Here's a cassette of Aita Haouzia from the year 2000. The performers are the group Ouled el Haouz featuring Shikh Hassan Dariouki (here misspelled as Darouki, elsewhere spelled Driouki or Daryouki). During my fieldwork time in Morocco, they were ubiquitious - I saw them perform on the Djemaa el Fna in Marrakech, at an Aita festival in Safi, and at a gathering of ethnomusicologists in Tangier.
We've featured some fine Aita Haouzia recordings before in the stash here and here, but it's been a hot minute since we did so. Frankly I'd forgotten I had this tape. I think I never shared it because I thought it wasn't as good as the other two, but upon listening again, and aided by the magic of a little EQ and compression, it sounds pretty good to me today.
Aita Haouzia is such a great sound - scratchy fiddle and screechy vocals staying within the range of a minor third for the entire song, accompanied by explosive beats on the little tarija clay goblet drums (how do those little drums make such startling big noises?). The Dariouki group seemed to be the primary exponent of Aita Haouzia back around the turn of the century, or at least the most famous. Here's a video clip of them in action around this time - I believe this comes from a 2004 VCD:
One thing I love about this group is the old thin guy with glasses who doesn't sing but just dances and wanders around the stage, sometimes getting up on the qaada to stamp out a beat with his feet. Hassan El Dariouki has passed away, but according to this article, the dancer, Mohamed Zaitra, was still alive and stepping in beat as recently as 2024. May God give him, and all of us, health, joy, and transcendent grooves.
Cheikh Hassan El Darouki شيخ حسن الدروكي M3a Farqat Oulad Al Haouz مع فرقة ولاد الحوز [with Ensemble Oulad al Haouz] Safi Disque cassette 15/2000 صافي ديسك
Here's a lovely cassette from singer and violinist Abdessadek Chekkara (1931-1998).
Chekkara's musical trajectory spans the traditional and the modern, the colonial period and the era of independence. As a child, he began his musical tutelage at the Zawiya al-Harraq, whose founder, the Shaykh Sidi Mohamed al-Harraq, was an ancestor of his mother. At the zawiya, he gained a traditional foundation in the Moroccan Andalusian repertoire (al-Âla) as well as the musical repertoires associated with Sufi brotherhood practice (dhikr and amdah), joining the zawiya's musical ensemble when he reached the age of 14. In 1947 he broadened his musical education by enrolling at the Music Institute in Tetouan, undertaking techincal training on the violin and leading student ensembles. He spent time collecting poetry and music from oral traditions, and by 1956 became an instructor at the Institute.
In the late 1950s Chekkara began a recording career, recording songs from the Tetouani popular, religious, and Andalusi traditions, as well as his own compositions. While becoming a successful recording artist, it appears that Chekkara remained active in musical instructional activities and community performances in Tetouan, retaining his position at the Institute and leading Friday dhikr at the zawiya.
The most well-known song associated with him is probably his composition "Bint Bladi" (lyrics by Abderrahmane al-Alami). The album containing this song is available on the streaming platforms:
"Bint Bladi" ("Girl of my homeland") famously contains an interpolation of the Spanish folk song "La Tarara", saying something about the musical, historical, and/or cultural relationship between Tetouan and Andalusia, or Morocco and Spain. Tetouan was a major recipient of Muslim and Jewish refugees after the fall of Granada in 1492, thus becoming a primary site of retention for Andalusian culture (including music). Tetouan was also the capital of the Spanish protectorate of Morocco from 1913 to 1956.
On a tangential note, another Chekkara song from the above album, "Ya Wlidi" was given a fantastic Son Jarocho treatment by Moroccan singer Nabyla Maan in 2009. In my old band I always wanted to do something that combined the Moroccan chaabi 6/8 rhythm with the Mexican sesquialtera 6/8, but Nabyla beat us to it:
Anyway... the album I'm sharing today is similar to the "Bint Bladi" album, containing what I believe are compositions by Chekkara in Tetouani style, recorded with a large orchestra and choir (perhaps from the Tetouan Music Institute). Delightful stuff.
What caught me off guard was the exquisite instrumental improvisation and mawwal that begin track B2 "Laghram Manaa Wa Siib". On first casual listen, I thought the improvisation was being played on some sort of electric keyboard. On second listen, I think it's a piano being played without use of pedal, recorded in a large room with natural reverb. This whole performance is wonderful - the piano improvisation gives way to a mawwal sung by Chekkara with piano responses and a violin improvisation (I assume also played by Chekkara). The use of piano in Arab Andalusian music is something I associate primarily with Algerian traditions, but apparently is also used in the Tetouani tradition. And I swear I can hear birds chirping in the garden in quiet passages!
The album was originally issued as an LP. My cassette copy is clearly a rip from a well-loved vinyl complete with pops and clicks. I took some extra time to remove as many clicks as possible from the aforementioned mawwal and improvisation.
Hope you enjoy!
Abdessadak Chqara عبد الصادق شقارة Tichkaphone cassette TCK 605 تشكافون
A1 Ana Mzawag أنا مزاوݣ A2 Kane Msafer كان مسافر A3 Saadia السعدية B1 Laghram Ma Andou Dwa الغرام ما عندو دوا B2 Laghram Manaa Wa Siib الغرام مانع وصعيب
Ali Al-Zougari. "الفنان عبد الصادق شقارة أحد أعلام الآلة والذكر والموال والكمان والموسيقى التراثية التطوانية". Pp. 11-18 in عبد الصادق شقارة : حياه ونغمة. Tetouan: Association Tetouan Asmir, 1996.
Âita, Moroccan deep Arabic folk song, doesn't need modernization - it's perfectly fine and powerful in its own right as performed by traditional ensembles. At the same time, it doesn't necessarily suffer when musicians put it into conversation with other genres and styles. Sure, this CAN be done in a simple way that doesn't add anything interesting and just waters down the hard-hitting time-tested acoustic textures of aita with modern instruments or vocal styles. In the best cases, though, something interesting emerges.
