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Sahra, a wide-ranging celebration of the performance culture of the Arab world, went on at the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas on November 21, 2009. It was an event of tremendous scope and ambition encompassing the musical virtuosity of Palestinian composer and maestro Simon Shaheen leading a small ensemble, the visual dazzle of traditional costumed dance by the Adam Basma Dance Company, a segment honoring two legends of film—veteran Egyptian actress Nabila Ebeed and the late film maker Mustafa Akaad—and ultimately the show’s headliners, three of the most exciting popular singers of North Africa and the Middle East today, Rida Al Abudlla (Iraq), Assala (Syria), and Khaled (Alegeria). It was a show that could not possibly be constrained to the planned three-and-a-half hours. (In fact, it ran from about 8:40 to 1:40 AM!) But no matter. What will be remembered is the spectacle and spirit of the night, which Khaled punctuated as only he can, with passion, funk and verve that has rightly earned him the title The King of Rai. On this night, he was the king of Vegas as well.
The event was, on one level, a benefit for two organizations serving children of the Arab world, NAAMA (National Arab American Medial Association) and ACCESS (Arab Community Center for Economic and Social Services).These are excellent causes and the fact that they benefitted was a major factor in encouraging these artists to travel so far for a single concert.Further funds will be raised from broadcasts in the Middle East and eventual DVD sales.
The caliber of the show was immediately evident in the staging, with towering arches, palm trees, and flowing sashes draping from on high at either side of the stage, also three massive video screens, and glimmering, golden faux chandeliers looming above the crowd. Throughout the program, orange, blue, lavender, red, and white lights played across these surfaces to enchanting effect. Simon Shaheen and his ensemble played amid golden orange hues. The piece they chose was a searing, introspective violin feature called “The Wall,” which Shaheen composed after a visit among orphan children in Bethlehem, within view of construction on the wall separating Palestinian lands from Israel. The politics of Shaheen’s passion were not overt, but understood by all.
The performances of the headliners were all impressive, though they also illustrated the challenges of bringing large Arab acts to America. Rida Al Abdulla is a popular singer with deep training in classical music and a harrowing back story of oppression in and escape from Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. He normally performs with an orchestra of 32, and had in fact received travel visas for most of his group. Then, strangely, a U.S. official in Syria summoned the musicians and cancelled those visas, leaving the singer, and Sahra producer Dawn Elder, in a tight spot. In the end, Rida traveled with just a few key musicians, notably his remarkable alto saxophonist Wisam Khassaf, and filled in the rest with excellent U.S.-based players and singers. During the performance, one sometimes heard instruments, and possibly voices, unseen on the stage. These “enhancements” could be overlooked though, especially when the live percussion section—mixing players from Iraq to Cuba to Austin, Texas—got cooking. In any case, most of the attention remained on Rida himself, who crooned and swooned with elegant passion throughout his 50-minute set.
Rida’s voice is soaring and ornamented, strong and lithe, though often conveying an anguished mood of sadness. In an interview, he told Afropop that his performance would not be considered a success unless he made people cry. Given his country’s history and his own, this is understandable, and judging from the welling emotions in the hall as he sang, he probably succeeded with many of those present. At the same time, Rida was a warm and engaging presence. At one point he left the grand heights of the stage and strolled through the crowd. He kept singing as he smiled at and was touched by adoring fans, and the spotlight followed him all the way. Rida’s blend of orchestral and choral lushness with keyboard pop is a sound unfamiliar to most Western listeners. To appreciate his recordings, most American world music fans will need to look past the production and focus on that voice. If he really wants to sell his CDs to this audience, Rida will need to reconsider his production approach, but in performance, the strength of his voice and his gentle aura carried the day.
Rida’s set ended suddenly and without fanfare, as though he were expecting to return for an encore. When he did not, the moment was a little awkward.
After the tribute to Nabila Ebeed and Mustafa Akaad—honored in a brief, fascinating video presentation—came intermission. Then Assala Nasri and her Cairo based band—who also perform as Wust el Balad—took the stage. A child star in Syria, and like Rida a trained classical singer, Assala has since moved on to the music production haven of Cairo, and her sound has come to incorporate a strong overlay of Middle Eastern and Persian Gulf (khaleeji) pop and other styles from jazz to flamenco. Her most ardent fans consider her the heir apparent to Fairuz, and indeed, when she sang lengthy solo introductions to a number of songs, her mellifluous, silky and rounded voice did evoke the Lebanese legend. Backed by her band, however, she mostly fell into a decidedly more fused pop realm. On an extended rubato introduction to one song, she played on the flamenco connection to great effect, interacting nicely with one of her two guitarists. When two later pieces fell into more pop flamenco grooves, the Spanish reference began to feel a bit overdone.
