Festival: Afrofest (Sunday)

Afrofest 2009

Queen's Park. Sunday, July 12, 2009.

After a false start¹, got to Queen's start with Menwar already on stage, and although I knew nothing about him, I was quickly entranced. He had the wiry energy of a prophet just down from the mountain (and dreads down to his knees to match) and a prophet's gravitas, but wasn't coming across as Old testament doom and gloom. Instead, on a musical bedrock of mostly percussion, he delivered lyrically somewhere between a muezzin and a reggae toaster. He employed a variety of percussion instruments, both traditional and home-made — including shakers with pistachio shells and something like a thumb piano made from a sardine tin — backed by three other percussionists. Madagascar Slim joined the crew on a couple songs. It was the first time in Canada for the Mauritian crew, and the crowd took to his material pretty enthusiastically, especially after about fifteen minutes, when he really started cooking. After the set, the merch table was doing good business with people grabbing his CD. A very pleasing introduction to this bracing, vitally driving stuff.

Listen to a track from this set here.

I'd been reading about Kemer Yousuf for a while now, especially since he made a giant splash around his triumphant return last year to Ethiopia — a country he fled as a refugee — as a bona fide pop star. I can't say I know much about Ethiopian music besides a smattering of Éthiopiques comps, which mostly represents the "golden age" of the 70's. Of the more current styles, I only know what I've heard while ordering more injera when eating out. I know that there has been, generally speaking, a shift from the ethio-jazz arrangements of the old days to more of a synth-based sound, so I was curious to see where Kemer's sound would fall. Of course, once he hit the stage, all academic questions slid away under the strength of his magnetism. Here's a guy who radiates charisma, with a big, easy smile and, at the outset, a striking getup including an all-white get-up and an ostentatious wig/head-dress.²

The set started with a tribute to Tilahun Gessesse, the recently deceased legend of Ethiopian music. Amongst his many claims to fame was that he was noted for singing both in the Amharic and Oromo languages, so respect was shown by playing the same song twice, in both languages, with Kemer taking the vocals the first time, and his backup singer (and brother?) in a different arrangement the second time through. I'm sure this was symbolic on a lot of levels beyond my ken as I know that Kemer is dedicated to Oromo language and culture.

Kemer was backed by a crack seven-piece band, with two keyb players, sax, drummer, percussionist, plus guit and bass. The sound seemed to be a bit of a middle ground between the two poles I'd been thinking about earlier, with a solid, organic groove provided by the rhythm section and accentuated by the saxophone that was offset by the modern stabs of the synthesizers. Most importantly, it was danceable stuff, and fronted by a man who had a Mr. Please Please Please level of dedication to entertaining — moving around the stage, dropping to his knees, pumping up the crowd. He was also the beneficiary of an African music practice that most local musicians covered in this blog would certainly envy: as a token of esteem, audience would hand him money — generally twenty dollar bills &mdash or, in a couple memorable instances, press the bill to his forehead, where the sweat would hold it in place while he kept singing. The second half of the hour-long set was especially cooking, as the two sets of female dancers, alternating between songs, grooved it out on stage. This guy has star power, and is definitely worth seeing live. A highlight of the festival.³

Listen to a track from this set here.

After that, had some time to wander around the grounds, which were getting increasingly crowded, and could have spent longer before coming back to the stage as, for the first time I'd seen, the soundpeople were having an awfully difficult time getting things set up correctly for Achilla Orru. Perhaps it was in part due to his unusual setup: two kalimbas, flute, trumpet, cello and violin. But even just vox and kalimba, as he started with, were causing problems, with feedback rising up from every noise. A bit unfortunate as both voice and thumb piano were wonderfully graceful-sounding instruments. With the full band, they were swathed in chamber-like arrangements. A bit rococo for my taste, and the sound was still kinda rough. When A., biking by with time to kill between Fringe shows, found me in the crowd, it seemed like an okay time to slip away and sample the eats.⁴

When I made my way back to the main stage area, I was suddenly struck by the giant crowd that had assembled. Whereas previously I'd had no problem getting right near the stage, now I was a reasonable distance back. Fortunately, I found a spot on a little rise that gave me a decent view, and stood behind someone's blanket so I didn't have anyone directly in front of me. To the bad, though, things had fallen behind, and an 8:30 start time got pushed to about ten past nine, leaving a little dead time. But that was forgotten when Oumou Sangaré hit the stage. I must confess that I had not heard of her before seeing her listed as the Afrofest headliner, despite the fact that she's an artist of enormous fame. A Malian singer in the Wassoulou tradition, Sangaré is a diva in the old-fashioned sense: larger than life, intensely magnetic, and bearing a gifted voice. Just to see her on stage gave the impression that this was a strong woman.

She was backed by seven instrumentalists and two singer/dancers. The band had a balance between western instruments (bass, guitar, drum kit) and more traditional ones (kora, djembe, African fiddle, and a variety of percussion). Over the course of her ninety-minute set, we got a range of moods and tempos, from slower, more ballad-based material to upbeat hip shakers. This audience, too, was showering its star with money, handing her no small number of twenty and fifty dollar bills, that were received with a friendly nod as a matter of course and dropped into a pile off to the back of the stage. It was pretty convincing stuff. I felt a bit exhausted by the end, but I had the sense that I saw something a far cut above the norm.

Overall, Afrofest was — as always — a very good experience. Such a relaxed vibe, and a diverse crowd, across every demographic, age, class, etc. In one sense, this is the Toronto that we like to think we live in all the time, crystallized into reality for a weekend by the music, but feeling as much like an act of citizenship as a party.

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¹ Met with A. for an early afternoon Fringe show that turned out to be incomprehensible and reach-far-outstripping-grasp — four stars, my tuckus. Walked over to Queen's Park after that, but I felt completely drained and a little grumpy at the world. So I went home for a bit, puttered around and caught the early acts on CIUT before heading back down in a much better mood.

² He'd later change into a showy black number covered with thin, looping chains as part of another tribute: "If I can't sing like Michael Jackson, I'll dress like Michael!"

³ The merch table was selling his Nabek album for $10, quite a steal. I picked it up and on subsequent investigation, found it has a bit more of a dancefloor, synth-heavy sound, but is still pretty good stuff.

⁴ Listening back to my recording of the CIUT broadcast, it indeed sounds like everything got balanced out in the latter part of the performance, so I wouldn't want what I said above to sound like a dis on any of the musicians.