression. Brahim’s new album and second for Glitterbeat is Abbar el Hamada; it wields bright performances and on one tune welcomes the electric guitar of Samba Touré. It’s out March 4 on compact disc, digital, and 180gm vinyl.
Aziza Brahim’s profile has risen steadily over the last decade, but she’s been active for considerably longer; in 1995, shortly after returning to the Sahrawi refugee camps to begin her musical career following years of study in Cuba, she won the 1st National Song Contest of the National Culture Festival as sponsored by the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic.
A whole lot of activity has taken place since, including touring with the Sahrawi group Leyoad, and although she’s returned home on numerous occasions, Brahim has lived in Barcelona from 2000; subsequently, she collaborated with the Spanish outfit Yayabo in ’05 and two years later formed the Sahrawi/Spanish group Gulili Mankoo.
The “Mi Canto” EP emerged in 2008 via the Reaktion label, its five selections utilizing guitar, percussion and voice to agreeably interweave roots potency with aspects of melodicism, particularly on the gorgeously catchy “Alli Nahuah.” There are also rock trappings, notably in the plugged-in solos of the title cut and the psychedelic opening to “Hijo de las nubes.”
In 2010 the “Mi Canto” track “Regreso” appeared on Listen to the Banned, a compilation album dedicated to the music of banned, censored, and imprisoned artists from the Middle East, Africa, and Asia, and the next year Brahim composed, produced and performed the soundtrack to Wilaya, additionally making her acting debut in the award-winning Pedro Pérez Rosado-directed film.
Her full-length Mabruk, also issued through Reaktion, arrived in 2012 and extended her association with Gulili Mankoo; its follow-up Soutak appeared in 2014 and was her first for Glitterbeat, the busy global subsidiary of the German label Glitterhouse. In contrast to Mabruk’s intermittently large rock gestures, Soutak has been described as an acoustic record, and one focusing more on Brahim’s adept vocalizing and the messages attached.
Abbar el Hamada keeps the spotlight on singing and lyrics without pushing the music into the backseat, opener “Buscando la Paz” retaining Brahim’s essential structural triangle of voice, rhythm, and guitar through robust lead-backing vocal exchanges, complex and driving percussion, and a fruitful mingling of Spanish and clean-plucked electric tones.
Amplification has indeed returned, but partly through the retention of multi-instrumentalist Guillen Aguilar, guitarist Kalilou Sangare, backing vocalist Badra Abdallahi (Brahim’s sister), and producer/Glitterbeat honcho Chris Eckman, the LP registers as an outgrowth of Soutak, though aspects of Mabruk certainly do resurface; however, the most immediate characteristic newcomers might observe is its vibrant recording quality, and approach firmly planting Abbar el Hamada in a contemporary context instead of embodying a niche throwback angle.
Some may find the boldness off-putting, but it expands naturally from her prior output and can be aptly assessed as vivid rather than smooth as it magnifies the singing and instrumentation. Ultimately the production enlivens the hard-driving rock-tinged climate, sharp riffs, and searching yet economical soloing of “Calles de Dajla.”
Economy is also a shaping facet on Brahim’s latest. Overall nothing lingers too long as a few numbers including “Calles de Dajla” could surely be lengthened in a live situation; Tamikrest fans take note. But Abbar el Hamada has range on its side, “El canto de la arena” slowing down, stretching things out somewhat, and combining a roots vibe (abetted by the slightly tropical air of guest Xavi Lozano’s flute and mohoceño) with a classic vocal pop sensibility.
“El wad” continues to underscore Brahim’s prowess at the microphone as Eckman’s organ adds subtle flavor and the crispness of the guitar provides assured counterpoint to her voice. As on past albums the leader contributes instrumentally on Tabal drum, and the rhythmic weave and concise solo segment of “La cordillera negra” delivers a highlight.
It’s followed by the title cut, a nimble mix of folky songwriting and glistening ambiance enhanced by instrumental proficiency easily the equal of any big label-funded studio band; where “Abbar el Hamada” excels is in its lack of flash (especially impressive is the tastefulness of the bass), and as said the production avoids faltering into the gratuitously slick.
“Baraka” picks up the pace as its rocking groove bookends well with “Calles de Dajla,” and while it’s largely an instrumental showcase Brahim’s voice elevates the track quite nicely. She takes to the foreground during the slower thump of “Mani” as Samba Touré lends bluesy support. Led by snaky guitar patterns and urgent but unflustered singing, “Intifada” offers all the ingredients in fine balance.
The title of closer “Los muros” translates to “The Walls,” its lyrics referencing the sand barriers Morocco has built on the Western Saharan border to keep the Sahrawi from returning to their homeland. On one hand it’s a specific allusion, though only moderate cognizance of US current events is required to locate a commonality.
In purely musical terms, Aziza Brahim’s strong suit throughout Abbar el Hamada derives from an evolving stylistic hybridization that never succumbs to the forced or facile, the whole of the LP inviting widespread listenership but consistently evading the timid. She fits well into Glitterbeat’s roster and based on this set seems poised for further progress.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
