Seeking the Sacred in Fes: Part One
For the past couple of days I've been in Morocco for the Fes Festival of World Sacred Music. The thirteenth edition of the festival is once again "presented under the high patronage of his majesty King Mohammed VI," and I'm part of a press junket that is also appreciating his patronage. The week-long event's "sacred" aspect is interpreted loosely. Some of the music heard during the fest's three or four daily concerts is religious, certainly, but much is more generally spiritual, or simply spirited.
This would apply especially to acts such as Angelique Kidjo, who was born in the West African nation of Benin and now lives in Brooklyn. She performed her energetic afropop in the Bab Makina palace courtyard to an upscale crowd that embraced her as an African sister. Kidjo was in a loquacious mood, too. "People talk about the new global community," she said in French. "But is it possible to keep your own culture and identity in such a world? I don't have the answer. I simply pose the question." She delivered something of an answer, though, in the music she performed from her new album, Djin Djin, a rooted yet cosmpolitan call for a return to African culture. Much of the audience joined her onstage for one of her final songs, "Ae Ae," which suggests that young Africans shouldn't be forced to move abroad in order to improve their lives.
Kidjo's query is at the heart of this festival, which was established following the first Gulf War as a means to reconcile the Christian, Jewish, and Muslim worlds. And it would be hard to find a better crash course in many of the more important Islamic musical styles. Festival organizers wisely program nightly free concerts in the immense square near Bab Baoujlud, the great gate that serves as main entrance to Fes al Bali, the Arab world's largest functioning medieval city. These concerts seem to take their energy from the medina and draw audiences that would not otherwise be able to afford this music.
Wednesday night's Bab Boujloud act was the Akhtar Sharif Arup Vale. This Pakistan qawwali ensemble features the wildly soaring vocal style, accompanied by handclaps and harmoniums, made famous by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Last night's performers consisted of three great female singers, Tunisia's Sonia Mbarak, Algeria's Beidhja Rahal, and Morocco's own Fadwa el Malki, all accompanied by the Fes Orchestra. The three vocal styles may have been quite different, but they all obviously came from the same place musically.
Sufi Nights, another remarkable festival tradition, feature a different aspect of the Muslim sect each evening at 11 in the Dar Tazi courtyard garden. Wednesday's Chekouriya ensemble, from northwest Morocco, consisted of thirteen singers, arranged in a horseshoe shape, whose mesmerizing, droning songs were accompanied by a single bass drum. But last night the gnawa ensemble Ouled Kamar (AKA the Sons of the Moon, Keepers of the Invisible Sacred Music) was an eighteen-strong mass of kinetic energy that had the crowd in a near-frenzy at times and sent at least one woman into a full-on trance state.
Afternoon concerts are held beneath a giant oak tree in the serene and beautiful garden of the city's Batha Museum. Singing birds accompany all performers at this location, and yesterday their featured guests were the Piñana brothers' flamenco trio and Diapason, a Cuban string quintet. The two groups performed singer Curro Piñana and guitarist Carlos' flamenco mass. Diapason added subtle Cuban rhythmic accents to Curro Piñana's passionate evocations of the Christian liturgy. It was sacred, spiritual, and spirited all at once.