Last week I digitized a 1990's tape that Gary from Bodega Pop sent me by the group Toulati El Farah Lamnawar. It's a chaâbi album of the era but it's based in the âita repertoire, and pushes the right buttons for me. I also found out this week that the debut album of the group Aïta Mon Amour came out in January of this year. Their initial singles caught my attention last year with their clever settings of âita songs to modern electro beats and the powerful vocals of singer Widad Mjama.
Toulati El Farah Lamnawar
The cassette comes to us courtesy of Gary of Bodega Pop whose weekly program on WFMU's Give The Drummer Radio stream is eclectic, educational, and always entertaining.
The group Toulati el Farah Lamnawar [1] was led by the late producer, songwriter, and musician Abdeltif Lamnawar (1968-2022), who I believe is from Casablanca. I was not familiar with the group previously, but they seem to have produced a lot of music over the years in a number of formations. The presence of the name Lamnawar after Toulati el Farah suggest that this is Lamnawar's version of the group, which reached its initial successes as simply Toulati el Farah. You can find a couple of these early albums on the streaming platforms under the names "Dami" and "Ana Melit". I believe the initial formation of the group included Lamnawar as well as the vocalist Hassan Lougato. Later albums are attributed to "Orchestre Toulati el Farah" (Trio el Farah Orchestra). And I see some recordings and videoclips that mention the participation of the well known chaabi singer/violinist/arranger Mustapha Bourgogne. At any rate, as Lamnawar relates in this interview, the group formed around the idea of doing the old bendir-and-kamanja (violin) songs with drum set, guitar, and keyboard.
Followers of this blog know that I'm a sucker for electric guitar and drum set, so yes I did enjoy the early 1980s version of Toulati El Farah linked above. This cassette, however, dates from sometime in the 1990s, and chaâbi styles, like all popular music styles, can change substantially in a few years' time. How different is this? Well, it's smoother - seems like there is some drum programming that keeps the beat very steady, as opposed to the raucous drum set of the earlier recordings. However, the darbuka is high in the mix, keeping the music punchy and live. As a bass player, I tend to disdain the use of programmed keyboard bass, but I gotta say, this one here is pretty enjoyable - its syncopated runs provide some of the rhythmic variety that was previously provided by fills on the drum set. And the electric rhythm guitar is still there, buried a bit in the smooth mix, but prominent enough to provide that strummy goodness. Best of all, the 2 fine singers trade off verses, retaining the interactive excitement of shikhat groups. My assessment is of course a completely subjective one, based on my own personal tastes and experiences dancing to this sort of band years ago. For others, this may just sound old-fashioned, or may not work at all. But hey, you can be your own judge:
Toulati El Farah Lamnawar الثلاثي الفرح لمنور Rddou Ouarana Âacha ردو ورانا عاش Disco-Disc cassette ALBUM 19 ديسكو ديسك
[1] Depending on which words you want to translate and how, the group's name can be translated something like:
Lamnawar's Trio El Farah
Lamnawar's Trio of Joy
Lamnawar's Happiness Trio
Aïta Mon Amour
The group Aïta Mon Amour released their debut album Abda in January 2025. I'd been greatly anticipating the album after hearing the group's initial singles in 2024. The group is a powerhouse duo: Widad Mjama on vocals (and occasional drum pounding) and Khalil Epi on multiple instruments.
Like Toulati el Farah, the group was conceived as a vehicle for presenting the old songs in a new format. Here, the venue is not the chaâbi dance/wedding floor, but concert and festival stages, and the beats are contemporary and electronic. Normally I like my âita with a group of singers and musicians to provide that interactive texture that is such a vital part of this music. What Aïta Mon Amour lacks in that regard is made up by the power and expression of Widad's singing and the complex, suprising textures of Khalil's arrangements.
You can hear their album on all of the streaming platforms, but why not support the band and purchase a copy on Bandcamp.
How will these beats sound to ears 30 years from now? Who can say? But I have no doubt that the deep well of âita will still be a source of inspiriation for generations to come.
2 long tracks of 21st century âita & chaâbi for your pleasure, from the microphone of Haj Abdelmoghit. I know I tend to wax nostalgic for the era of electric guitars and raucous drum kits in chaâbi, but I am not immune to the joys of more recent stylings. This album keeps it real with a viola, some light keyboard (and yeah, a synth bass), heavy on the percussion, and isn't that a drum kit down there in the mix? This works for me. And the album has the flow of an actual live set of music as you'd hear it in performance: begin with something slow and heavy, move through several songs, connected via violin-driven instrumental passages as the tempo speeds up and the sung call/response phrases get shorter and shorter, and ending at blistering speed with a punchy rhythmic phrase to cue the end of the song.
Ah that good âita bidaouia feeling! Abdelmoghit Essaidi (b. 1965, Casablanca) quit his bank job to pursue a career singing it. He's enjoyed great success as a real crowd-pleaser of course at weddings but also at concerts (such as the big Mawazine Festival in 2017). And he has even become a favorite among the Moroccan royals, performing at the wedding of Princess Lalla Soukaina in 2013.
Here's another viola driven Middle Atlas Amazigh album for ya. Said Akchmir is a viola player and singer, I believe from Khenifra. I don't know who is the female singer on this tape, but her opening autotuned solo vocal passage blew my socks off. I also love the syncopated pattern the bendir is holding down.
As with Ouaboud Mohamed, whose tape was featured here last week, Said Akchmir appears to use studio synth instruments in his albums, but not in live performances. Here is a video clip of him, doing the live thing with the typical ensemble of several bendirs and male singers, one viola, and a female singer (plus a quartet of dancing ladies):
Ouaboud Mohamed is a singer and bendir player from the region of Khenifra. Most recordings of Middle Atlas Amazigh music seem to be published under the name of the viola or lotar player (who is often the male lead singer) or that of the lead female singer. Thesinging male bendir player is typically anonymous in these recordings, being more of a support role than a star role. I love that Ouaboud plays this support role but also can be the lead singer and release his own recordings. (Full disclosure: I am a singing bendir player who likes the spotlight once in a while but also loves to play a support role in an ensemble. Maybe it comes from also being a bass player.)
