Banned! Tracing the Journey of a Lili Labassi Disc from Release to Censorship in the late 1930s

As the third night of Hanukkah approaches, I bring you one of my favorite records from Algeria (a disc which happened to enjoy a tremendous amount of success in Morocco - as you'll soon see).

We begin again with a question and a mystery. Did Lili Labassi, among the most popular of interwar Algerian recording stars, sing clandestinely about Moroccan political exile Allal El Fassi on his now difficult to find “Lellah yal ghadi lessahra” (O you, who is going to the Sahara)? According to French colonial authorities in late 1930s and early 1940s Morocco, he most certainly did. As a result, his Polyphon disc (issue number 46.117) was subjected to repeated ban throughout the Cherifian Empire in 1938, 1939, and 1940. To the French, his lyrics read as nothing less than subversive…and served as nothing less than a reminder to Moroccans to keep Allal El Fassi in their hearts. He was after, “still alive” (mazal hay mazal):

“O you who is going to the land of the gazelles!

If you find my love (ghazal/gazelle)

Tell him: He’s.. he’s still alive (mazal hay mazal)

No one can replace him in my heart…”

Lili Labassi re-release on Philips

But to most Moroccans at the time, the ambiguous “he” was heard as “she” - as is common in much of North African music (think: male singers longing for their habibi and not habibti). Thus, “he’s still alive,” was understood as “she’s still alive” (mazal hay mazal) and no one could replace “her in my heart.” In fact, in the massive search and seizure efforts undertaken by the French to find the Labassi disc, police discovered the record time and again in the brothels of cities like Casablanca, Rabat, Fez, Meknes, and Agadir. Why? Because Labassi’s “O you who is going to the Sahara,” was a love song (and seemingly a song to make love to as well).

Almost eighty years since its first ban, Labassi’s original is hard to come by. Despite the fact that it was released again on Polydor/Polyphon and also on Phillips, few copies remain. What we do have, however, is a version of “O you who is going to the Sahara” recorded by the inimitable Blond Blond, Lili Labassi’s musical disciple, which as you’ll hear, is fantastic, pulsing, and damn-near danceable.

One question remains, of course. Did Lili Labassi know that any of this was happening? Well, take a listen to his similar “Mazal haï mazal” (She’s still alive), released on the Pacific label in the 1950s and recently uploaded by Jon Ward on Excavated Shellac. Mazal haï mazal contains many of the same elements of “Lellah yal ghadi lessahra” although this version seems to lay any fears of political subversion to rest.

What is clear, however, is that Labassi’s song, first released in the mid-1930s, retained its popularity through the 1950s and some might argue until today.

Blond Blond performs Lellah yal ghadi lessahra live. Note: song is listed as "mazal hay mazal."

The Algerian Jewish Soundscape

Bootleg Salim Halali LP found in Algiers.

Algeria’s Jewish past is often framed as one of contemporary invisibility. Jews are gone, synagogues have been converted into mosques, and still other visual markers of Jewish life all but effaced. Indeed, all of this is true. But since arriving in Algeria two weeks ago to do research on the North African music industry of the first half of the twentieth century I have wondered the following: What happens when we shift our focus to that of the aural? In other words, are Algerian Jews more present in the present if we replace vision for sound and the landscape for the soundscape? The answer, in short, is a resounding, “yes.”

Discussing the Algerian 78 era over coffee.

If one listens close enough, Jewish voices are everywhere in Algeria. One must only enter one of the myriad CD shops to catch the sounds of popular Jewish recording artists from more than half a century ago like Lili Boniche. Peek your head into a bric-a-brac shop in Oued Kniss and you will find a dust covered pile of records including the likes of Salim Halali and Lili Labassi. Catch an Andalusian performance at the National Theater (named for Mahieddine Bachetarzi, himself closely identified with Algerian Jewish musical impresarios of the past like Edmond Nathan Yafil) and you will hear a piece of the classical suite - and now an inextricable part of Algerian patrimony - once closely associated with Jewish legends like Mouzino and Sassi. Meet with an octogenarian musician and wait just seconds before he regales you with tales of Alice Fitoussi and la belle époque of Algerian music. Tell just about any Algerian, young or old, about your research subject in the broadest of terms and wait for them to interject with, “Ah! Then you must study the Jews.”

