Sunday, May 20th, the Lisa Cooley gallery saw an unusual sight- cassette tapes.

Brooklyn’s Brian Shimkovitz, author of popular blog Awesome Tapes from Africa, brought his collection of rare African tapes from across the continent to the intimate Lower East Side venue.

In between mounted pieces by Michael Bauer, Shimkovitz took us on an audio journey across Zimbabwe, Ethiopia and Senegal.

The early crowd gathered a bit back from the DJ table, taking in the surroundings, the percussive, uplifting beats and the stack of over a hundred tapes incased within colorful jackets.

From Matthew: “The blog is meant to shed light on stuff that isn’t covered by the excellent funk and afro-rock and afro-psychedelic releases that have been coming out, as well as what’s typically available at Amazon. I feel like there’s so much crazy fascinating stuff out there that people could get into.”

View more from Awesome Tapes from Africa here, and visit lisa-cooley.com for more info on upcoming exhibits.

He was quite a striking figure with his very long dread locks and colored clothes, which he wears both as a reflexion of his religious beliefs. He is a member of the Baye Fall, a specifically Senegalese form of Islam and part of the larger Islamic brotherhood of Mouridism.

In his own words: ” In Baye Fall, we have something called a jarasse. It’s the multi-colored clothes that I wear most of the time. And the music on my album, Jamm is a kind of jarasse because it has many colors. If you unite this patchwork of colors, what do you get? You get harmony, and harmony is life.  Musically, I’m very open to new ideas, new colors. That’s the source of the variety in my music. “

On this journey that I have undertaken with the African continent, I find myself opening doors and encountering worlds heretofore unbeknownst to me. I discover histories, talents, personal journeys that move me profoundly and speak loudly and persistently of the limitless courage, rich talents, and absolute dedication of many Africans striving to have their own voice heard and effect change in their world and beyond.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-VrfadKbco

The South African singer Miriam Makeba (1932-2008) is one of those gorgeous voices that enthralled the world during the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s. Her songs like “Pata Pata” and Maleika are part of our collective memory. She was the first artist from Africa to popularize African music in the U.S and around the world. However, it is the story of her life in exile because she was an outspoken critic of apartheid politics and defender of civil rights that moved me deeply.

Mama Africa, a documentary of her life by Mika Kaurismaki can be seen at the Festival of African Film, which is being held at the Walter Read Theater at Lincoln Center. Her success and fame as a singer brought her great joy but it came at a price. She sang of her life and of her people in South Africa and her songs came to be seen as political. A successful recording artist by her mid twenties she was eager to leave South Africa to expand her career. Little did she know that her passport would not be renewed and that she would eventually be forbidden from coming back to South Africa.  Soon discovered by Harry Belafonte she settled in the US where she became a great hit. Her deep, rich, and powerful voice, her songs, which fused African traditional rhythms and jazz, her charm and manner made her an instant favorite of the American public.

However, two events would change the course of her life and confirm her exile status.  In 1962 she testified against apartheid at the United Nations, which led to her official excommunication by the South African government. I was mesmerized by her gentle voice as she spoke in front of all the delegates and deeply moved by her courage. A few years later she married Stokely Carmichael, the Black Panther leader and by 1968 they had to both leave the US. Stokely was seen as a serious threat by the US government during the Civil Rights movement. They settled in Guinea, West Africa – they divorced eventually – and she continued to perform in Africa, Europe and Asia but not in the US. She was allowed to return to South Africa after Nelson Mandela was elected. She died performing on stage in 2008! Not being able to come back for so many years was a great sadness which she expressed in her songs.

Tinariwen are a band of Touareg-Berber musicians from the Sahara desert region of Northern Mali. They have performed internationally and their fifth album Tassili won the Award for Best World Music Album in 2011. It was recorded in the rocky desert as you can see in the video.  Tinariwen share their perspective on the events in Northern Mali and offer an alternative perspective. Make sure to read the post and the following comments which provides further insights on the issues.

Tinariwen-speaks-out-on-the-coup-in-mali

I am adding a little music to the mix; after all music is central to the life of many Africans.  It is  very much part of my experience in Africa whether I am walking in the bush with Samburu tribesmen who spontaneously start singing while walking, watching the Dama Dance in Dogon country, sitting in a bar in Bamako, or just lounging in my apartment in New York listening to an amazing selection of African music put together by a passionate collector of hundreds of African songs. In the spirit of my previous post which speaks of a Dogon traditional performance I am posting traditional African Rhythms from Camaroon. Drums or calabashes, as in the video below, as well as rattles, and xylophones are some of the main instruments. Repetitiveness is definitely a striking aspect of this music which puts one in almost trance like state.

Stay tuned for regular weekly music postings. If you have additional suggestions, they are welcome!

In October 2011, as part of the White Light Festival,  Peter Sellars’ Desdemona showed at The Rose Theater at Lincoln Center. The show, written by the acclaimed author Toni Morrison, tells the story of Othello’s characters—particularly Desdemona and her African maid Barbary—reuniting after death.

I was intrigued by the performance; I have often wondered what happens to our literary heroes after they are gone. In Shakespeare’s Othello, the main character kills himself after murdering his lover Desdemona. So what was it like for the spouses to meet after death?

The reviews introduce Desdemona as a play, though when I spoke to Morrison she insisted, “there’s nothing theatrical about it.” Instead, “Desdemona” is a poetic conversation, half sung in Malian by the African singer Rokia Traoré, who interprets the old servant Barbary, and half recounted by Tina Benko who portrays both Desdemona and the Moor. Rokia Traore’s voice is accompanied by two male musicians, one on a tom-tom and the other on the guitar.  The beat is similar to reggae: slow and repetitive.

Peter Sellars creates a minimalist scenery; the two women, barefoot and dressed in white, sat amidst glass bottles and floating light bulbs. They remained close to the floor throughout the entire length of the show, leaving most of the stage empty.  A sense of intimacy and closeness is achieved by this restrictive use of space.  I felt as if I was both part of the women’s reunion, because they seemed so approachable and inclusive, and yet I also felt kept at a distance and reminded of my place as a spectator. Indeed, the slow and monotonous tone of their exchange at times gave me the impression I was listening in on a heart-to-heart. The performance catches their conversation mid way, which makes it difficult to understand at first.  However, after a few minutes, Desdemona retells the story of herself and Othello, which bring us back into the loop.

The show is about the reunion of two cultures after they have been freed from social expectations by death. Indeed, in Shakespeare’s Othello there is a clear separation between white and black but the divide remains implicit. Racism is a given but it is never discussed openly. In Morrison’s version though, the ones who have been persecuted, especially Barbary, are able to stand up for themselves. During the conversation between the two women, Desdemona calls her maid ” her oldest friend.” After a short silence, Barbary corrects her and coldly replies,”I was your slave.” Most of Sellars’ show is about redefining misunderstandings and about Africa finding its voice. Yet, though the continent comes off as strong and independent, it also has its flaws. Othello represents the violent side of Africa. When Benko portrays him, her voice deepens and her tone becomes aggressive. She brings forth his violent nature, which is even more noticeable in contrast to the women’s poise.  While in the Elizabethan play the Moor nearly looses his noble reputation after killing his lover, in Morrison’s version there is the possibility of redemption.

The actresses’ words unravel as elegant prose, a fusion of imagery and truth, which we are invited to read on the screen behind them. After the show I heard members of the audience mistaking Morrison’s text for Shakespeare’s, and though Morrison assures us she was “not competing against” the playwright, the confusion is understandable. Her narrative creates a delicate universe. It reflects on love and pays homage to death through the mournful Willow Song, which concludes the performance. Though the play lingers a bit and the rhythm becomes repetitive, the poetic quality of the exchange and the intimate songs brought me into a trance that lingered after the show was over.

“I am writing for the blog Happening Africa,” I told Mrs. Morrison when I introduced myself to talk to her for this review. “Happening Africa?” She replied, “You’ll like the show, then.”