I picked up this tape in Beni Mellal in 2012. I couldn't find info online about Ouaboud, but he does maintain a Facebook page and a YouTube channel. He appears to remain quite active performing at private events (weddings and other parties, and private music salons) in the Khenifra area in formations with various viola players like Moha Amzyan and Mustapha Sghir, and female singers such as Fatima Talgadit and Naima Kouda. The ensembles typically consist of several bendirs, one violist, and one or more female singers. In the clip below, Ouaboud is playing the white high-pitched bendir, and he throws in some great syncopated accents in the 2nd half of the clip.
In addition to live performances, Ouaboud has made several studio recordings under his name, but I don't find any of them on the typical streaming platforms like Ournia or even on Izlanzik, which specializes in Middle Atlas Amazigh music. There a number of clips, however, on YouTube. Unlike in live performances like the one above, most of the studio recordings take place with an ensemble augmented by other instruments including, you guessed it, a keyboard bass.
On this tape, the studio has "chaâbified" the songs not only by using additional instruments, but also by adding instrumental "refrains" to the arrangements. The first 4 tracks of this tape each begin with a short instrumental section that features a melody played by synth strings and synth banjo (track 1) or flute (tracks 2-4). This melody is, in each case, unrelated to the sung melody of the song (other than being in the same melodic mode). Once the melody is played once or twice, the synth strings drop out and the live, scratchy Amazigh viola enters, playing the actual sung melody. After a couple iterations of this melody, Ouaboud enters, singing, followed by the female lead after a couple of verses. After a few back-and-forth verses between the two singers, the synth strings and banjo or flute return, playing the instrumental refrain from the opening of the song:
Even with these chaâbi tropes, the album still highlights the timbres of the scratchy viola and the buzzy bendir. In contrast to the first 4 tracks, the album closes with a short track that recalls the excitement of the live setting by losing the synth strings, ramping up the tempo, and letting the bendir come to the front of the mix in all of its syncopated glory! (Stream Track 5 below.)
Ouaboud Mohamed أعبود محمد Tasjilat Igly cassette 5/08/2010 تسجيلات اگلي
If you read my blogposts, you know I'm not always a fan of the keyboard bass that became prevalent in the mid 1990s in Moroccan chaâbi music. Full disclosure - I am a bass player, so my personal preference is for the sound of the bass guitar, operated by a specialist in that instrument, rather than the sound of a keyboard bass, operated by the left pinky finger of a keyboard player who is concentrating on various chord pads and synthetic voice timbres.
That being said, a good keyboardist knows how to excel in all areas, and I often set myself up to eat my own words, so here's a really great chaâbi tape from Said Ould El Houate that uses the trappings of early 21st century chaâbi production to good effect. Yes, it has keyboard bass, but it's in the pocket, funky, and not monotonous. Yes, it has autotuned vocals, but the female backup vocals sound awesome that way. Yes, it has applause from a fake audience connecting each track to the next, but it actually makes for nice segues. Above all, the musical textures remain rich, between Said's grainy vocals and scratchy viola, and the occasional percussive oud or qarqaba to kick the energy up to the next level.
We featured an early, fully acoustic tape of Said Ould El Houate a few weeks ago, but he really made his name with recordings that sound like this one. Enjoy!
Said Ould El Houate سعيد ولد الحوات Volume 3 Production Said El Houate Vision cassette late 2000s/early 2010s
1) Bnat El Koliya بنات الكلية 2) Waleft Chrab والفت الشراب 3) Ktab Liya Nerâak كتاب ليا نرعاك
4) Al Âita Al Âmaala العيطة العمالة 5) Wahda Tlouhek Lwahda وحدة تلوحك لوحدة 6) Kob Sek Alach Nwasek كب السيك 7) Dawaqni Lhoub Aâdabou دوقني الحب اعذابو 8) Al Saken Al Ârbi Al Bouhali الساكن العربي البوهالي
Here's a tape by a young Jamal Eddine Said Elhouate, known commonly these days as Said Ould El Houate. The singer and viola player was born in 1968 in Casablanca. His real name is Jamal Eddine Said, and he was nicknamed ould el houate (son of the fishmonger) because his father worked at the port [1]. He rose to fame in the 2000s and 2010s with a chaabi style rooted in aita.
This album dates from the mid 1990s, and it benefits from the simple production values of the time. This is the simple and satisfying combination of a scratchy viola, a couple of tightly strung bendirs, Said's lead vocal, and some shikhate singing response vocals. Most recordings you find of Said Ould El Houate date from the 2000s and later, when it becomes hard to find chaabi recordings without a keyboard bass. This older style is refreshing, sort of in the vein of Abdelaziz Stati. Like Stati, Said appears to be an aficionado of aita. He has spent time in Safi learning and reviving old songs from the Abda variety of aita [1].
I was surprised to see the song title "Koubaily Baba" on this cassette. The name is reminiscent of Gnawa songs "Koubaily Bala" and "Koubaily Mama". Said's song does not sound like either of those songs, but the lyrics explicitly reference possession, Gnawa and Baba Mimoun. The music evokes Jilala trance music, with the bendirs playing a very syncopated pattern where drum strokes rarely coincide with the beat. So this track is a chaâbi evocation of a Jilala approach to Gnawa spirits.
Said Ould El Houate remains active and popular today. You can stream many of his albums at Ournia and a few on Spotify. And you can find lots of content on his Youtube channel.
Jamal Eddine Said Elhouate جمال الدين سعيد الحوات Sawt Ennachat cassette صوط النشاط mid 1990s
1) Essamra Qilini - السمرة قيليني 2) Mal Ezzine Tghayer - مال الزين اتغير 3) Ma Bin Lila ou Nhar Lhubb Tghayer - ما بين ليلة و نهار الحب اتغير 4) Daq Alhal - داق الحال Koubaili Baba - كبيلي بابا 5) Moulay Abdellah Ben Lhoucine - مولاي عبد الله بن لحسين
Here's a sampler from the label Sawt Bab Mansour out of Meknes. 4 long tracks each by a different artist. This was released in the sunny spring of 2001 when Orchestre Hamri scored a smash hit with "Samaoui". The song remains popular today. On revisiting the tape, I recognized another song, "Soussia", that is something of a standard at Moroccan parties (at least at the ones I attend in the San Francisco Bay Area). The two songs are quite different, but they share something in common - they both exist within the realm of Moroccan chaabi music, but refer (sometimes with lyrics, sometimes with musical tropes, and sometimes with both) to musical traditions and bodily experiences not native to the chaabi dance floor.