There is much more to say but I am still very much processing it all. My daily strolls through the casbah, that shockingly compact musical incubator which once nurtured the high point of Jewish-Muslim music making, helps tremendously. So too does listening to the music again and again. Shortly before leaving for Algeria, I put together an all-45 rpm mix for Afropop Worldwide which serves as both a primer and a testament to the outsized role played by the country’s Jewish musicians in the first two-thirds of the twentieth century.

Disco Maghreb. What else?

Here is what I wrote for their website: “In an era immediately before chaabi and preceding raï by some decades, multi-talented artists like Lili Labassi pushed the boundaries of Algerian Arabic music in new, exciting directions while laying down 78 rpm record after 78 rpm record for Columbia, Polydor, and even RCA. Later, Lili Boniche and Luc Cherki, the so-called “crooners of the casbah,” blended Western and North African rhythms to produce hits like the former’s “Ya Samira,” included here. Over the next hour you will hear a sampling of all of this and more. We start with Salim Halali and his iconic cover of the Moroccan Sidi Hbibi before moving on to a Luc Cherki istikhbar and disco number and eventually to a trio of pieces performed by Blond Blond, Lili Labassi, and the Algéroise diva Line Monty dedicated to a love of city (Oran and Algiers) and nation (Djazaïr). René Perez and Lili Boniche round out this mix before we arrive at the rarest piece in this collection: the Andalusian piano stylings of the one and only Sariza Cohen.”

Playlist

Salim Halali - Layali Maghrib / Salim Halali - Sidi H’bibi / Luc Cherki - Stekhbar Sahli / Luc Cherki - Oumparéré / Blond Blond - El Porompompero / Blond Blond - Wahran El Behya / Lili Labassi - Ouaharan El Bhya / Lili Labassi - Edzayer Zint Elbouldan / Leïla Fateh (Line Monty) - Alger Alger / René Perez - Elli Mektoub Mektoub / Lili Boniche - Elli Mektoub Mektoub / Lili Boniche - Ya Samira / Sariza Cohen - Variations sur Touchia Dhil

More to come when I return but in the meantime pour yourself a Phénix or an Orangina (both of Algerian origin) and enjoy the music. Saha!

El Gusto, Algerian Jewish Mothers, and Luc Cherki

Just a few weeks ago I moved from New York to Los Angeles. This relocation was part of a long journey home for me. It began in the south of France, took me to Morocco, afforded me a short stop in Israel, and cut through New York before dropping me in California. Over the next few posts I will attempt to capture the most salient memories and observations from my travels. Along the way I’ll be digitizing some of the most interesting pieces of music I collected.

Moroccan and Algerian Jewish records in Marseille.

A Note on Putting this Post Together
As I was putting the finishing touches on this post I found myself racing against time. I started writing this last Thursday shortly before I was to head to the airport for a quick trip back to New York. I had wanted to digitize a piece of music to go along with it but since everything was literally in boxes I had almost no idea where anything was. By chance I opened a closet door where I was storing clothing and some 45s. Staring back at me was a near mint Luc Cherki record I had nearly forgotten about. Suddenly, everything came into focus. I recalled a short conversation I had with the Algerian vocalist and guitarist over the summer. I had told him I was a fan and a collector. He told me (with his characteristic smile) that he longer had any of his own records (not at all uncommon). All of this crystallized for me as time was running out before my flight. I was inspired. I started (gently) tearing open boxes and soon found my record player and the necessary cables for digitization. The platter on the record player had barely stopped spinning before I ran out the door for LAX.

