New York Music Daily

No New Abnormal

Tag: 47soul

47soul Bring Delirious Dance Grooves and Sharp Political Relevance to Lincoln Center

In keeping with this month’s Halloween theme, there is a contingent here in the US that doesn’t want groups like exhilarating Palestinian hip-hop band 47soul here. But Lincoln Center is home to every New York community, as impresario Jordana Leigh reminded last night. A big crowd drawing heavily on Arabic-speaking young people from across the diaspora watched raptly, everybody with their phones out, a circle of dancers dipping and shimmying in front of the stage.

The quartet’s Arabic lyrics are excellent, drawing on centuries of allusive, symbolically loaded antiauthoritarian tradition. Graffiti artists vault border walls and random travelers get caught in police headlights, Fences, roadblocks and surveillance are everywhere. There was a line in one of their opening numbers, Mo Light, that translated as “If I could buy my home, I’d do that.” No wonder their music is so restless. Even the most lighthearted tunes, like Move Around, have double entendres: Palestinians are no strangers to relocation, voluntarily or via Naqba.

With electric guitar, electronic and organic percussion and swirling, keening mini-synth, their music can be as enveloping and atmospheric as it is propulsive They opened with a vampy two-chord quasi-reggae number, echoed a little later by a reggaeton-influenced detour into trip-hop. They didn’t even bother to change chords for the hypnotically majestic song in between, the thump of the standup tapan drum underneath looming minor-key string synth ambience.

They really hit their stride and got the guys in the crowd triwrling their keffiyehs with a thumping, syncopated dabke groove, the microtones of the synth shivering over the thump of the tapan and the syndrums, the guitar running  through the kind of warpy tone-bending patch that Mary Halvorson uses a lot. Everybody knew the big dabke anthem after that, jumping around defiantly as the big choruc kicked in.

“Sold out by the left, right when you left, why, you’re not filming?” was the most telling line in the slow, ominously emphatic Machina, a searingly imagistic account of life under an occupation, from the band’s latest album Balfron Promise. After that, they went back to the slinky, pulsing minor-key dabke, dipping back and forth between a watery vortex of sound. Everybody in the group – synth player Z the People, guitarist El Jehaz, drummers Walaa Sbait and Tareq Abu Kwaik all contribute vocals, even when they’re playing pretty complicated stuff.

Ther was some turnover in the crowd before Afrotronix, all the way from Chad via Montreal, followed with a cantering electroacoustic performance. Interestingly, almost all of their beats were organic, the group’s guitarist nimbly building live loops and pulling samples from a laptop to energize the people on the floor while the group’s dancer got a shiveringly intense workout at the front of the stage.

The next nation represented in the ongoing mostly-weekly series of free concerts at the Lincoln Center atrium space on Broadway north of 62nd St. is Cuba. Chanteuse Melvis Santa and her band are on the billlnext Thurs,, Oct 10 at 7:30 PM  These shows are very popular, so get there early if you’re going.

Underground System Bring Their Trippy Afrobeat and Dancefloor Sounds to Two Hometown Gigs

Underground System are one of New York’s funnest party bands. They blend original Afrobeat jams with hard funk and psychedelia along with tinges of tropical and Mediterranean sounds. Charismatic frontwoman Domenica Fossati adds flute and percussion to the mix, and her allusive lyrics often tackle important sociopolitical issues. The band’s debut full-length album What Are You is streaming at Bandcamp; They’re at Bric Arts on March 7 at 8 PM, opening for mesmerizing Palestinian hip-hop/dancehall reggae/habibi pop band 47soul; advance tix are $15 and available at the front desk for those who want to avoid service charges. Underground System are also at C’Mon Everybody on March 22 at 11 for five bucks less.

The album’s opening number, Three’s a Charm has a loping goove, Peter Matson building contrasting layers of gritty guitar and sleek synth over a loopy, punchy backdrop supplied by drummer Yoshio Kobayashi and bassist Jonathan Granoff. They follow a brief, swirly flute-and-synth intro into Go, a hypnotic escape anthem for the dancefloor

As she does in many of her songs, Fossati codeswitches between Spanish and English in the sarcastic, confrontational Rent Party, Maria Eisen tossing in some extra spice with her baritone sax over a catchy, psychedelically looping bass riff,. The album’s title track has more pillowy ambience over a stabbing Afrobeat drive, Eisen adding a sailing, echoey solo overhead.