SAMAOUI
In spring 2001, this song was everywhere in Morocco, coming out of every tape deck, played at every wedding. I even heard Hassan Dariouki's aita haouzia group sing it at a soiree for a bunch of ethnomusicologists in Tangier!
In the early days of Moroccan Tape Stash, I wrote about the early 2000s wave of chaâbi hits that made reference to trance or trance brotherhoods:
"I don't mean pop versions of Gnawa or Jilala songs. Rather, I mean NEW songs with lyrics referring to the spirits or to the experience of trance.
What struck me as odd was that most of these songs made no musical
reference to trance music of the Gnawa, Jilala or other groups. Rather,
they fit the basic mold of chaâbi songs, ready to slip into the repertoire of a wedding band with a viola player and a nicely dressed lead singer"
In retrospect, Al Hamri's "Samaoui / Ha Huma Jaw", while featuring smooth smooth vocals and moderne orchestral string glissandos, does actually make some musical references to the trance traditions. The bendir frame drum is being played in the loopy, topsy-turvy, syncopated way that Jilala musicians play it. The solo viola (as opposed to the orchestral strings) has the unusual processed, throbbing sound featured in Said Senhaji's hit "Aicha al Mejdouba" which, as I noted previously, resembles the throb of the Jilala gasba flute. And the cymbals of the tar tambourine are being played in a way that resembles the qarqaba metal clackers used by Jilala and Gnawa musicians. It's still to my ear a strange juxtaposition:
And yet... the song is undeniably catchy! Our local Moroccan DJ played it at the most recent party I attended, and the crowd ate it up! On the dance floor, everyone sang along "Wa Samaoui / Allah idawi / Aw s7ab el 7aaaaaaal". Samaoui is one of the entities invoked during Gnawa ceremonies. "Oh Samaoui / God heals / Oh friends of the traaaaaance / Bring the incense / bring the charcoal burner / I want to trance". Of course, none of us did trance - there was no incense, no ritual specialist, no guinbri, so it was probably for the best. And yet there we were, miming some of the gestures of trance, mouthing signifiers of trance, to a simulacrum of some of the sounds of trance music. And we enjoyed it, like we did 19 summers ago!
SOUSSIA
Another staple of our local Moroccan parties is the second song on this tape, here called "Soussia". The term soussia is a noun/adjective that refers to something or someone (female) from the Moroccan Souss region. I don't know whether there is an "original" version of this song, but if there is, I'm guessing this is not it. I've never known a proper title for the song - I just think of it as "A Mwi Lalla", or "that Berber-sounding song that gets sung at non-Berber parties".
In this version, sung by Mustapha Baidou, a metal percussion instrument sounds like a naqqus, drums sound like those used in ahwach
performances, melody is based in the Soussi pentatonic scales. Yet the
lead singer has that smooth delivery of a wedding band singer, and we
again hear orchestral string phrases. And at the end of the track, the
music shifts into typical chaabitaârida riffing, dropping the pentatonic mode and the naqqus sound.
A quick Google search for chaabi songs called "Soussia" revealed not the same song, but different songs that featured similarly Soussi-styled melodies (pentatonic) and musical tropes (drum timbres, naqqus-sounding percussion, sometimes a synth banjo), typically with lyrics in darija (Moroccan Arabic). An example:
As "Samaoui" invites dancers to simulate the hair-flipping, head-bopping of Jilala or Gnawa trance on a chaabi dance floor, when "Soussia" songs get played, dancers' movements immediately shift from the hips to the shoulders, simulating the style of an ahwach dance.
WEDDINGS, PARTIES, ANYTHING
Trance- and Soussi-styled songs make sense in the repertoire of a well-rounded Moroccan urban Arabophone wedding/party band. When you're playing at a party that goes on for hours, you want to be able to vary things up and pace the event. Wedding parties usually start off with slow and stately music to welcome and ease people into the event. So a wedding band should know at least one or two songs from the Andalusi and/or melhun repertoire to provide this function, as well as some long-form chanson moderne classics from the likes of Abdelwahab Doukkali or Abdelhadi Belkhayat. Wedding musicians don't need to be experts in those repertoires - just need to do a passable job on a couple of songs. They will probably throw in some well-known Middle Eastern hits from Egypt or Lebanon early on, to mix up the groove and allow dancers to mix up their moves. But eventually the floor succumbs to the inexorable pull toward theinfectious chaabi beat.
Chaabi (literally, "popular"), is a wide field, that ranges from urbane Andalusi melodies to country aita-based melodies and regional varieties, from simmering slow jams to raucous, explosive bangers, from Houcine Slaoui classics from the 1940s to Hamid Zahir hits from the 1960s to Najat Aatabou hits from the 1980s to Daoudi hits from the 2000s to the latest offerings on YouTube. The viola and the darbuka reign supreme. Ouds may or may not appear. (Of course a keyboard can give you that plucked-string sound, and double as a qanun
zither, a banjo, or a horn section too.) Chords were once provided by
electric guitars, but those have given way to keyboards as well. But whatever the origins or musical textures of songs may be, chaabi performers slot them into musical suites that inevitably end up with the climactic, raucous, joyful 6/8 groove.
Musics come in and out of the urban wedding band repertoire as the years roll on. When rai music was popular in the 1990s, you sometimes heard a few rai songs at weddings. I'm told that in the 1980s, wedding bands would sometimes have some Bollywood tunes ready (or perhaps some faux-Bollywood-styled chaabi tunes?) in case the bride's array of costumes included an Indian-styled outfit. In my day, said array typically included a Berber-styled outfit, so some Berber-styled songs come in very handy in the repertoire for the moment the bride switches to that outfit.