South of France: From Marseille to Sète
As some of you read in my last post, I spent two weeks over the summer seeking out remnants of the once vibrant North African music scene in Marseille. While there I not only had the good fortune of finding physical records and cassettes but also passionate individuals chronicling the local incarnation of this transnational musical saga. Along the way I rediscovered tantalizing hints of how this story plays out spatially through various artifacts like a stamped label with the former address of the Algerian Cheikh Zekri’s music club.

Cheikh Zekri's old stomping grounds in Marseille. Stamped on back of LP.

While in France, I had the tremendous opportunity to see live music as well. Thanks to the kindness of Safinez and Nabila I met with members of the recently reconstituted 1950s-era Algerian chaabi orchestra El Gusto. I was privileged to have ftour (Ramadan break-fast meal) with these master musicians and glean hidden nuggets of music history from the likes of Algerian pianist Maurice El Medioni through informal interviews backstage. The concert itself, in an amphitheater on the water in beautiful Sète (also interestingly a ferry point for North Africa), was electric. A couple observations from the concert before I jump to our artist of interest.

• Throughout the concert, Abdelmajid Meksoud referred to Maurice El Medioni as Cheikh.
• The set list included a majority of songs popularized or written by Algerian Jews including Mchate Aaliya (Lili Boniche), Alger Alger (Line Monty-Maurice El Medioni), and one of my favorites - Ghir Ajini Ajini (Lili Labassi).

I’m including a short clip I shot with my phone (so please forgive the quality) of El Gusto performing Ghir Ajini Ajini. I’m pairing it with Toukadime’s recent upload of Lili Labassi’s Ghir Ajini Ajini original for RCA (Yes, the Recording Corporation of America was recording North African Jewish musicians as well).

El Gusto performs Lili Labassi's Ghir Ajini Ajini in August 2012.

Lili Labassi's original Ghir Ajini Ajini for RCA.

Monsieur Luc Cherki
In the lead up to the concert I chatted with Luc (sometimes Lili) Cherki, a musician who had long been a curiosity of mine but whom I had never written about. Luc was born on August 8, 1936 and spent his formative years in Algiers, Algeria. He came of musical age in the 1950s at a time when chaabi music across the Maghreb was on the ascent. What made him special (in part) was that he could not only jam on the guitar in a number of styles but could also sing distinctively in Arabic, French, and Hebrew. As the end of the decade approached, his identity as an Algerian Jew of French citizenship became increasingly complex. Like most of his fellow coreligionists Luc Cherki left Algeria for France by 1962 and has never returned. He increasingly sang in French and became associated musically and politically with his French hit Je Suis Pied Noir.

Luc Cherki's Je Suis Pied Noir.

Luc Cherki recorded for a variety of labels in France including Kahlaoui's Dounia. His Arabic music was often forgotten as the years wore on and by the end of the 1980s he seemed to distance himself from music all together. He took a nearly 15 year musical break before returning to the performing stage in the 2000s and now tours with El Gusto.

Luc Cherki. L'Mouèma. Dounia. 1970s.

L’Mouèma

Yes, I'm posting a song about a Jewish mother, an Algerian Jewish mother to be exact. L’mouèma is the affectionate word for mom in darija, North African Arabic. The album artwork from this 1970s Luc Cherki release features a dedication to children deprived of their mothers' love. When I asked my friend Jawad (check out his Juifs Berberes photo blog) for some help with the lyrics, he concurred that the song was written about a mother but he offered another explanation. L’mouèma can also stand in for the motherland, he said. In other words, it's possible that Luc Cherki is singing here about his longing for Algeria. The song begins with, "separation is worse than death." Take a listen. I hear hints of Cheikh Zouzou's Bensoussan here in the music. The theme of exile, estrangement is ominpresent. What I also find fascinating about this song (and really El Gusto as a concept) is how much it complicates the narrative. Cheers.

Show this Saturday at JCC + Cheikh Mwijo, Lili L'abassi & Shimon Bar Yohai

Come listen to Cheikh Mwijo and others this Sat., May 26th at JCC Manhattan

I'll be spinning rare North African records this Saturday night, May 26th for a set called Sheikh it, Baby! Arabic Music, Jewish Musicians. The set is part of the wonderful Tikkun Leil Shavuot program at the JCC Manhattan. I go on at 12.30 am (technically May 27th) in the 4th floor studio. I'm adding some recent killer finds to the playlist, so bring a friend and come check it out. The full schedule of events can be found here.

Judeo-Arabic song verse in praise of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai
Composed by Albert Suissa and printed in Casablanca (1950s)

Tikkun Leil Shavuot in its current form is a modern twist on an ancient tradition. Shavuot marks the anniversary of the Israelites receiving the Torah from God. One tradition relates that the Israelites prayed and studied for three days and nights in anticipation of receiving the Torah and so, we emulate this all-night regiment to remember and recreate this sacred study session.

Shavuot (meaning weeks in Hebrew) comes seven weeks after Passover. If you've been following the news or my Twitter feed (www.twitter.com/jewishmorocco) lately, you may have noticed an uptick in Jewish pilgrimages (hilloulot in Hebrew) over the last couple weeks in Morocco and Tunisia. These pilgrimages to Rabbi's tombs usually fall on or right around Lag B'Omer, a holiday that occurs 33 days after Passover and which marks the anniversary of the death of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai, a 2nd century Rabbi and disciple of the famed Rabbi Akiva. According to lore, Lag B'Omer is also the date that Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai revealed the Zohar, the foundational text of Kabbalah.

Now the tie-in for all of this is something I've written about before and that is the fascinating convergence of the sacred and secular in North African Jewish music. For example, the melody for Samy Elmaghribi's scandalously secular Kaftanek Mahloul (Blond Blond performs it here) was quickly incorporated into liturgical poetry for the synagogue in 1950s Morocco and beyond (Binyamin Bouzaglo performs El Hay Ram Gadol to the tune of Kaftanek Mahloul here).

I recently discovered another track that made the transition from secular to sacred. Lili L’abassi was born Elie Moyal in Sidi Bel Abbas, Algeria in or around 1909. By his early 20s, he was already being referred to as Cheikh for his mastery of the violin and Arabic song. His popularity rose steadily in the 1930s and 1940s and he can be thought of as the Jewish Hadj Mohammed El Anka in terms of popularizing chaabi music. One of his most popular songs is Wahran El Bahia (Oran the Brilliant/Shining/Beautiful) and is an ode to the city that has produced some of Algeria's greatest musicians, past and present. Wahran El Bahia has become the unofficial anthem of Oran and continues to be sung to this day.

Below is a clip of the song being performed by El Gusto, a Jewish and Muslim orchestra originally formed in Algeria in the 1950s and recently reunited. The musicians of El Gusto, now in their 70s through 90s, had lost touch post-Algerian independence and were brought together over the last few years thanks to the efforts of the filmmaker Safinez Bousbia, who captured this story in her compelling documentary. Make sure you see this film El Gusto, if you haven't already.

Pay close attention to the very animated violinist and singer in this El Gusto concert recording because it is none other than Robert Castel, son of the great Lili L'abassi. To the right, you can also make out Luc (or Lili) Cherki. Play the song in its entirety once or twice, so you get a real feel for the melody.

Check out this 1970s recording by Cheikh Mwijo in Israel. It's called Meron El Bahiya and is a pretty amazing piece about Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai. Mt. Meron (in Israel) is the pilgrimage site for the Lag B'Omer holiday and the burial place of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai. Lag B'Omer and Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai have long been popular song topics for Jewish North African recording artists. One of my most interesting 78s, for example, is a 1950s recording of a Lag B'Omer hilloula in Tlemcen, Algeria. Now take a close listen to the Cheikh Mwijo song below. This is the same melody and refrain as Lili L'abassi's Wahran El Bahiya but with Meron swapped for Oran! The sacred has again adopted the secular.


While you're pondering all of this, I'm going to give another shoutout to my twitter feed and mention that you can like this blog on Facebook (www.facebook.com/jewishmorocco). I'll be posting some exciting news soon...so keep an eye out.