Monday, 22 January 2018

Majid Bekkas Maroc Jazz Trio with guest Goran Kafjes - Essaouira - Xmas 2017

This performance was at the sane venue as Othman El Kheloufi, the magnificent Dar Souira, but was a very different music style of music, wonderful to watch and wonderful to listen to. For a moment I thought that I was back at The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival, that deep guembri call to attention, shaking through your body.

Majid Bekkas is a Gnaoua and jazz musician of great acclaim and like Othman he has an interesting background and wealth of experience. As well as being a musician, playing the guembri, banjo, oud and keyboard, he is a singer, composer and former classical guitar teacher. Also, Majid has been Co-Artistic Director of Chellah Jazz Festival in Rabat since 1996 as well as being involved in many international jazz projects and festivals. Plus, he gained a Bachelor Degree in Information Science in 1981, has been part of the civil service for a while and has held several positions in The Ministry of Culture. As I said, he's a very experienced man. Plus, he has many albums to his name. (A recent video I posted of John Knutson at Bob Music in Essaouira had one of Majid's albums playing in the background.)

Majid's style of playing reflects his love of fusing traditional Gnaoua music with Afro-American Blues and that's an exciting mix, and his fellow musicians complemented that sound.


Goran is a Swedish trumpeter, composer and producer who enjoys mixing Afrobeat, Ethio-jazz and Big Band Funk. The winner of the Nordic Music Prize and many Swedish Grammis Awards, he leads the group Subtropic Arkestra and is part of many other bands. He also runs his own record label: Headspin Recordings. That such a busy musician took the time out of his holidays to travel all the way to Essaouira to play with Majid is a testament to not only the pulling power of Majid Bekkas but also to the reputation of Essaouira as an International Centre of outstanding music.


Mohamed El Babarti
Mohamed Boufassi

We, the audience, were captivated by the beauty of the music and a standing ovation led to an encore. Pretty darn good if you ask me.


You can watch the entire Majid Bekkas concert on this video playlist, recorded by Here's the first number:

Sunday, 21 January 2018

Othman El Kheloufi at Jazz Sous L'Arganier - Essaouira - Xmas 2017

Picture the scene - we, the audience - sitting on very comfortable chairs (always a plus as far as I'm concerned) in the beautifully restored riad called Dar Souira, when Othman El Kheloufi appears on the stage with his group of musicians and the energy and enthusiasm he generates is palpable. And then they start playing jazz but not as you know it. (The short video above was actually one of the more subdued pieces.) Everyone is jiggling to the music and I'm sure we would have danced if there had been enough room.

Othman is a fascinating musician unlike any I've come across before and his decision to focus on jazz, with the saxaphone as his main instrument, is not the usual path for a Moroccan musician. But he is not just a muscian - he is the teller of stories.

Othman did not originally want to be a musician and his CV is as eclectic as they come: a lover of football, a maker of furniture, a dancer, an artist, a scenographer, an accountant, a manager. Plus, he is a Professor at The Higher Institute of Drama, Art and Cultural Animation and also at The National School of Architecture.

For him, it just happened that music became such an important part of his life. It all kicked off when he took to the stage with the Lebanese jazzman Ibrahim Maalouf at the Jazzablanca Festival in 2014 and the two of them improvised together. And since then, he has played concerts not just in Morocco but also internationally.

Although he plays the clarinet and the ghayta ( a sort of oboe played by snake charmers in Jamaa-el-Fna Square in Marrakech), he chose the saxaphone as his main instrument because he felt that it was the instrument which most complemented his voice. That he is self-taught tells you something of his drive and passion, and during performances, he often switches from one instrument to another.

His songs are inspired by everyday life going back to childhood and reflect emotions, stories and sensations he has experienced and before each number he gives a brief description of his inspiration for that particular song.

His music, he says in an interview with Bouthaina Azami, is 'halfway between jazz, world music and pure Moroccan and popular tradition. He calls it a 'jazzy' approach - 'beldi' jazz where the audience can both dance and go into a trance.

His fellow musicians were:-

Yassir Zaitat
Philip Holzapfel
Martine Labbe
Oussama Mougar
Oussama Chtouki
Imad Innouri 


All in all it was a very exciting performance.

You can watch and listen to the performance on this playlist, recorded by, and here's the opening number:

Tuesday, 16 January 2018

Yacine Ben Ali, Pascal Amel and "PLANET ESSAOUIRA"

Listen up,'ll hear it first here. Yacine Ben Ali, Pascal Amel and Maalem Mokhtar Gania plus a group of very talented musicians are recording an album of amazing Gnawa Fusion music in Yacine and Pascal's Planet Essaouira state-of-the-art music studio (Essaouira, Morocco) and when the album is released later this year, it'll blow your socks off.

Gnawa music was brought to Morocco by the Gnawa people of Sub-Saharan Africa. It's very exciting music with a lead gumbri musician (very often a master or Maalem) with his (or her) Gnawi singers and dancers, all of whom wear spectacular costumes and can perform dances and incredible leaps which take your breath away.