So "Soussi" songs serve a function within a wedding band repertoire, accompanying a particular moment in the itinerary of the bride's clothing trajectory. On another level, they release the dance floor, temporarily, to a different way of celebrating, a different way for the body to let loose and move. This is also the case with chaabi pop-trance songs like "Samaoui" - the dance floor is given over, momentarily, to trance movements and lyrics, letting people groove and move in a different way. But the chaabi imperative eventually brings the floor back from these excursions. Both "Samaoui" and "Soussia" on this tape finish up with an exit from Soussi- and trance-styled lyrics and sounds, bringing it all back home chaabi-style.
Weddings, parties, anything - and trance and Soussi jams a speciality...
Sawt Bab Mansour presents صوت باب منصور يقدم Samaoui السماوي Sawt Bab Mansour cassette, 2001
Al Hamri الحمري
1) Samaoui السماوي
2) Ha Huma Jaw هاهما جاو
3) Shera3 oul Qanun الشراع و القانون
Mustapha Baidou مصطفى بايدو
1) Soussia السوسية
Âbd al Hamid عبد الحميد
1) Almajdoubiate المجدوبيات
2) Sidi ouel Qalb M3akoum سيدي والقلب معاكم
3) Galuli Ghir Ensah كلولي غير انساه
Al Berbouchi البربوشي
1) 3lach A Lalla علاش الالة
2) Ouahia Almra Ouahia واهيا المراة واهيا
After the success of Nouveau 92, Najat Aâtabou did not return to the oud and bendir format of her earlier hits. Rather, she adopted various other instrumental combinations, moving eventually toward a more mainstream chaâbi sound.
I own copies of some of these cassettes (without j-cards), and have lost a few along the way. Also, some of these are available to stream or purchase online. So I'll mainly post here links to existing web resources and try to piece together her discography between Nouveau 92 and Attention Monsieur (2000).
Souaret (1993)
This album came out as a cassette on Edition Hassania in 1993. My copy went missing long ago, but I believe the j-card may have had this photo, which accompanies Amazon's version:
The production sounds similar to that of Nouveau 92, using the same funky synth bass on many tracks. I remember at the time being a bit disappointed with the album, feeling it was less hard-hitting than Nouveau 92, and contained no super-catchy single. Listening to it again now, though, it sounds like a breath of fresh air! It augments the unusual synth and viola texture of Nouveau 92 and fills it out with a more organic early-90s chaâbi orchestra: live strings, bendirs, full drum kit, and an occasional electric guitar. It's a more organic, orchestral overall sound. (Admittedly, I'm a sucker for the chaâbi sound of that era.)
And Najat's singing is spectacular. Those folks over at Edition Hassania really knew how to record her - whether accompanied by a simple oud-and-bendir ensemble or a full orchestra, her voice remains powerful and startling.
This is, I believe, the last album that Najat released on Edition Hassania. I used to have a copy of the cassette. Like the previous albums, this one is also driven by the viola. But the style is different here. Rather than a chanson moderne style of viola playing, hearkening to the smooth sounds of the modern Arab orchestra, here we have a straight-up dance-inducing chaâbi fiddle! The overall ensemble is more simple - bendirs, some oud and melodic keyboard here and there, and what sounds like a drum machine (hi-hat and some fills). Though a return to oud and bendir-s is nice, the chaâbi viola really dominates the mix and doesn't quite work for me. That being said, the tune "Baadou Lhih" is awesome and became part of her live repertoire.
The album's 6 tracks were remastered and released in the US as part of the Rounder compilation CD "Country Girls and City Women", which is out of print. It's worth finding a used copy of the CD - the booklet includes a nice essay, translations of all the song lyrics into English, and an interview with Najat. I can't find any streaming or download options for the album. Here's a YouTube playlist of the album's songs:
Sabara (1996)
I had a dub of this album, and I remember it being on label called something like "Safa Disque". (It wasn't the well-established Sonia Disque, with whom she would later record.) The leadoff track "Aatani Bedhar", also known as "Mali Ana Ma 3andi Zhar" was a smash hit - smooth chaâbi groups were covering it, and with its singalong chorus of "Wa-a-a-a-ayli", it was an instant classic, and one of Najat's biggest ever hits. I love it!
It was around this time that studio-produced chaabi in Morocco started to sound a bit too perfect and precise for my ears. Though rhythms were still driving and percussive, drum sets had given way to drum machines and programming, which could feel mechanical. Electric guitars for rhyhmic and chordal accompaniment were rarely found anymore, replaced by more versatile synthesizers, which could also add a variety of melodic textures. Even oud-s and violas began to sound more processed and perfect. I tend to like my chaâbi (and most music) a little on the sloppy side - I appreciate being able to hear the human interactions and imperfections.
That said, when all the elements come together in a studio production, it can be great, and that's the case throughout this album. The oud remains prominent in the mix, the real or synth strings (I can't always tell which) support without being overbearing, the rhythm section pops and crackles, the synth bass keeps things funky and in the pocket, and Najat and the backup choir sound great! A mega-post on the ARAB TUNES blog has this album, and many others by Najat!
Also, here'a YouTube playlist of the whole album:
Souvenir (1998)
According to this interview, Souvenir, like its predecessor Sabara, was produced by Najat's former husband Hassan Dikouk. It has a similar overall sound to Sabara, and Najat seems to have comfortably settled into a mainstream chaâbi setting. To my ears the sound is a little less punchy - a bit more emphasis on the viola and less on the oud, and the vocals seem more subdued. But when it works, like in "El Aati Houwa Allah" and "Daba Ytem El Nachat", it still kicks.
ARAB TUNES has this one as well, and here's the whole album on YouTube:
Et Oui Mon Ami, Parle Je T'écoute (1999)
My cassette copy of this (get it HERE) contains a track not available on streaming platforms - a spoken message from Najat to her public, presenting her new cassette, on which, she says, she has tried as always to move chaabi song forward, and that the most important measure of its success is "your entertainment, clapping, and pleasure".
I don't know what prompted the inclusion of this rather apologetic message. Perhaps her moves into mainstream chaabi were criticized by some sectors of the public. Or perhaps she was nervous about the leadoff track, which has a distinct Latin feel and a light programmed percussion track, straying further away from her roots than usual. (This was the era of Amr Diab's smash Egyptian hit "Habibi ya Nour el Ain". Unlike that track, though, Najat's does not include the soon-to-be-ubiquitous-in-Arabic-pop flamenco guitar.) On streaming versions of the album (like the YouTube playlist embedded below, or Amazon's version), there is a bonus track - a chill lounge remix of the title song, with light funk electric guitar and Middle Eastern strings replacing the punchy synth horns of the original.