Assala is a tremendous singer, and she put forth a beautiful vocal harmony sound when joined by two male singers in her band. Her forays into international styles certainly provided variety. Her song “Hayati” with its light jazz style and buoyant declaration of freedom is quite winning. But one longed for a little more of the serious classical music of her youth and early career. At times it seemed that her material was not quite up to the level of the voice. Still, the set built well, and the crowd stayed with her for a good hour. Trouble came when she continued to announce her last song, and then sing another. Perhaps she was trying to avoid Rida’s fate of leaving the stage not to return, but the tactic began to try the patience of the audience. She responded to cries of “Khaled, Khaled,” with a coy solo rendition of Khaled’s hit “Didi,” and then went on with her program. It was a revealing moment. Everyone knew the show was running long. To go a little beyond her allotted time was certainly forgivable, but after some 90 minutes, the Syrian diva—and a diva she is—was definitely pushing her luck.
Khaled took the stage like a fresh wind, beginning cool and winding up, hit by hit, to an absolute frenzy rai ecstasy. The Adam Basma dancers joined him during the night’s signature song, “Sahra,” and performed their dance of veils. This joint presentation was unrehearsed, a time-saving improvisation that worked brilliantly. Khaled’s fans were the loudest and rowdiest, and he played them like the pro he his, accepting Algerian flags and a massive bouquet of flowers and using them to festoon the already festooned stage. By the time he and his cracking band tore into his megahit “Didi,” young men were on their feet and waving their arms in the air in an ecstatic show of support. When it came to the sweet, swooning “Aicha,” grown men were reduced to tears.
Khaled’s set was mostly hits, including just one song from his superb new album, Liberté. The joyful “El Harba Oui” and reggae-tinged “Ouelli el Darek” were standouts, but there were no weak links at all. Khaled benefitted from having his tried-and-true band with him, a difference with the others that showed clearly. He seemed utterly relaxed as he rallied an audience that had already absorbed two nights’ worth of music. Khaled’s charisma and energy were simply impossible to resist. It is no wonder that he has reached more non-Arab fans than just about any Arab singer. He has absorbed funk, reggae, rock and more, while never losing his essential sound and appeal. He may lack the training and musical virtuosity of some who shared the stage that night. But as an overall performer and a singer capable of stirring passions across stylistic and cultural divides, Khaled is unsurpassed, and at Sahra, he demonstrated this definitively.
Beyond the principles and their ensembles, Dawn Elder assembled a terrific lineup of potential collaborators for Sahra. Unfortunately, this array of talent was under-used. There was Afghani tabla virtuoso Salar Nader, Arabic music maestro and scholar A.J. Racy with his buzuq, one of the world masters of the Arabic ney flute as well as Western flute Bassam Saba, a chorus of six superb Lebanese vocalists with ties to the great Fairuz, a string section of top-flight players from as far afield as Sudan and Israel, fantastic percussionists including Luis Conte of Cuba, and then the vocalists: maestro Yousif Elmosley and Omar Benaga from Sudan, Andy of Iran, Grammy nominee K.C. Porter, Def Jam recording artist Karina Pasian, and a talented young Tunisian singer/bandleader, M.C. Rai. This is not even a complete list. To well exploit such a range of talent within the context of three bands from Iraq, Egypt, Algeria and France—some of them unaccustomed to making room for others—would have required considerably more rehearsal time and the firm hand of a determined and tactful musical director.
As it was, the three bands mostly did what they do. The Lebanese singers, percussionists and strings filled in for missing members of Rida Al Abdulla’s band. Salar Nader added tabla to a couple of Assala’s numbers, but he was the only collaborator heard in the longest of the three main sets. Khaled took best advantage of the possibilities at hand, welcoming the string section and an all American brass section to the stage. The brass kicked up the energy on boisterous songs like “Didi” and “Abdelkader.” Also, through the entire set, A.J. Racy played his buzuq alongside Khaled’s wonderful oud player Abdelouahed Zaim.
When it came time for the finale, John Lennon’s “Imagine,” Rida and Assala and their musicians were long gone from the arena, but everyone else took the stage—the strings and Lebanese chorus, Nader with his tablas, and all those guest singers, most of whom got a turn at the microphone with Khaled graciously directing the flow and the language shifted from English to Arabic to French and back to English with the whole chorus pouring on the emotion. This performance was very moving, in part because it was under-rehearsed. What one saw was an unprecedented gathering of artists from the Arab world and beyond, harmonizing, sharing, giving ground, making “love not war” in a favorite Khaled phrase. This concert was the product of much strain and struggle, and the final moment was beautiful. To say it might have been even more so is to state the obvious. The amazing thing is that it happened at all, and in Vegas! Imagine.
(You can read Banning’s blog posts from Las Vegas, November 19-23, 2009. In 2010, there will be a full-hour edition of Afropop Worldwide on Sahra including interviews with the headliners and songs from the historic concert.)