The traditional form of Gnawa - called lilas - are in small gatherings and are quite spiritual, trance- like occasions and are said to be very healing. Then there is the performance Gnawa, playing to a much bigger audience, and lots of fun to listen to and dance to. And then there is Gnawa fusion, where Gnawa music is fused/mixed with other musical genres such as jazz, reggae, hip-hop, heavy metal, pop, fact, just about every form of music. In fact, because this works so well, it's probably true to say that Gnawa is one of the most versatile music genres in the world.

Although Gnawa groups and artists perform throughout the world, the real showcase for all three forms of Gnawa (also spelt Gnaoua) is The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival which takes place every year (usually in June). It lasts for four days and is, on the whole, free. It's an incredible festival and world-class musicians come from all over the world to perform with Gnawa groups.

Now Yacine Ben Ali and Pascal Amel want to bring Gnawa Fusion music to a wider audience with the album Yacine is recording. John Knutson and I were very privileged to be invited by Yacine to the studio, tucked away in the old city, over the Xmas period to meet the musicians and listen to some of the music. Even at this stage, when more processing is needed, it sounds very new and very exciting. Of course, at this stage, we didn't record any of the music but I can give you a brief synopsis of  the musicians involved.

Yacine Ben Ali is the President of the studio. He's the producer of the album, composer and musician. He is also very involved with music festivals in Essaouira, including the Jazz Festival this Xmas. This album has been eighteen months in the planning and now three months into recording.

The main Gnawa influence, around which the music is based, is Maalem Mokhtar Gania, one of the most respected Gnawa musicians not just in Morocco but beyond. For example, he has recorded music in Copenhagen with Torben Holleufer, the Danish journalist, reviewer and musician, who also managed Mokhtar for a number of years.

Mokhtar comes from a most distinguished Gnawa family, who originally travelled to Morocco from Mali. His father was the legendary El Maalem - Maalem Boubker - and all three sons became masters (Maalems) of Gnawa music. Sadly, Mokhtar is the only remaining son, but his brothers - Maalem Mahmoud Gania and Maalem Abdelah Gania - were all renowned in their own rights.

Mokhtar has an amazing voice and can sing soft and sweet or so deeply that you can feel your body vibrate: a gentle man with the voice of a lion.

Youssef Iferd, based in Los Angeles, has been staying in Essaouira for some time to work on the recordings. He is a music producer, a composer and a singer and very much involved with Moroccan radio. He also plays the guitar and guembri. Youssef has spent the last ten years fusing Gnawa with other musical genres and so his expertise is vital to this project.

Elkhabou Che Anoir from France is an arranger, composer and lead guitarist. He also plays the oud and mandolin.

Nasr El Jaouhari is a composer and singer and is also involved in music festivals in Essaouira.


Pascel Amel from France is the Director General of Planet Essaouira. Pascal is a renowned writer, director and art critic: he is editor-in-chief of Art absolutely, which is a contemporary art magazine, and has had stories and poems published as well as several books on art. And - and this is very close to my heart - it was Pascal's idea to have a music festival in Essaouira which led to the very first Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival in 1997, now in its 21st year.

Pascal's aim for Planet Essaouira is that it provides a safe haven for talented Moroccan musicians, both established and emerging, to create their own music from recording, to production and then broadcasting, all to international standards. So, Yacine's album will be one of many. To have Essaouira at the centre of this fantastic enterprise is thrilling for all of us who love Essaouira.

Yacine's group with Mokhtar plan to play at this year's Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival in June and John Knutson and I, Insh'allah, will be at there June 21st - 24th and enjoying their performance. It's quite something to look forward to.

     Yacine Ben Ali and Maggie Knutson. 

Friday, 5 January 2018

Marcus Ruud and Simohamed Hallhoulle - Essaouira - Xmas Eve 2017


'Silver' and 'Curly' playing Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' Mary Jane's Last Dance

Imagine the scene - John Knutson and I sitting outside our favourite restaurant in Essaouira - Chez Ben Mostafa - lunch-time on Xmas Eve. Not a harrassed last minute shopper in sight, no rain clouds or drizzle, no snow, no piped Xmas music blasting out of shops. Instead, we are sitting very comfortably watching the world go by, warmed by a gentle sun, greeting friends, talking to strangers and generally chilling out.

Now, Essaouira is famous for its music. There is the massive Gnawa and World Music Festival every year (now in its 21st year) which I'm crazy about, and even during our short stay, we heard fabulous music in the making at Yacine Ben Ali's PlanetEssaouira studio (more about this in my next post) and there was also a two-day Jazz Festival (and more about this in a further post). And there is also street music, particularly opposite cafes, and there's some pretty horrible stuff - pretend Gnawa that makes you cringe. But some of it is pretty darn good.