Outside of the title track (which was not a big hit), the rest of the album features a pretty standard chaâbi texture, though a bit more sparse than the previous two albums. I couldn't quite put my ear on what was different at first. I heard a viola and a synth banjo, some restrained programmed rhythm with a live darbuka. There is a funky synth bass again, though it's very low in the mix as compared to the previous albums. The really key difference here, though is that there is NO BENDIR! Throughout all of her albums, whether based around the oud, the viola, or a full orchestra, the one constant is the presence of the buzzy bendir! On this one, though, the only buzzy timbre you can hear is the occasional taarija. The low percussive tones, are not buzzy booms, but clean synth bass drums. Which is a weird idea, but it sort of works for me.
The viola-centered sound of this album hearkens to 1995's Taqi Fia Allah, but with punchier rhythm and overall sound. Again, the chaabi viola isn't my favorite instrument to hear with Najat Aâtabou's voice, but this ain't bad.
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I saw Najat Aâtabou do a concert in Casablanca in 1999, and the only songs she did from any of these 5 albums were "Mali Ana Ma 3andi Zhar", from Sabara and "Baadou Lhih" from Taqi Fia Allah. But although these albums may not be packed with hits, there's worthwhile material on all of them. My ear for Moroccan lyrics isn't developed enough to critically assess Najat's 1990s songs in comparison to the earlier hits that brought her to fame. A lot of the same themes seem to pop up - complaints about romantic relationships, trying to keep things cool with mom, patience, acceptance, and calling out hypocrites. Her turn toward a mainstream chaâbi sound strikes me as a way for her songs of support and solidarity to resonate with a broader community of Moroccan sisters. At any rate that's my interpretation for now. Am happy to hear other opinions.
Wishing a blessed Ramadan to you all. Thank you for continuing to visit, even though I seem to only post about Najat Aâtabou these days! I promise I'll get some other stuff cued up soon...
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UPDATE: Here is another Najat album from the 90s that I didn't know about:
Nouveau 92! A new sound and a new look for Najat Aâtabou. And a huge hit with "Wahdi Feddar" ("Alone at Home"), a.k.a. "Goul El Hak El Mout Kaina" ("Tell the Truth... Death is Real"), "Hadi Kedba Bayna" ("This is an Obvious Lie"), "Kedba Bayna, or "Hai Hai Hai".
New sound: We've shared several of Najat Aâtabou's early, oud- and bendir-driven albums here at Moroccan Tape Stash. (See here.)
That stripped-down sound launched her to stardom in Morocco in the
1980's. (The one exception to this formula, in her early years, was a
fascinating orchestral album in the chanson moderne
style.) With "Nouveau 92", Najat went in a different sonic direction: the viola
leads the melodic accompaniment and a funky synthesizer bass underpins a
synth string section, while the rhythm section is driven by a darbuka
and what sounds like a hi-hat. (If a full drum set is present, it's
being played very lightly.) It's an unusual sound - not your typical
viola-driven chaâbi texture. Top it off with Najat's fierce vocals, and you have something nouveau!
Huge hit: "Hadi Kedba Bayna" was an instant classic! The refrain features the repeated line "Hai Hai Hai", which is both a great singalong and an interjection expressing disbelief or annoyance, something like "whoa" or "oi" in English. And the verses were basically rhyming couplets, calling out her man for cheating on her and then lying about it. It's the type of song that can easily be incorporated into any group's repertoire and to which other singers can add new, amusing, and thematically appropriate lyrics.
"Nouveau 92" was the first Najat Aâtabou album I ever heard. When I first visited Morocco in 1992, the album was huge, especially "Kedba Bayna". The album was at one point published on CD in France (now out of print). "Kedba Bayna" was included (as "Just Tell Me The Truth") on the 1995 US compilation Morocco: Crossroads of Time (also now out of print).
In 2006, I had returned from a summer in Morocco and was watching a ball game on American TV, when during a Budweiser commercial I heard the violin riff from "Kedba Bayna" over a techno beat. Fearing I was having hallucinations, I incredulously emailed some folks and found that "Kedba Bayna" had been sampled in the song "Galvanize", released the previous year by the Chemical Brothers, featuring Q-Tip! That, at least, is still in print! (And you can find the commercial on YouTube.)
Reissue notes, for the discographically inclined: Here at Moroccan Tape Stash, I usually give you the running order of tracks exactly as they appear on the tapes. Sometimes this running order differs from what is printed on the j-card. I usually prefer to be faithful to the way the tapes were heard in thousands of Moroccan cassette players rather than the way one person transcribed the song titles when the j-card was going to print. For this album, though, I am going to go with the j-card running order. The copy I'm sharing here is not my original 1992 copy of the cassette - that one is long gone - but rather one I obtained several years later (probably in the late 1990s). I have a strong memory of this album beginning with "Wash Nsiti?", and of "Wahdi Feddar (Kedba Bayna)" being buried somewhere in the middle of the side, as is listed on the j-card. On this cassette, however, "Kedba Bayna" leads off side A.
I'm guessing that once "Kedba Bayna" became a big hit, the song order was switched so that it would appear at the beginning of the cassette, where it could be more easily found. In those days, if you went shopping for cassettes and wanted a particular song, the tape seller would pop the cassette into a deck and play it, so you knew you were getting the correct tape. That's much easier to do when the song isn't somewhere in the middle of the tape.
So... I've resequenced the running order to match what is on the j-card, because that is closer to my memory of my original 1992 copy than running order of the copy I digitized here. (And also I like it better.) For the record, the running order on this late 90's copy is: A1-Wahdi Feddar, A2 Sir Dmou3i, A3 Wayli A Lalla, A4 Ya 3achiri, B1-Wach Nsiti?, B2-Parle je t'ecoute, B3-Marad al 3ali.