They keep a hypnotic disco pulse going throughout Just a Place, an organic take on EDM with loopy chicken-scratch guitar and allusions to the disorienting, displacing effects of gentrification. Fossati  swittches to Italian for over a looped Afrobeat bass riff in the brief Sebben (La Lega), followed by State of Mind, a return to the gritty/slick dichotomy of the album’s opening number

If New Order had a thing for Afrobeat back in the early 80s, they would have written something  like What’s It Gonna Take. The album’s final track is Nmani, a surreal mashup of synthy laptop pop and what sounds like Congolese mbira music. If you’re in the mood for psychedelic sounds that also move your feet, or party music that entertains your brain, this is your jam.

Globalfest 2019: Esoterica Rules, Again

Special thanks to Globalfest staffer Neha Gandhi, whose quick thinking, quiet diplomacy and efforts beyond the call of duty (and complicity in trying to create a teachable moment) made it possible for this review to appear

The premise of Globalfest in its early days was to connect talent buyers with booking agents representing acts from around the world. Youtube may have rendered that innovation obsolete, but every January, both crowds get together in New York to party on the company dime….and see some great music. The public comes out too. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” draws a response of “I didn’t expect to see you either!” Friends from the swing jazz or country blues scene discover a possibly secret, shared love for middle eastern music, and so forth. In 2019, more than ever, esoterica rules.

Sets are staggered in different areas of the venue throughout the night so that everybody can get a little taste of everything. As usual, last night’s show had more flavors than Dosa Hut (in case you haven’t already been seduced by the New York area’s most ambitious purveyors of sublimely delicious, crunchy Indian wraps, you are in for a treat).

Over the last couple of years, the artists on the bill have often represented a forceful backlash against anti-immigrant stridency, and last night was no exception. Both the whirlwind Palestinian rap-rock-reggae crew 47SOUL and magical Mexican chanteuse Magos Herrera – backed by string quartet Brooklyn Rider and drummer Mathias Kunzli – articulated fierce responses against wall-building.

But that issue was just a small part of each act’s many-faceted performance. 47SOUL spoke not only for the rights of Palestinians and Syrian refugees but for full-scale global unity against encroaching tyranny, through a blend of Arabic hip-hop, surreal dub reggae and keening, synthy habibi dancefloor pop. Likewise, Herrera drew on practically a century of pan-latin balladry, protest songs, classical and indie classical music, over a backdrop that was as propulsive as it was lustrous. It’s rare to see a string quartet play with as much sheer vigor as violinists Johnny Gandelsman and Colin Jacobsen, violist Nicholas Cords and cellist Michael Nicholas.

It would have been fun to have been able to catch more of the spectacularly dynamic Debashish Bhattacharya, who alternated between rapidfire raga intensity on veena, and some unexpectedly balmy, twinkling slide guitar work in a Hawaiian slack-key interlude, joined by his similarly masterful daughter Anandi on vocals along with a first-rate tabla player.

Likewise, it was tantalizing to watch from behind the drums, relying on the monitor mix, throughout most of the night’s best-attended set, by theatrical Ukrainian band Dakh Daughters. The theatrical all-female group came across as a Slavic gothic mashup of the Dresden Dolls and Rasputina. In matching white facepaint and forest-spirit dresses, they paired ominous cellos against creepy piano chromatics and spritely flute over slow, ominous beats, switching off instruments frequently. As with so many artists whose cultures have been under attack, there’s no doubt plenty of grim subtext in their phantasmagorical narratives.

Since headliner the Mighty Sparrow had cancelled, the night’s largest ensemble were oldschool Cuban salsa band Orquesta Akokán, shifting through sparsely pummeling charanga-style passages, slinky mambos at various tempos, a lickety-split tonguetwister number and a machinegunning timbale solo that might have been the most adrenalizing moment of the entire night.

Playing solo a floor above, guitarist/banjo player Amythyst Kiah held the crowd rapt with her powerful, looming contralto vocals, her tersely slashing chops on both instruments and unselfconsciously deep insights into the melting pot of Appalachian folk music. Blending brooding, judiciously fingerpicked originals with a similarly moody choice of covers, she went as far back as 18th century Scotland – via 19th century African America – and as far forward as Dolly Parton, with equally intense results.

The evening ended with an apt choice of headliner, Combo Chimbita, who kept the remaining crowd of dancers on their feet throughout a swirling tornado of psychedelic, dub-inspired tropicalia, merengue and cumbia. Frontwoman Carolina Oliveros, a force of nature with her shamanic, hurricane-force roar and wail, circled the stage as if in a trance. Behind her, guitarist Niño Lento, bassist/keyboardist Prince of Queens and drummer Dilemastronauta built smoky ambience that rose to frenetic electric torrents and then subsided, a mighty series of waves to ride out into an increasingly chilly night.