So, back to Chez Mostafa's. Not too far away to the left is the gorgeous sweep of beach heading off towards the desert and to our right is the large Moulay Hassan Square, one of the venues of the Festival, and beyond it the rather splendid but fierce Atlantic. And John and I are in relax mode but I can see two musicians opposite ready to start playing. On the left is a Nordic looking musician with long white hair and an enviable tan. On the right is someone I remember seeing at the Festival last June at Chez Mostafa. I remembered him because he looks like Jimi Hendrix and who doesn't like Jimi Hendrix?

At first I think they're going to play separately. "This will be fun," I tell myself, "they'll be competing against each other. I wonder who will win." But then it becomes obvious that are playing together and it sounds really good. In fact, it's so good that I take the trouble to get out of my chair and video the number they are playing on my phone.

                                         'Silver' and 'Curly' playing John Lennon's Imagine

After they've had a break, they get up and so do I, and to my great pleasure, they start to sing John Lennon's Imagine, one of my favourite songs and probably the most appropriate songs for Xmas. And it's not just them singing, everyone joins in: me, customers at Chez Mostofa's and people passing by, most of whom respect my videoing and pass behind me. And in the 'cool corner' of Chez Mustofa are Yacine Ben Ali of PlanetEssaouira studio and friends and Yacine is very interested in these two.

What a brilliant way to spend Xmas Eve.

Talking to them later, I discover that Marcus Ruud is Norwegian but lives in Essaouira and Simohamed Hallhoulle is Moroccan. The two have know each other for a couple of years but have only started to play together recently. I have no idea what the future holds for them but judging from these videos, I think their future will be very bright indeed.

Friday, 29 September 2017


I have just finished reading this novel and I have to say that I'm glad that I've finished it. It's not that I didn't enjoy reading it because I did but I didn't feel as engaged with it as I have with other novels.

I was first introduced to Doughty's writing when I read Apple Tree Yard last year, well before the excellent BBC adaptation, and I really loved this novel. Firstly, because the main theme of a middle-aged woman finding sexual excitement when she least expected it appealed to me and secondly, because I really admired her writing style. Envious in fact.

But Black Water is a very different kettle of fish. For a start, I didn't like the beginning which made it clear that something really nasty was going to happen to the main character, John Harper, and personally I don't think it's a good idea to give away the ending at the beginning. I could see Doughty's reasoning as she weaves a story - zig-zagging from different times and different countries - leading to the ending. Clever writing, yes, but perhaps too clever by half.

So, the central character, John Harper, which is not his real name, has had a difficult childhood with a dead father and erratic, alcoholic mother, who drags him from Holland to America where she marries into a lovely African-American family only to drag him back again to Holland after an awful tragedy.

Because he is of mixed race, he is of use as some sort of secret agent in Indonesia but he feels a misfit, belonging no-where. His job is to secretly pass on lists of potential communist members and sympathisers to the authorities in Indonesia. It's dangerous work and at times he has to be ruthless to save himself.

As a balance to this unsavoury work, he has a brief affair with Rita, a teacher, whilst he is hiding out in a shack just outside a town in Indonesia. Rita is everything his wife isn't and for a time we hope that his dream of a simple life with her (buy a small piece of land, build a house and just enjoy being together) will come true but given the beginning, it looks like an impossible dream, thus denying us any sense that at long last he will have a happy life.

I really liked the portrayal of Rita. She's a well-built lady with loads of confidence and understanding. Non-demanding and fun to be with. I could have done with more Rita in the novel. But as for Harper, I couldn't really connect with him. Not my kind of guy and with few redeeming features. And yes, the dreadful thing did happen so no surprise there.

I shall certainly read more of Doughty's novels because she is a splendid writer but for me Black Water didn't really work. Shows just how important character and structure are.

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

Dog In The Pram

Dog In The Pram
Maggie Knutson

Maggie Knutson ©2011
Maggie Knutson has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is one of my short stories inspired by Archie, our previous dog, who had a very penetrating but endearing stare. It was a runner up in the Exeter Writers Short Story Competion a few years ago.

The dog would simply not budge. I hissed as loudly as I dared: “Scram … Scat … Scoot … Push Off … Get Lost” but he just stood defiantly in my Grass Enhancement Area and fixed me with his gaze. I took my shoe off and hurled it towards the creature. It struck him on the chest and pain flickered across his eyes but still he would not move. I am not given to anxiety but I could feel panic spreading through me like an injected drug.

“Go away,” I breathed. “Please go away.” I sank onto my allocated Square Block of Patio and switched off my mind for a moment to gain some composure.

The dog sank down, too, his back legs sprawling outwards like plump, furry chicken legs and his front paws crossed comfortably, as if he had settled down to watch The Screen or was waiting for supper. But one thing was for sure: he was in no hurry to leave.

In The New World, governed by the only political party left - the B.C. Party (originally the Politically Correct Party, then the Be Correct Party and now just the B.C. Party) - there were three categories of dogs: Working Dogs To Help The Human Race, Laboratory Dogs To Advance Science, and Pet Dogs To Reward Key Workers.