Najat Aâtabou نجاة اعتابو Nouveau 92 جديد Edition Hassania cassette EH1460 (1992)
1) Wash Nsiti? واش نسيتي؟ 2) Sir Dmou3i سير دموعي 3) Wahdi Feddar (Hadi Kedba Banya)
وحدي في الدار (هادي كدبة باينة) 4) Wayli A Lalla وايلي الالّة 5) Parle Je T'Ecoute 6) Ya 3achiri يا عشيري 7) Marad al 3ali ماراد العالي
Watch out, Mister! Najat Aâtabou sez: jealousy and suspicion will give you high blood pressure!
This album dates from 2000. It wasn't a huge success, but I enjoyed it at the time, especially the title track. In those days, Najat Aatabou was married to musician/producer Hassan Dikouk, who produced some of her hits of the 90s including the great 1996 smash Mali Ana Ma ândi Zhar. I believe the relationship had its ups and downs before they eventually divorced. (According to this 2016 interview with Dikouk, they split in 2002. However, they were still performing together as late as this clip from New Year's 2004-5.) This album apparently comes from one of the down times - she actually calls out Hassan by name at the end of verse one, substituting "A Hassan" for the anonymous "A Monsieur" (2:14).
The album, like most of Najat's, 1990s albums, has a mainstream chaâbi sound to it: viola, keyboards, and darbuka support her always strong vocals, along with a male response choir. I don't know why she chose to move away from the oud- and bendir-driven sounds that characterized her earlier albums. Whatever it was, her 1992 album in that vein was wildly successful, containing the smash Hadi Kedba Bayna, and subsequent albums followed a similar format. (That album used to be available on CD, but seems to be long out of print. Perhaps I'll digitize my tape copy for y'all - it's a good one!)
Najat Aâtabou - نجاة اعتابو Attention a Monsieur - أطونسيو أمسيو Edition Sonya Disque cassette T.C. 1780 (2000)
1) Attention a Monsieur أطونسيو أمسيو / Avec Moi أڤيك موا
2) A Lalla Hadri ‘Aynik ألالة حدري عينيك / Mali ‘ala Hali ماي على حالي
3) Bla Ma Tkdeb ‘Aliya بلا ماتكدب علي
4) Moulay ‘Abdellah Ben Hsein عبد الله بن احسين
5) Nta Lli Hayrtini أنت اللي حيرتيني
Here's a fantastic Stati tape that Lalla Hafida brought me in 2016. Down deep in the âita groove, this is some great stuff. I wish I knew the identity of the shikha singer featured here along with Stati - she's fabulous.
The music and the photo are clearly much older than 2016. The cassette number 20/2000 indicates that it was released in the year 2000, but I suspect it's a reissue of an earlier album. (He looks very young in the photo.)
For those of you observing Ramadan (starting at the end of this week), here's wishing you a month of peace, blessing, and remembrance.
Stati (Al Fannan Abdelaziz Stati) - الفنان عبد العزيز الستاتي Sawt Chaouia cassette 20/2000
1) La Tghib 3lia - لله لا تغيب علي
2) Lawah Ya Lebnia - لواه يا لبنية
3) Raqsa - رقصة
4) Jayeb Rou7i Lik Hdia - جايب روحي ليك هدية
5) Za3eri - زعري / Raqsa 3la Lqa3da - رقصة على القعدة
Well whaddya know? The Stash yields another Tagada tape! This dates from around 1992, when Mohamed Louz was still a member of the group. (For some historical info on the group, see our previous Tagada post.)
I wrote previously that Tagada's folk-revival approach was rooted in the âita. This album stretches things a bit, while maintaining a core texture of viola driving the melody, male group or antiphonal vocals and a bendir-driven percussion section.
"Lalla Lgada" leads things off in a typical âita mode, though with what sounds like scissors hearkening back to the âbidat errma. The strange "Ach Ngoul Lik" leads off with a pentatonic viola solo somewhat evoking the amarg tradition of the Soussi rwayes, but then the rhythm enters, featuring a Gnawaguinbri (and some faint qraqeb, I think). It sounds sort of Nass el Ghiwan-ish, except for the continued presence of the viola, which pulls the sound in a different direction. "Âyyitini" goes full Soussi, adding a banjo or lotar and naqqus for that rwayes vibe, though the singing is in Arabic, not Tachelhit.
Finally "Hada Hali" returns viola and bendir to the center of the texture with a real deep âita feel - angular bendir-s, alternating solo vocals evoking shikha song, sliding eventually into trance-based and trance-evoking lyrics, idiomatic viola riffing recalling the sweaty middle-of-the-night when the âita groove gets so heavy and REAL that it crosses over into that zone where all one can do is call prayers upon the Prophet and the saints, hope for deliverance and submit to the groove. At this point in the song, Tagada incorporate the guinbri and qraqeb again. This sounds nothing like Gnawa music, though, resembling much more the saken trance songs of theâitatradition. But with Gnawa signifiers added for intensification? Mixing these elements together is a weird, improbable idea, to which I'm sort of opposed on principle, and yet somehow... it kind of works! Well played, Tagada, well played!
Tagada (تگدة) Edition Hassania cassette EH 1462
01 Lalla Lgada (لالة الگادة)
02 Ach Ngoul Lik (اش نگول ليك)
03 Âyyitini (عيتني)
04 Hada Hali (هذا حالي)
I recently inherited a box full of cassettes with no j-cards. The second cassette I popped in is an album by the AWESOME electric-guitar-drum-kit-and-shikhat group Noujoum al Houz, who were featured in one of the earliest posts on this blog, almost exactly five years ago!
The music of this group remains one of my favorite Moroccan sounds of all time. I've not heard another group doing quite what these folks did back in the late 80s/early 90s. The songs and singing are straight-up âita and women's chaâbi styles. The accompaniment just happens to replace the viola with an electric guitar and to move the bendir-taârija continuum of interlocking rhythms to a drum kit.
