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.”
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.