All dogs were chip coded, collared according to type, and monitored regularly by special vets, who had the authorisation to exterminate any dog that showed signs of sickness. All dogs had their teeth and voice boxes removed on birth to eliminate barking and biting, and breeding was strictly supervised. Added to this, no dog was allowed to wander freely and, appertaining to my own immediate dilemma, was to be reported instantly to The Peaceful Life Police. Every moment I delayed, placed me in greater danger.

It, the dog, was locking our eyes together with his penetrating stare and I was not so much hypnotised as mesmerised. I had long learnt not to engage in meaningful or prolonged eye contact. If one wished to progress at work or survive amongst neighbours, it was essential to adopt the Submissive Eye Technique. But, to my surprise, I felt pleasantly exhilarated by this unexpected canine encounter.
It was a contact, a communication with another living being and it was stirring something within me, a hazy memory flittering shadow-like across my mind, of pleasurable times when all creatures, human and non-human, were free to interact. And, shockingly, I knew that by allowing these memories to surface, like a nuclear submarine flouting the rules and taking a little peek at life above the sea level, I was entering extremely dangerous waters.

I sighed. You could get me into a lot of trouble, dog, I thought, as I looked into his deep brown eyes.

I know.

I went as rigid as a corpse.

Can you read my thoughts? A silly question to be sure because he had just done so but it went against everything I had previously known or experienced or even read about.

Yes. This single thought-word scared but thrilled me.

But it’s not possible. You’re just a dog. Still disbelief.

Excuse me! I’m not just any dog!

A thinking dog with attitude – just what I needed!

Obviously! I replied.

This was becoming surreal. I drew within myself and considered the implications. Perhaps my imagination was playing silly tricks on me. But…I was also intrigued. If this was a laboratory dog, and its thin grey steel collar indicated as such, then who knows what kind of experiments he had undergone.
It always chilled me to see the latest advances in science as shown on The Screen. Only last week, we had been told of a breakthrough in the use of DNA from horses to help fybromyalgia sufferers. Although these advances were to be welcomed on a personal level, it often worried me that we had crossed some kind of unnatural boundary.

The mixing of human and animal genes was, I believed, experimenting dangerously with the unknown. I might have called it playing God but religion had been outlawed and it was unsafe to express such views. Still, despite my distaste for such experimentation, I had to deal with the fact that I had a feisty dog-like-no-other lounging on my lawn.

He was a beautiful, too, with soft, short fur, which was predominantly white but interspersed with a splattering of fudge-coloured splodges over his eyes, ears and back, like a child’s inexperienced painting. He was compactly built and certainly some kind of hybrid. In this state of ultra concentration, I could see his nose twitching rabbit-like and one ear stood erect, as if it were an antennae.

His face was amazingly structured, a canine version of a piece of delicate art worked with bones and veins. His small chest was strong and muscular, and fanning out from the base of his spine was a long, pure white, furred tail that I was sure would feel soft, if I did but dare touch it. And here was another memory, even more clearly formed than the last, of the deliciously sensuous touch of rich velvet, rose petals, fine silk, and yes, the naked body of another human.

But, suddenly, the dog tensed. He sat up, all muscles alert. I strained to hear what he was hearing but in the fading evening light, I could only detect the muffled domestic noises of my fellow neighbours.

Turn your Screen back on the dog commanded.


Turn your Screen back on! he repeated, only this time more urgently.

My first instinct was to object. It was bad enough taking endless orders from my Sponsor, Irma, but to do so from a dog rankled. However, it wouldn’t hurt to put the damn Screen back on. It was mandatory, after all, and switching it off was certainly reckless.

To me, The Screen was not only intrusive but often obscene. The latest craze for Murder Reality TV disgusted me, and The President’s Daily Address assumed that we were all gullible idiots. Perhaps we were, but surely we didn’t need to be constantly reminded. So, I had spent one rain-swept weekend sitting cross-legged next to the controls and drinking endless cups of Happiness Tea, learning how to adjust both the vision and the sound so I could turn off either one or the other or both. At least my time as a technician with IBM (now both bankrupt and discredited) had been educational.

What about you? I asked the dog.

I shall stay here.

I was sure I would wake up in the morning and realise that this was just one of those strange dreams you get when you drink too much Happiness Tea. Nevertheless, I dutifully trotted into my living area, readjusted The Screen and settled down to watch.

It was The President: a youthful, well-groomed man who spoke with an air of benign authority although I did sometimes wonder if he were the absolute power he claimed to be. Perhaps the B.C. Committee pulled the strings or even The Faceless Ones who were alluded to in muted tones at work. My speculations were too radical to articulate publicly. And anyway, who would I tell them to? Friendships were frowned upon and so I had no friends.

“I wish to remind you all,” he was saying, “that your Screen is state property and must not be tampered with. The punishment for doing so will be immediate removal to The Correction Area …” and so on. I had heard enough. Adding two and two together and making five, I deduced that there must be others, too, who broke the rules. My spine tingled with excitement at this idea. I was not alone.

It was then that I heard the ominous roar of powerful motorbikes. The Peaceful Life Police had arrived and I was in no doubt as to whom they were to visit. Thank God I had readjusted my Screen.

On gaining total supremacy of the country, The B.C. Party had immediately resolved the on-going problem of too few police and too many prisoners. In a neat and effective move, they had released all prisoners and transformed them into a new, ultra-tough police force, whilst locking up all police officers.

My visitors were two teenage girls: the most brutal of all the police. They might look like caricatures with their black leathers, chewing gum and layers of spiky mascara but their heavy silver chains clanging by their sides were feared by all citizens.

These two looked as mean as hell, so I kept my eyes averted. I could smell their disappointment on discovering the loud flickering Screen. They moodily poked their batons to displace the few possessions I had, but they could find no reason to give me a Chastisement and they brushed out as dismissively as they had entered. I listened as their boots echoed menacingly around the deserted streets (we were now past curfew time) and then the shock of engines as they sped away to some other hapless citizen.

I wondered who could have reported me but that was futile. It could have been any one of my neighbours. Life had become like that. After this unpleasant experience, I was tempted to pop a Diazepam (standard issue for all) but I sought out the dog, instead, inexplicably hoping that he had not been frightened off.

I couldn’t see him but I could feel him watching me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, and the shade of darkness altered by the wall as he emerged into moonlight.

And then, Come on, Dog, I projected. Come inside before any of my nosey neighbours see you.

You called me Dog. Is that your name for me?

I guess so.

I’ve never been given a name before.

And I swear that Dog swaggered inside.

I fed him warm cereal mixed with milk and sat on the floor close by, with a cup of tea, watching as he sucked in his supper, his eyes closed and long, ginger lashes resting gently on his cheek-bones. His chest was rising and falling in rhythm with his heartbeat and it occurred to me that this must be how new mothers felt, before their babies were taken away to their Allocated Homes.

But I checked this impulse of sentimentality and once he had finished his meal, I allowed my rational self to take control.

I could get into serious trouble doing this.

I know.

So, what do you want from me?

I want you to take me to The Land Of No Return.

I looked at him in horror.

That’s impossible.

No, it isn’t.

I’ve got too much to lose.


‘I have a good job…this flat...’

More silence.

I’d be risking everything I’ve achieved and then there really would be no return.

But Dog did not answer. Instead, his eyes became like a pair of secret screens that showed flashes of scenes of unspeakable brutality. I shrank back in shock and my heart, frozen for so long, burned with anger. I was seeing, as if I were there myself, the awful truth about animal experimentation and it was not the painless, cosy scene that we had all seen on The Screen. It was indescribably foul.

Dog showed little emotion but the earnestness of his expression revealed an anxiety for me to know. Yet, still, I demurred.

You’re asking a lot of me.

You are my last chance… as I am yours.

I sucked in breath.

Let me sleep on it.

Sleep was a surprisingly peaceful sensation that night, given all that I had witnessed, for Dog was curled into a tight ball at the foot of my bed, so obviously trusting of me, and the last thing I could remember was hearing the sound of his gentle, controlled breathing, which was strangely comforting.

I resolved to go into work the next day. I needed to be able to think without Dog’s pleading eyes absorbing my every thought. All was normal until lunchtime, when I was leaving the office for my mandatory Teeth Perfection Treatment, and I felt an unaccustomed movement on my cheek. Instinctively, I checked myself in the mirror, which, in magnified form, covered all walls and ceilings.

There was a small black insect crawling over my cheekbone and the instant I realised that it was some form of dog parasite, my eyes locked straight into the puzzled stare of Irma. Irma had a Reward Dog: she would know about such things. I flicked the insect away casually and, with disguised haste, set off for my appointment but, once away from the building, I paused against a wall to regain my breath and to curb the surge of undiluted fear that threatened to betray me.

Irma was a loyal Party member. She would report me for illegal contact with a dog, despite my value as her most senior software creator. I would be arrested on my return, secretly bundled out through the basement and whisked away to a miserable destiny. My flat would be repossessed and Dog returned to the hell that I had seen in his eyes.

I ignored my appointment and headed straight for home. A Young Mother was carrying her baby inside a nearby flat and her brief, miserable glance my way strengthened my resolve. I must escape.

Dog was waiting for me, sitting as alert as radar, eyes bright with expectation. Quick! We’re leaving! I swept into the kitchen and pushed provisions into two plastic bags. Then I hurried to my secret hiding place and retrieved my most treasured possessions, all banned items. There was a well-thumbed photograph of a vase of sunshine yellow flowers, a mouldy bar of milk chocolate, and a battered old brown leather cigarette case containing a lighter and one cigarette.

I shoved them hastily into my pocket and opened the front door, Dog at my side. There, in front of us, was the baby’s shining new pram with sufficient room for one dog under my two bags. The problem of how to smuggle Dog out had been my most pressing priority and yet here the answer was provided for us. It was then that I realised that God had not deserted me.

Dog and I did not need to communicate, our thought patterns now so in tune, even after such a short period of time. He jumped as lightly as a soufflĂ© into the pram, I placed the bags on top of him and thus we set off…

So, that is how the amazing partnership between Dog and myself came into being. And how did we reach the safety of The Land Of No Return (which is actually called The Land Of Freedom)? Now that’s a fascinating story. Perhaps Dog will tell you that one, when you have managed to escape, too.

Thursday, 3 August 2017


Bob Music is probably the quirkiest and most interesting shop in Essaouira and well worth a visit. Owned and run by Abdul Oubella, it celebrates both Gnaoua music and Bob Marley (hence the name.) Bob Marley, as we all know, was a reggae musician, not a gnaoua musician, but he is VERY popular in Morocco and in a way, Abdul helps keep his name alive by his impressive display of Bob Marley photographs, just as many Moroccans do by sporting incredible dreadlock hairstyles, which are extremely fetching.

Inside the shop, which is at 3, Rue Youssef Ben Tachfine (close to 104, Avenue Sidi Mohamid Ben Abdallah) there are a wide range of musical instruments ranging from guembris (the Gnaoua equivelent of the guitar) to drums to krakebs to....just about everything.There is also an impressive selection of records plus posters of Bob Marley for sale. Added to this, is Abdul's knowledge of music - he's like a walking, breathing encyclopedia of music. Ask him a question and he'll probably know the answer.

When Ky-Marney Marley (one of Bob's sons) was in town to play at Bab Marrakesh (an absolute fantastic set I might add), he payed a visit to Bob Music and below is a photo of Abdul with Ky-Marney.

Ky-Marney Marley and Bob

Abdul was at prayer when I took the following photographs but his assistant, Hamid was there.

John attempting to play a guembri


Hamid on krabebs, John on the guembri

Bob Music shop

Some of Abdul's photos of Bob Marley


Quite frankly, I could look at photos of Bob Marley all day and not get bored. I don't think he will ever be forgotten: his legacy most certainly lives on.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Abdul now also has a silver shop at 104, Avenue Sid Mohamed Ben Abdallah, close to Bob Music. This is worth a visit, too, because he has a fantastic range of beautiful jewellery. I bought four pairs of ear-rings and they are very much admired - and reasonably priced, too. And, good quality.

My four ear-rings

And Finally - my motto for The Festival is IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT THE MUSIC

Insh'alla, I shall be reporting on The Festival next year

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival 2017 - PART FOUR - RAY LEMA and MAALEM ABDESLAM ALIKANE (with special thanks to Mohamed Ali El Barnoussi)

To start at the end, we, the audience, would not let Maalem Abdeslam Alikane and his eight dancers off the stage. He would finish a number and take a final bow and then we'd plead for another song and so he'd very kindly oblige and then, when that song had finished and he took a final bow, we'd plead for just one more song.....and so on until, was it two in the morning or later?...probably later...and Abdeslam looked in no hurry to vacate that stage. It was a truly great way to finish The Festival.

So, back to the beginning. In 2007 John saw Ray Lema (piano/keyboard player from Congo) and Maalem Abdeslam Alikane play the last set at Moulay Haasan Square whilst I was watching Asian Dub Foundation with a Gnaoua group (can't remember the name) from the comfort of our hotel room balcony overlooking Bab Marakech Square. When John returned, I said: "You missed a fabulous set," and he said: "So did you."

And then he played what he had recorded and it was pretty darn good and is one of our favourite pieces of music to listen to, particularly on holiday.

Now we jump to 2017 and we've arrived early in Eassouira days before The Festival and John blags his way into the Residence where Ray Lema is practising with, yes, Maalem Abdeslam Alikane, in readiness for their set on the Saturday night. And during a break, John chats with Ray Lema about that memorable 2007 set and told him that he had recorded it and actually had a copy in the hotel room. Would Ray Lema like a copy? (John had brought loads of different recordings to give away to anyone who loves the music.) Of course, Ray Lema would like a copy and so John goes and fetches it and takes it  back to the Residence and gives it to Ray Lema's agent.

So, the next day, I tag along with John to go listen to them practising again. Ray Lema's agent doesn't want John to film the practise but I sneak these two not brilliant photos. But the important thing is that they sound really good and once they've played a section, they go over it again and again to perfect it, which is most impressive. Had I had my wits about me, I would have asked the names of Ray Lema's drummer, guitarist and saxaphonist but I didn't so I can't tell you. (I was rusty about the whole Festival thing because we hadn't been for four years. I managed to get myself into top gear just as The Festival was finishing but I'll certainly hit the ground running next year... with a better camera!)

Ray Lema, Maalem Abdeslam Alikane and Ray Lema's guitarist

Ray Lema's drummer and saxaphonist

Now we jump to Saturday 1st July and 'Scene De La Plage' - the venue right next to the beach - and Ray Lema and Maalem Abdeslam Alikane were due to play the very last set, starting at midnight. Thankfully, the weather was quite mild compared with the evening before when it had been so cold and windy we couldn't face walking along the promenade to get to this venue, missing some acts we really would have liked to have seen.

The last set of The Festival is always a poignant affair because it heralds the end of The Festival and I really felt I hadn't heard enough music; partly because The Festival was only three days this year and not the usual four; and also because there's no such thing as 'catching a quick supper in a restaurant between sets.' What I really wanted was more Gnaoua Music and, thankfully, that's what I got.

Anyway, the VIP area was not so crowded at the beach venue compared with Moulay Hassan, which was pretty hectic, and I managed to wriggle my way almost to the front. The only thing between me and the barrier were two young Moroccan men. So, I asked if I could stand in front of them to take my photographs and they very kindly agreed.

Whilst we were waiting for the set to start I got into conversation with one of these charming men and he told me his name was Mohamed Ali El Barnoussi and that he was a great Roger Federer fan - even had a photo of him on his phone. I'm a great Wimbledon fan so we could have chatted for ages, plus we were both fans of the music, but then the set started and we focused on having a great time. So, thank you Mohamed Ali for allowing me to stand in front of you - it was very much appreciated. (We're now Facebook friends and hope to see you at the Festival next year, Mohamed Ali.)

With two lovely young men behind me, I also had a small child on either side of me who were fascinated by it all and a very pretty young Moroccan woman, totally dressed in white with a white headscarf, who almost knocked me off my feet because when the music started she began to dance in almost wild abandonment, so clearly enjoying herself. So, the only thing to do was to dance myself, obviously being careful not to knock either or both child over. Pretty crazy, is how I'd describe it and lots and lots of fun.

What Ray Lema brought to the set was his own Afro-jazz fusion with his guitarist, drummer and saxophonist so in a way it was a double fusion and the moving in and out of Gnaoua and jazz and then both together made for an exciting sound, as you can listen to later on. My only critisism is that Ray Lema's group were very much in the background and I would have liked to hear a few solo pieces from them. However, it was still a most enjoyable set.

Some okayish  photos but I hope they capture the essence of the set





Curtain call, or so we all thought


But after Ray Lema and his team left the stage, Abdeslam and his dancers remained and that's when we had a real Gnaoua fest. So, it was best of both worlds: we had fusion and Gnaoua. And those dancers should receive medals because they had to keep dancing and dancing and dancing. It was fabulous.

To see the DaftNotStupid videos of this set click below:

THE FESTIVAL HAS ENDED - LONG LIVE THE FESTIVAL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Wednesday, 26 July 2017


Just occasionally, The Festival throws up a performance that you were totally not expecting - totally, different, totally unique and totally wonderful. I'm thinking, in particular of The Korean Drummers  (Samulnori Molgae) and The Ali Brothers - Mehr and Sher (from Pakistan) from way back when Bab Marrakesh was used as a venue. (In my opinion, this was the best venue of The Festival and it was such a pity when they stopped using it. I noted this year that it's been dug up - no doubt for shops or housing - and the place looks all wrong, bringing the new part of Essaouira far too close to the old part.)

I was reminded of both performances when listening to the set I'm about to describe: The Korean Drummers because they displayed an amazing sound and energy just using drums that quite took your breath away; and The Ali Brothers who were so spiritual that it made the hair on your back stand on end.

The Titi Robin et al set had both these elements and more because it also included a remarkable Gnaoua Group, led by Mehdi Nassouli who brought Gnaoua element into the mix, plus four remarkable musicians: Titi Robin, Shuheb Hasan, Murad Ali Khan and Ze Luis Nascimento.

Here's a little taster which, by some miracle, I managed to record on my little Lumix camera:

So, to start at the beginning, this was the first set on The Saturday night, the first of July, at Moulay Hassan Square and I really wasn't expecting to hear such Divine music which just got better and better as the set progressed until I really didn't want it to stop and still can't get out of my mind even several weeks later.

What follows are brief descriptions plus some okay-ish photos of the performers (going to get a better camera for the next Festival):

Medhi Nassouli and Titi Robin


Titi Robin from France is a composer and improviser, and plays the guitar, buzuq, mandelin and oud. He has been influenced by a whole range of music - Mediterranean, Gypsy, Oriental, European and Arab - plus poetry and paintings, and he's also written the film score for a number of films, as well as recording a number of albums. So, quite a talented musician to say the least.

Even more so since I have just discovered that Titi composed most of the music for the set, chose the musicians personally to perform the piece, weaving in some of the traditional Gnaoua music and allowing individual improvisations and directed it all whilst playing the guitar or a mandolin (with holes in!) That explains why it was such an exceptional, haunting set and now I know it's unique, which pleases me no end.

Medhi Nassouli is one of the most talented musicians I have ever seen or listened to and having watched numerous videos of him on You Tube in order to research this post I am actually in awe. He is far more than a Gnaoua 'Maalem' and that is no disrespect to Gnaoua 'Maalem's. Officially I couldn't find anywhere in my research that labelled him a Maalem but he certainly acted like one in this set, directing his four dancers with a small nod of the head or a smile.

I've found descriptions of Medhi as being an artist musician, a singer, a bassist and a frame drummer. But the truth is that his talent can't be fitted neatly into one label. In the many videos I've watched of him, he is often the star of the performance and he's worked with many, many other musicians. I suspect, though, that his collaboration with Titi is the most intense.

His main instrument as far as I can see is the guembri. For such a seemingly basic instrument it can make an incredibly vibrant, distinctive sound and Medhi appears to adapt it to the genre of music he's playing. I particularly liked the jazz videos and I'm wondering just how far Medhi can go in revolutionising the use of the guembri. Am I being fanciful in thinking that Medhi can do to the guembri what Jimi Hendrix did to the guitar?

So, Medhi travels the world playing with different musicians and playing different types of music but at The festival he led his Gnaoua group and played the guembri and a frame drum. I've never seen him perform before because we missed the last four Festivals but I hope to do so many times in the future because he has such a tender, expressive voice which glides effortlessly through the air, and a beautiful smile, which could melt a thousand hearts. And sometimes his face is so expressive, it was as if he was telling us a story that he cared passionately about.

One thing I haven't mentioned before are the wonderful Gnaoua costumes. I'd love to have a look at some close up to see just how they are decorated and I must admit I was green with envy seeing all the outfits that Medhi has. He has an eye for design and style as well as an ear for music.

Medhi and Titi have played together before a number of times and there seems to be a really good understanding between them, sometimes sparring against each other with their instruments. There are some delightful videos on You Tube of the two playing together and they have released a CD called Taziri (which I have ordered from Amazon) which also features Ze Luis Nascimento, who also played in the set.

Mehdi's Gnaoua Dancers (plus singers plus krakeb players)



Shuheb Hasan and Murad Ali Khan


Shuhab Hasan is a vocalist from a distinguished musical family in India, also with an incredible voice and lovely smile. Whenever he opened his mouth something beautiful came out. His hands were most expressive and he also appeared to be telling a story. And at times he sang a repeat so quickly and for so long I had no idea how he was able to breathe. Although I'm no expert, I'm pretty sure that this was Sufi singing, which is most spiritual.

Standing serenely, in his pink tunic and black trousers and his hair ruffled by the wind, waiting to sing, he looked for all the world like a Bollywood Film Star. And, I have to admit that I was intrigued by what appeared to be connected buttons down part of his tunic made of what looked like diamonds. But whatever they're made of they looked very classy.

Murad Ali Khan is also from a distinguished musical family in India. In fact, he is a sixth generation sarangi and sitar player, with an impressive CV including playing the sarangi in many major music festivals around the world as well as in India, and has won many awards. He's also played with Lady Gaga and Yoko Ono and for Bollywood and Hollywood films. He enjoys playing both classical music and rock and fusion music.

The sarangi is an incredible instrument. I'd never heard it before but I am truely hooked. Apparently, it's popularity was declining in India and Pakistan until Murad brought it to audiences around the world, raising its profile, which was Murad's intention. His passion no less. It's wonderfully melodic (with up to fifty strings) and at times sounds like a human voice. It complemented the voices of Medhi and Shubeb and one flowed into another into another effortlessly.

Unfortunately, I have no full photos of Murad because he was sitting down and because I was in the VIP area not the press pit, I couldn't move around to take good photos of either him or Ze Luis Nascimento, both of whom were mainly masked by photographers.

Just to let you know that both Murad and Shuheb play in an Indian fusion rock band called Soul Savaad with records available and Murad also has records also available.

 And finally:-

Ze Luis Nascimento - the Brazilian drummer and percussionist whose face expressed sheer joy and whose energy and skill was exciting to watch and to listen to. Ze Luis trained initially as a dancer with Bahian Folk Ballet before becoming a musician, which doesn't surprise me because he seemed to let the music invade his body through the drums, which he played with just his hands.

Ze Luis has developed his own unique style of playing and is in great demand as both a solo artist as well as working with many other musicians. He has an impressive list of CDs and albums, participating in the recording of over a hundred international albums. So, we were very lucky to see him perform in Essaouira. An absolute delight, in fact.

The world-renowned Persian percussionist Habib Mefta was due to play with Titi Robin et al but unfortunately had another engagement and couldn't make it. Perhaps next year they can all play again at The Festival, including Habib. Now that would be something. Come on Festival organisers, an early request.

But back to the set on the Saturday. What I was really impressed with, as well, was that each musician communicated with each mainly just using eye contact and their smiles showed just how much they were enjoying the fabulous music they were making.

Here are some more photos:-




Can't tell you how thrilled I was to find another short video on my camera so here it it is:-

And to view the whole set, courtesy of daftnotstupid click here and .....enjoy.

But a final plea.I have spent hours watching videos on You Tube in order to write this post and have been highly entertained. We all do it, those of us who love music. But we don't pay a penny for it and the musicians don't get paid every time we watch them on You Tube. So, my plea is this: if have enjoyed a musicians' music and he or she has a CD out - BUY A COPY. I have also ordered a copy of Murad Ali Khan's sarangi playing from Amazon and will explore how to find CDs recorded by Soul Samvaad, currently not available on Amazon.

NEXT POST - coming soon - Ray Lema and Maleem Abdeslam Alikane