Having a guitar take the riffing melodic lead role (usually played by a viola or an oud) - is something I've not heard elsewhere inMoroccan chaâbi. Most electric guitars one hears in chaâbi (and one rarely hears them any more) are relegated to strumming rhythmic patterns and playing chords along with melodies that never used chords before (like in this old Orchestre Asri cassette, h/t Snap Crackle & Pop). This chordal support function in chaâbi was taken over by keyboards by the early 90s. One was more likely to hear melodic picking of electric guitars in Berber music (Moulay Ahmed Elhassani, Mohammed Amrrakchi), or in some of the Ghiwanesque folk revival groups (Oudaden, early Tagada).
As for the drum kit, well it does remain in chaâbi music, but it's never as in-your-face as you'll hear here. (And I mean "in-your-face" in a good way!) In most chaâbi music, the drum kit seems to play a supporting role in the overall texture of the ensemble. It doesn't drive the rhythm section, but rather provides support to the darbuka and bendirs (like dig this Daoudia live clip - you can barely hear the drum kit behind the bendirs, qarqabas, and darbuka, and it never does any fills.) But for a minute in the 80s and early 90s, the drum kit took a fantastic role in a few chaâbi recordings, stepping to the front of the mix, tumbling and accenting in a really exciting way. (In addition to these Noujoum el Haouz recordings, I'm thinking also of these bitchin' Mahmoud Guinia recordings and this excellentanonymous chaâbi tape.)
Today I'm offering a twofer. One is the newly-found cassette on the Kawakib label.
The second, let's call it a bonus album, is the actual tape that matches this j-card that I uploaded with my original post 5 years ago:
I never uploaded the actual tape that goes with this j-card because it is severely damaged. Over half of side A is barely audible due to some magnetic weirdness. Bits of side B suffer from this as well. Don't download this until you've heard the other tapes. If, like me, you can't get enough of them, you will happily sit through the magnetic weirdness in order to spend a few more minutes with this fantastic group.
I've been able to find no information online about the group or its leader, Lâyyadi Abdeljalil. I'm guessing they were a purely Marrakchi phenomenon, since both of the labels they appeared on, Sawt el Mounadi and al Kawakib, were based in Marrakech. Hope to find out more about them some day. In the meantime, enjoy!!
Noujoum el Haouz (نجوم الحوز) - Sawt el Kawakib cassette (ca. 1990)
1) Daouli Ghzali
2) A Moul L3aoud A Wlidi
3) Track 03 4) Sayh Ya Bu Derbala (see YouTube clip above)
5) Ayma Sabri Llah
6) Track 06
7) Suwwelu Moul Dar
Noujoum el Haouz (نجوم الحوز) - Tansiq ou Tanshit Lâyyadi Abdeljalil (تنسيق و تنشيط العيادي عبد الجليل) Sawt el Mounadi (صوت المنادي) cassette, ca. 1993
01) Dami
Alf Lila Ou Lila
Husa ya Husa
Waye Wa Houara
02) Ila Bghiti Temchi Ghir Sir
Ezzine oul Jamal
Lilwajed Lmra Zwina
This tape has major audio problems on side 1 (the first 13 minutes), and a few on side 2 as well. But the music is so good, I'm uploading the whole thing anyway.
The group Tagada arose in the 1970s alongside other Arabophone "folk revival" groups like Nass el Ghiwane, Jil Jilala, and Lemchaheb. When I first heard Tagada in the 1990s, they struck me as a bit apart from those groups. Where NG and JJ riffed on traditional songs and genres to create new and memorable original songs and styles, Tagada's repertoire sounded to me like straight-up folk material, delivered in a manner faithful to some kind of earlier, more rustic aesthetic.
Tagada's folk sources come primarily from the âita repertoire. Here's some early Tagada from the '70s. With the banjo (which they later abandoned), this recording has a very Ghiwani vibe, similar to Nass el Ghiwane's aita-based classic L-Hassada:
I haven't found much of this early Tagada available online. I would LOOOOVE to hear what THIS version of the group sounds like:
Oh joy, I found some - here's an amazing vintage 9 minute video clip, with electric guitar, even!
According to group member Dekhouche Ahmed Roudani, Tagada, like Nass el Ghiwane, came out of the theatre troupe of Tayeb Saddiki. Troupe members Omar Sayed, Boujemâa H'gour, and Larbi Batma split from Saddiki's group after the production of the play "Al Harraz" to form Nass el Ghiwane, while the future Tagada members remained with Saddiki's group for the next production, "Maqamat Badii Ezzaman al Hamadani" (1971).
In the Tagada I remember from the early 90s, the viola had eclipsed the banjo/guitar as the primary
melodic instrument in the ensemble. This amounted basically to a
stripped-down folk-chaâbi sound: viola and percussion (sometimes with a plucked banjo or oud) with âita-derived
call/response and group singing, without the modern sheen of keyboards
or guitars and without the sexy seduction of female shikhat singers.
Tagada usually performs dressed in jellaba robes. This is similar to what would be worn by traditional male folk or popular percussion ensembles like âbidat errma or tkitiqat
groups, and in contrast to both the 70s folk revival look (either with
groovy vests or the outlaw cowboy look of the album cover above) and thewell-dressed-chaâbi-orchestra-lead-singer-with-a-suit-and-tie
look. Despite their use of traditional dress and musical sources, one non-traditional practice does stand out - Mohamed Louz's unusual drum configurations: neither the double pair of tamtams (in the "Yahli" clip above) nor the conga/bongo combination (in the "Rgibaoua" clip) are traditional for Moroccan folk music - these appear to be Louz's own idiosyncratic configurations.
The only Tagada-related tape in my collection dates to 1995. I always thought it was by the regular Tagada group, but now that I'm taking a closer look at it, I see that it reads Majmo3at Louz Tagada (Ensemble Louz Tagada). The photo on the j-card features prominent photos of Louz (bottom right) and the violinist (bottom left) who were both previously with Tagada. According to Izza Genini in the film "Tambours Battant", Mohamed Louz split from Tagada in the early 1990s, though he reunited with them for a live session in the film:
Inasmuch as I can tell from YouTube videos, Louz's Tagada group and the regular Tagada group are both quite active still today. The regular Tagada had an insidiously catchy hit back in the late '90s or early 2000's with "Ach Kayn Ach Kayn", which remains a crowd-pleaser:
