Mazal Haï Mazal: Eight North African Tracks to Light Your Soul On Fire

2014 came and went too quickly. I wanted to post more often but as so frequently happens, life got in the way. In lieu of my more regular posts, I offer you, “Mazal Haï Mazal: Eight North African Tracks to Light Your Soul On Fire,” as an end of the year treat. These are eight (one for every night of Hanukkah) of my favorite Moroccan and Algerian tracks (mostly on vinyl but one on cassette) and articulate a range of Maghrebi Jewish sounds - from Andalusian to chaabi to a song about the atomic bomb! Feel free to stream, download, and share.

Consider the title of this end of the year Hanukkah mixtape an Arabic-Hebrew play on words. Indeed for most of the mid-century North African Jewish artists featured here, “mazal” always carried two meanings. In Arabic, mazal meant “still,” as in Lili Labassi’s “Mazal haï mazal” (S/he’s still alive) - a track beautifully presented on the Excavated Shellac blog. But so too did mazal recall the Hebrew for “luck” or “fortune,” a point made by Labassi’s disciple Blond Blond, who sang, “mazal, c’est la chance,” in what is perhaps the only Algerian Hanukkah song ever to be recorded commercially. I say all of this to convey the following: treat my take on Mazal Haï Mazal in both of these senses. Not only is this music “still alive” but so too should we remember that it is through a combination of fortune and luck (and all of our good graces) that it continues to live on.

One last point before we get to the music. Treat this as a soft launch of a crowd funding campaign to turn my private record collection into a public sound archive. On my shelves are historical audio gems that deserved to be shared and I want to make that happen as soon as possible. In other words, keep an eye out on this site in 2015!

Best wishes for the New Year!

The Algerian Jewish Soundscape

Bootleg Salim Halali LP found in Algiers.

Algeria’s Jewish past is often framed as one of contemporary invisibility. Jews are gone, synagogues have been converted into mosques, and still other visual markers of Jewish life all but effaced. Indeed, all of this is true. But since arriving in Algeria two weeks ago to do research on the North African music industry of the first half of the twentieth century I have wondered the following: What happens when we shift our focus to that of the aural? In other words, are Algerian Jews more present in the present if we replace vision for sound and the landscape for the soundscape? The answer, in short, is a resounding, “yes.”

Discussing the Algerian 78 era over coffee.

If one listens close enough, Jewish voices are everywhere in Algeria. One must only enter one of the myriad CD shops to catch the sounds of popular Jewish recording artists from more than half a century ago like Lili Boniche. Peek your head into a bric-a-brac shop in Oued Kniss and you will find a dust covered pile of records including the likes of Salim Halali and Lili Labassi. Catch an Andalusian performance at the National Theater (named for Mahieddine Bachetarzi, himself closely identified with Algerian Jewish musical impresarios of the past like Edmond Nathan Yafil) and you will hear a piece of the classical suite - and now an inextricable part of Algerian patrimony - once closely associated with Jewish legends like Mouzino and Sassi. Meet with an octogenarian musician and wait just seconds before he regales you with tales of Alice Fitoussi and la belle époque of Algerian music. Tell just about any Algerian, young or old, about your research subject in the broadest of terms and wait for them to interject with, “Ah! Then you must study the Jews.”

There is much more to say but I am still very much processing it all. My daily strolls through the casbah, that shockingly compact musical incubator which once nurtured the high point of Jewish-Muslim music making, helps tremendously. So too does listening to the music again and again. Shortly before leaving for Algeria, I put together an all-45 rpm mix for Afropop Worldwide which serves as both a primer and a testament to the outsized role played by the country’s Jewish musicians in the first two-thirds of the twentieth century.

Disco Maghreb. What else?

Here is what I wrote for their website: “In an era immediately before chaabi and preceding raï by some decades, multi-talented artists like Lili Labassi pushed the boundaries of Algerian Arabic music in new, exciting directions while laying down 78 rpm record after 78 rpm record for Columbia, Polydor, and even RCA. Later, Lili Boniche and Luc Cherki, the so-called “crooners of the casbah,” blended Western and North African rhythms to produce hits like the former’s “Ya Samira,” included here. Over the next hour you will hear a sampling of all of this and more. We start with Salim Halali and his iconic cover of the Moroccan Sidi Hbibi before moving on to a Luc Cherki istikhbar and disco number and eventually to a trio of pieces performed by Blond Blond, Lili Labassi, and the Algéroise diva Line Monty dedicated to a love of city (Oran and Algiers) and nation (Djazaïr). René Perez and Lili Boniche round out this mix before we arrive at the rarest piece in this collection: the Andalusian piano stylings of the one and only Sariza Cohen.”

Playlist

Salim Halali - Layali Maghrib / Salim Halali - Sidi H’bibi / Luc Cherki - Stekhbar Sahli / Luc Cherki - Oumparéré / Blond Blond - El Porompompero / Blond Blond - Wahran El Behya / Lili Labassi - Ouaharan El Bhya / Lili Labassi - Edzayer Zint Elbouldan / Leïla Fateh (Line Monty) - Alger Alger / René Perez - Elli Mektoub Mektoub / Lili Boniche - Elli Mektoub Mektoub / Lili Boniche - Ya Samira / Sariza Cohen - Variations sur Touchia Dhil

More to come when I return but in the meantime pour yourself a Phénix or an Orangina (both of Algerian origin) and enjoy the music. Saha!

Marhaba Tunis: New Music Mix, Tunisia’s Jewish Musicians, and Summer Travel

“Summer is here my friends: Turn on the fan, pour yourself a refreshing drink, close the shutters a bit, relax and refresh yourself in this paradise-inducing musical oasis,” writes Guillaume le Roux for 716 Music on my recent music mix. You can read his full write-up on my efforts, here. In honor of my August and September travel to Tunis and Paris (which will include research and record digging – any tips more than welcome!), I have put together the above-described mix of some of Tunisia’s finest male Jewish musicians. The mix, which I have dubbed Marhaba Tunis, can be downloaded below. In a recent tweet, Afropop Worldwide described it in the following terms, “We cannot say enough about how dope this mix of Tunisian music from @JewishMorocco is. (hint- VERY) LISTEN!!”

Two final notes before we get to the music and the rest of the post:

1. You can find more details on Tunisia’s music scene and background on the artists featured on this mix after the jump.

2. I will be blogging from the Maghreb and France for the rest of the summer so be sure to visit the site often. There will be additional updates on my Facebook and Twitter.

716 Exclusive Mix - Jewish Morocco (Chris Silver) : Marhaba Tunis Mix by 716 Music on Mixcloud

Download

Kakino de Paz – Taksim Rasd

El Kahlaoui Tounsi – Men jarr aalaya

Maurice Meimoun – Khalli rabbi yetfakkarni

Cheikh El Afrit – Gued ma amelt maak

Jose de Suza - Consolacion

A. Perez – Ya Beladi

Raoul Journo – Sellemt fik ya biladi

Raoul Journo – Ahla Ouassahla

Kakino de Paz – Teksim Naïm

 

Brief Historical Note on Tunisia’s Jewish Stars 

Youcef Hedjaj aka Jose de Suza

Naturally, I have spoken most often on this blog about the world of Moroccan Jewish music-makers. Over the last couple years, I have delved into Algeria’s robust Jewish soundscape as well. I have given the least attention to Tunisia up until this point, although Algeria’s eastern neighbor deserves our attention since the country is as much a part of the story as the rest of the Maghreb. I won’t go into all of the details of the Tunisian music scene at this point but suffice it to say that Jewish participation mirrors, if not exceeds, that of their Maghrebi Jewish counterparts to the west.

Louisa Tounsia née Saadoun

Fritna Darmon, Maurice Attoun, Messaoud Habib, Abramino Berda, Bichi Slama, Chaloum Saada, Leila Sfez, Gaston Bsiri, Mademoiselle Dalila, Cheikh El Afrite, Doukha, Louisa Tounsia, Raoul Journo, Habiba Messika, Youcef Hedjaj, and Acher Mizrahi are but a small sampling of the Tunisian Jewish performers who defined and shaped their industry throughout the course of the first sixty-plus years of the twentieth century. A few details on Habiba Messika and Acher Mizrahi demonstrate the diversity of these performers and their impact, both of which are recalled fondly to this day. Habiba Messika, described as the Tunisian Sarah Bernhardt by observers in the 1920s, recorded extensively until her shocking death by arson at the hands of a jealous (Jewish) lover at the too-young age of twenty-seven. Throngs of Jews and Muslims came out for her funeral and both Jewish and Muslim popular artists (like Mademoiselle Flifla and Bachir Fahmy) penned songs in her honor. Some of those 78 rpm records were even sold to the American market on the Victor label. Acher Mizrahi was born outside of Jerusalem at the end of the nineteenth century. A hazzan by trade, he eventually settled in Tunis where he became not only the city’s most famous cantor but a major popular music figure as well (something which seems unimaginable today). He wrote lyrics for Cheikh El Afrite, recorded on his own, and collaborated with the likes of Mademoiselle Dalila and Messaoud Habib. Remarkably, he remained in Tunisia until shortly before his death in 1967.

There is infinitely more to write but this will have to serve our purposes for now. Think of it as whetting of the appetite. In return, I promise to blog on the topic later in the summer.

Short Biographical Sketches on the Musicians featured on the Marhaba Tunis Mix

Isaac “Kakino” De Paz (b. 1919, d. 1983): Blinded at a young age, Kakino de Paz was a multi-talented musician, a true virtuouso. De Paz was a master of the qanun, the violin, the oud, the piano, the accordion, and oh yes, the electric organ. He performed with La Rachidia, Tunisia’s premier Andalusian ensemble, and served for a time as head of the Radio Tunis orchestra.

El Kahlaoui Tounsi (b. 1932, d. 2000): Born Elie Touitou, El Kahlaoui was a stunning showman. There is a quality to his voice, which can only be described as mesmerizing and his darbouka work is without parallel. In addition to his staggering personal output and work with myriad North African greats, El Kahlaoui took over the Paris-based record label Dounia (the name repeated a number of times at the beginning of the mix) in the 1960s and turned it into one of the premier Maghrebi outfits. It is thanks to him and his efforts that much of North African music of the 1960s and 1970s is preserved.

Maurice Meimoun (b. 1929, d. 1993): Son of famous Jewish musician Mouni Jebali (who also happened to be Hédi Jouini's master teacher), Meimoun was an accomplished violinist and composer – writing for many of Tunisia’s biggest and brightest. The Tunisian Ministry of Culture honored him for his work shortly before his death.

Cheikh El Afrite (b. 1897, d. 1939): Born Israël Rosio Issirene, his adoption of the name Cheikh El Afrite (roughly translating as Master of the Devil) paid homage to his wit and was perhaps also a play on the word ‘ivrit, which happens to mean Hebrew in Hebrew. He was nothing if not prolific and there was little he didn’t sing about including a lament about a husband, who was sick and tired…of his wife.

Youcef Hedjaj (b. 1919): The sometimes Jose de Suza has written over 600 songs in a mélange of languages. He helped to pioneer the francarabe genre and held court at the famed El Djazaïr cabaret in Paris. He wrote the lyrics to some of the true classics including Line Monty’s Ya Oumi and L’Oriental.

Albert Perez (unknown): I admit I know little of Perez other than that he cut a number of 45s with El Kahlaoui on Dounia. Ya beladi is an emotional ode to his Tunisia. If anyone has more information, please do send my way.

Raoul Journo (b. 1911, d. 2001): Simply put, Raoul Journo was among the greatest, if not the greatest, in Tunisian recording history. His repertoire remains an integral part of the his country’s musical fabric to this day. Sellemt fik ya biladi is an incredible homage to Tunisia.

Botbol: The Last of an Era

Botbol on electric guitar. 1960s.

Haim Botbol has affected my life in ways he could never imagine. It was his record I picked up four years ago and it was his voice, which opened up a world of North African music for me. This is why this day means so much to me. Today, June 18, 2013, Haim Botbol is being honored by a fascinating cross-section of Moroccans for his sixty plus years in the music business. The event, organized by his manager and producer Maurice Elbaz, will include a roundtable discussion with musicians, musicologists, and journalists on Botbol’s career and of course, a concert - stacked with talent: Maxime Karoutchi and his orchestra, Benomar Ziani, Marcel Botbol, Vanessa Paloma, and apparently a few surprises.

 

Haim Botbol, known as Botbol to fans, was born in Fez in the 1930s. Like other Jewish musicians who came of age during this period, the young Botbol soon joined a musical dynasty. His father, Cheikh Jacob Abitbol (another variant of the Botbol name), was a well respected violinist and vocalist who released a number of 45s in the 1950s. Marcel, his younger brother, continues to entertain in Tangier.

Haim Botbol on guitar and his father Jacob Abitbol on violin. Marcel in back. Fez. 1950s.

Sampling of Botbol 45s c/o of Toukadime.

Haim Botbol was a favorite of Salim Halali and performed with Albert Suissa as well. He released a considerable amount of music on about a dozen labels (Boussiphone, Musica, Tichkaphone, Canariphone, Philips, etc.). He “made it” well into the cassette era, which is an accomplishment in and of itself. His mesmerizing voice has played a major role in his success and it would not be an exaggeration to say that Botbol, for all intents and purposes, represents the last of the great Jewish Moroccan musicians living in-country (although he has spent the last few years in France). 

This track - Ba Lahcen - is one of my favorites. The song became a serious hit for many including the likes of Hajja Hamdaouia. For anyone who has spent considerable time in Morocco or grew up speaking darija, you will love the song’s refrain.

Mazal tov, mabrouk, and félicitations to Cheikh Haim Botbol.

I will be posting additional Botbol-related material on my Facebook page and on Twitter throughout the week. Please make sure to check out.

Felix El Maghrebi: The Voice of an Era

Felix Wizman aka Felix El Maghrebi

The Casablanca cassette seller dusted off a Felix El Maghrebi mix tape, taped it with his index finger, and handed it to me. “This,” he said, “this is it.” Pulling a single cassette from a tower of tapes is no easy feat. Remembering where everything is even more difficult. But Felix El Maghrebi, the young Jewish mainstay of the Moroccan pop scene from the 1950s through the 1980s, is impossible to forget. His voice is smooth and his excitement is palpable. He is also a mighty fine oud player. In fact, wherever I have purchased music in Morocco, Felix has affectionately become the focus of the conversation.

Felix Wizman was born in the southern coastal city of Safi in 1937. Like many other Jewish families, his moved to Casablanca when he was just a boy. Le Petit Felix, as he soon became known, quickly found his voice in the big city, literally. It’s likely his father Meir first noticed his talent at home but it was the synagogue that provided him his initial stage. By the early 1950s, Salim Halali grew aware of Felix the virtuoso, eventually inviting him on stage with him to perform. Around that time, Felix was either bestowed or adopted the stage name Felix El Maghrebi, possibly in deference to his idol, Samy Elmaghribi. By his mid-teens, Felix was already performing professionally, both in front of large audiences and at private occasions, especially weddings. He signed a contract with the Jewish label N. Sabbah likely in the 1950s and cut a number of EPs with them through the 1960s and 1970s.

Felix El Maghrebi and his oud

His Jewish and Muslim contemporaries remember him fondly and with good reason. When many of his Jewish musical peers were making new homes for themselves in France and Israel, Felix remained in Casablanca - singing and playing his heart out. He was not only an audible presence in the 1960s but a visual one as well, making consistent appearances on Moroccan television at the height of his career. He was a familiar face in what must have been a confusing, chaotic, and yet exhilarating period: the initial years of Moroccan independence.

Felix El Maghrebi’s Raya Moghrabiya poignantly captures the Morocco of the time. It is a military march of sorts, a nationalist hymn focused on unity. “Be happy, brothers,” he exhorts over and over again in the refrain.

Take a listen to his golden voice:

Felix Wizman dit Le Petit Felix dit Felix El Maghrebi died five years ago on March 6, 2008. Through his song, his memory lives on.

P.S. If anyone has information on the N. Sabbah label, please be in contact with me directly.

Singing the Scandalous: Mini Skirts in Moroccan Jewish Song

Esther Elfassy. Mini. Koliphone. 1960s?

--> Jewish Morocco is back for 2013. Lots of big changes are in store over the next few months. In the meantime, some new music is in order. I wanted to start off the New Year with something dynamo, a selection to get everyone off their feet. As this blog has revealed, North African music has never shirked from addressing the most taboo of topics in song. In fact, drugs, politics, and sex have been dealt with extensively since the very first recordings were made in the Maghreb.  

Moroccan Jewish musicians continued this tradition upon arrival in Israel. Jo Amar sang about discrimination, Sami Amar chanted about war, Judah Assaraf weighed in on politics, Maurice Lusky satirized drinking, and Petit Armand revealed the trappings of family life.  Searching through my record collection for this post I discovered a particularly curious phenomenon in light of the propensity of these pop stars to take on anything and everything. To my delight, the mini skirt came up (pardon the pun) in chanson after chanson. Even the universally respected Sliman Elmaghribi, the subject of a future post, weighed in on the fashion phenomenon.

Sliman Elmaghribi. Mini. Zakiphone. 1960s.

Moroccan Jews were not alone in taking up the cause of or against the mini skirt. Whether or not they knew it, Jews were often “singing in unison” with their North African Muslim counterparts, who addressed skirt length in countless records.

Salem Djilali. Atagua Mini Jupe. Boussiphone. 1960s (c/o Toukadime)

So without further ado, I present you with Mini by Esther Elfassy. the Moroccan-born, Israel-reared chanteuse who has been featured on this blog before. Elfassy provides us with what may be the definitive Arabic ode to the mini skirt. Take a listen to her 1970s hit (written by Moshe Ben Hamo, recorded in Jaffa, and pressed in Holon) below and pass along. 

2012 Judeo-Maghreb Holiday Mix

Line Monty / Cheikh Zekri / Jose de Suza

I've put together an all vinyl end of 2012 Judeo-Maghreb compilation that sets the right tone for the holiday season. It's Tunisian tango, Algerian "All About the Benjamins," and the one and only Line Monty - all in one mix.

I recommend playing this LOUD at your holiday hafla. Feel free to pass this one around.

Track List:
Jose de Suza aka Youcef Hedjaj. Consolacion (Guitarra). Metronome. c. 1970s.

Cheikh Zekri. Qoulchi maa el flous (Everything with money). Dounia. c. 1970s.

Line Monty. Berkana menekon. Dounia. c. 1970s.

Happy Hanukkah!

El Gusto, Algerian Jewish Mothers, and Luc Cherki

Just a few weeks ago I moved from New York to Los Angeles. This relocation was part of a long journey home for me. It began in the south of France, took me to Morocco, afforded me a short stop in Israel, and cut through New York before dropping me in California. Over the next few posts I will attempt to capture the most salient memories and observations from my travels. Along the way I’ll be digitizing some of the most interesting pieces of music I collected.

Moroccan and Algerian Jewish records in Marseille.

A Note on Putting this Post Together
As I was putting the finishing touches on this post I found myself racing against time. I started writing this last Thursday shortly before I was to head to the airport for a quick trip back to New York. I had wanted to digitize a piece of music to go along with it but since everything was literally in boxes I had almost no idea where anything was. By chance I opened a closet door where I was storing clothing and some 45s. Staring back at me was a near mint Luc Cherki record I had nearly forgotten about. Suddenly, everything came into focus. I recalled a short conversation I had with the Algerian vocalist and guitarist over the summer. I had told him I was a fan and a collector. He told me (with his characteristic smile) that he longer had any of his own records (not at all uncommon). All of this crystallized for me as time was running out before my flight. I was inspired. I started (gently) tearing open boxes and soon found my record player and the necessary cables for digitization. The platter on the record player had barely stopped spinning before I ran out the door for LAX.

South of France: From Marseille to Sète
As some of you read in my last post, I spent two weeks over the summer seeking out remnants of the once vibrant North African music scene in Marseille. While there I not only had the good fortune of finding physical records and cassettes but also passionate individuals chronicling the local incarnation of this transnational musical saga. Along the way I rediscovered tantalizing hints of how this story plays out spatially through various artifacts like a stamped label with the former address of the Algerian Cheikh Zekri’s music club.

Cheikh Zekri's old stomping grounds in Marseille. Stamped on back of LP.

While in France, I had the tremendous opportunity to see live music as well. Thanks to the kindness of Safinez and Nabila I met with members of the recently reconstituted 1950s-era Algerian chaabi orchestra El Gusto. I was privileged to have ftour (Ramadan break-fast meal) with these master musicians and glean hidden nuggets of music history from the likes of Algerian pianist Maurice El Medioni through informal interviews backstage. The concert itself, in an amphitheater on the water in beautiful Sète (also interestingly a ferry point for North Africa), was electric. A couple observations from the concert before I jump to our artist of interest.

• Throughout the concert, Abdelmajid Meksoud referred to Maurice El Medioni as Cheikh.
• The set list included a majority of songs popularized or written by Algerian Jews including Mchate Aaliya (Lili Boniche), Alger Alger (Line Monty-Maurice El Medioni), and one of my favorites - Ghir Ajini Ajini (Lili Labassi).

I’m including a short clip I shot with my phone (so please forgive the quality) of El Gusto performing Ghir Ajini Ajini. I’m pairing it with Toukadime’s recent upload of Lili Labassi’s Ghir Ajini Ajini original for RCA (Yes, the Recording Corporation of America was recording North African Jewish musicians as well).

El Gusto performs Lili Labassi's Ghir Ajini Ajini in August 2012.

Lili Labassi's original Ghir Ajini Ajini for RCA.

Monsieur Luc Cherki
In the lead up to the concert I chatted with Luc (sometimes Lili) Cherki, a musician who had long been a curiosity of mine but whom I had never written about. Luc was born on August 8, 1936 and spent his formative years in Algiers, Algeria. He came of musical age in the 1950s at a time when chaabi music across the Maghreb was on the ascent. What made him special (in part) was that he could not only jam on the guitar in a number of styles but could also sing distinctively in Arabic, French, and Hebrew. As the end of the decade approached, his identity as an Algerian Jew of French citizenship became increasingly complex. Like most of his fellow coreligionists Luc Cherki left Algeria for France by 1962 and has never returned. He increasingly sang in French and became associated musically and politically with his French hit Je Suis Pied Noir.

Luc Cherki's Je Suis Pied Noir.

Luc Cherki recorded for a variety of labels in France including Kahlaoui's Dounia. His Arabic music was often forgotten as the years wore on and by the end of the 1980s he seemed to distance himself from music all together. He took a nearly 15 year musical break before returning to the performing stage in the 2000s and now tours with El Gusto.

Luc Cherki. L'Mouèma. Dounia. 1970s.

L’Mouèma

Yes, I'm posting a song about a Jewish mother, an Algerian Jewish mother to be exact. L’mouèma is the affectionate word for mom in darija, North African Arabic. The album artwork from this 1970s Luc Cherki release features a dedication to children deprived of their mothers' love. When I asked my friend Jawad (check out his Juifs Berberes photo blog) for some help with the lyrics, he concurred that the song was written about a mother but he offered another explanation. L’mouèma can also stand in for the motherland, he said. In other words, it's possible that Luc Cherki is singing here about his longing for Algeria. The song begins with, "separation is worse than death." Take a listen. I hear hints of Cheikh Zouzou's Bensoussan here in the music. The theme of exile, estrangement is ominpresent. What I also find fascinating about this song (and really El Gusto as a concept) is how much it complicates the narrative. Cheers.

Marseille's North African Lower East Side

For North African music lovers, Damien Taillard's blog Phocéephone is a must. Damien, originally from Toulon but through and through a Marseillais, has dedicated his time to documenting the thriving North African music scene in Marseille from at least the 1950s through the end of the 1970s. His research focuses on the Cours Belsunce quarter, one of Marseille's oldest neighborhoods, a hub of North African Jewish and Muslim immigration for at least the last 50 years, and home to its Arabic music scene for decades. Damien has patiently and diligently collected North African records produced and recorded in Marseille and has posted many of these to his blog.

Damien and I had emailed back and forth for some time before I told him I was coming to Marseille. We met for the first time in person at Galette, the record store he works for in the alternative Cours Julien neighborhood. We chatted for a long while. Damien kindly came bearing gifts including a number of Algerian and Moroccan Jewish 45s of which he had multiple copies. I also picked up a rare Cheikh Zekri LP on the Dounia label from the store before making a plan with Damien to meet the following week. We were going to try to meet with the master oudist and native son of Marseille (via Oujda in Morocco) Raymond Azoulay aka Raymond Oujdy. Raymond was a giant to me and many others. He started his own labels in Marseille (Oujdiphone and Oujdisques), played with the likes of Reinette l'Oranaise and Blond Blond, and had a deep respect for his Muslim musical counterparts.

Raymond Oujdy on his label Oujdisques circa 1979

Damien called me the next week and told me that Raymond was unavailable but that he had another idea. He proposed a tour of Cours Belsunce and I quickly jumped at the opportunity.

We met at the famed Alcazar Theatre now turned public library and the site of a future exhibition Damien is putting together on Cours Belsunce. As we meandered through the tiny streets filled with wholesale fabric stores, inexpensive housewares merchants and store front places of worship I couldn't help but compare it to New York's Lower East Side.

Belsunce was the first French home that many Jewish immigrants from North Africa knew. They were joined there by their Muslim counterparts. Most of the Jews have since moved out of the neighborhood but a few still operate shops there. We stopped by one such shop, Chez Youssef, before venturing on. I could imagine Youssef and other merchants closing their shops for midday prayer. Youssef and others would then hurry to a number of neighborhood synagogues, non-descript from the outside but filled with men chanting emotional liturgy on the inside.

Chez Youssef - one of the few remaining Jewish shops in Cours Belsunce

Of those Jews and Muslims who descended on the neighborhood quite a few were professional musicians in Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia. They quickly regrouped in Belsunce. They formed record labels like Sudiphone, Sonia Disques, and Tam Tam, brought together orchestras, and turned Belsunce into a North African music mecca where literally thousands of records were released. Those passing through would record here as well including the late Jo Amar. Today, almost none of it remains, not even the thriving cinemas and bars once a mainstay of the neighborhood.

Judah Sebag records Adon Olam for Disques Tam Tam in Marseille (1950s)

What do remain, thankfully, are the addresses. As we came to a stop at a corner, Damien pulled out a stack of 45s. Printed on the labels were their past locations. Damien soon guided us to 9 Rue Des Dominicains once the home of the Tam Tam Disques mini-empire. Tam Tam, under the direction of its Armenian owner, was one of the most prolific labels of the neighborhood. The label recorded everything from West African to North African chaabi to Hebrew. Judah Sebbag, Abraham El Fassi, and others would record for Tam Tam over the years. I snapped a picture of what once was and we continued on. Everywhere we went I was struck by this feeling of nostalgia that I couldn't shake.

The former home of Disques Tam Tam at 9 Rue Des Dominicains

Where dozens of record stores once existed are now but a few cd shops. Lots of Arabic and Berber music with electronic keyboards and synthesizers. I soon longed for the day when you could pick up a Raymond Oujdy EP off the shelf and take it for a spin.

Raymond Oujdy. Ya Robi Tahaye - Sadate O Begin - Oujdisques - 1979.

Before I left New York I uploaded this Raymond Oujdy track called Ya Robi Tahaye - Sadate O Begin. For me this song represents a bygone era. Here Raymond pours his heart into a song about peace between Egypt and Israel in Moroccan Arabic. And here is a taste of what North African Marseille sounded like in 1979.



Damien and I visited a few other places before ending our journey. I couldn't thank Damien enough for working to preserve this heritage. At our last stop, we came upon a shop with large one Euro cassette bins out front. And there to my great surprise I found something. There amongst Kabyle and Chaoui pop and various forms of rai you could still find North African Jewish chaabi buried deep in Cours Belsunce. I dug in and rediscovered a long neglected tape of a young Pinhass (Pinhass Cohen), still in its original packaging. The title track was kaftanek mahloul. Naturally, I purchased it and immediately felt nostalgic once again for a time I could only imagine. A time when Cours Belsunce was full of Jewish and Muslim musicians, Armenian producers and record label visionaries, bars serving mahia and boukha alongside Ricard and lots of sound.

Pinhass Cohen cassette found in Marseille

Raymonde El Bidaouia: The Blonde Bombshell from Casablanca

A young Raymonde

By the late 1970s and possibly even earlier, Morocco’s King Hassan II was listening to Raymonde El Bidaouia on vinyl. So enthralled with her records, he invited her to perform at the Royal Palace in Rabat in 1981. Raymonde was to perform together with the late, great Samy Elmaghribi. She and Samy knew each other well thanks to the Azoulay brothers. She wasn’t what Samy expected at first but she and her voice soon grew on him. He was certainly the legend but Raymonde was the rising star and soon they began touring the world together.

Raymonde's 12th LP for the Koliphone label

On the night she was set to sing with Samy in front the King, Raymonde considered cancelling. She was understandably nervous. She had never performed before royalty. To add insult to injury, she felt like a fraud. She had always borrowed lyrics from Samy, Albert Suissa, and other greats. The songs that she did write revolved around drinking and partying. Hardly regal (maybe). And yet, she knew she had to go on. She went on stage and approached the mic. Within moments, the tiny blonde with the outsized vocals blew everyone away. What was supposed to be a warm up turned into a full-blown concert lasting until 1 in the morning and only then did Samy take the stage.

Raymonde dons a traditional-ish djelaba for an album cover

Raymonde Abecassis was born in 1943 in Casablanca and moved with her family to Israel in 1952. Like other Moroccan immigrants, life wasn’t easy for Raymonde and her family. She worked hard and married early. It was only after the birth of her daughter, the Israeli actress Yael Abecassis, that she launched her music career. She set herself apart quickly. She rejected trappings like gold jewelry and traditional dress (unless it was for an album cover or special performance) and instead opted for her signature blonde hair, t-shirt, and jeans. By the 1970s, she was recording hit record after hit record for the Koliphone and Zakiphon labels out of Jaffa. She became known as Raymonde El Bidaouia (Raymonde the Casablancan) in Israel, Morocco, and beyond. Some went as far as to call her Cheikha Raymonde. In Israel, she collaborated with Meyer Elbedawi, Judah Assaraf, Eliyahu Kahlaoui (who has been featured on this blog before), and non-Moroccans like the Egyptian violinist Felix Mizrahi.

By the 1990s, after decades of making music, Raymonde launched her television and film career. Today, she continues to act and has since launched a Moroccan Arabic theater project in Israel.

What I love about Raymonde is her voice and her swagger. Raymonde has chutzpah in the best way possible and she laughs in the face of shouma. When a reporter once asked Raymonde why she sings in Arabic and not in Hebrew, she said, “Could I be like Chava Alberstein? No, I am Raymonde.” You can feel all of this drive in her music.

Raymonde. Tomobil. Koliphone. 1970s

Below is one of my favorite Raymonde songs. It’s titled Tomobil, which means car in Moroccan Arabic. This song is about a number of different things – there’s a meta component at the beginning where her and her partner discuss (argue about) driving to the studio to make a record (taklit in Hebrew), there’s the piece where she’s looking to buy a car but doesn’t know how to drive but above all this the song is self-indulgent, celebratory, and one that only Raymonde could pull off. It’s a record you put on at a hafla or in a smoky bar and turn up the volume. Also, not sure if anyone else hears this but the dialogue at the beginning of this track is vaguely reminiscent of the dialogue at the beginning of Lili L’abassi’s original Wahran El Bahia.

Rumor has it that Raymonde is set to tour again in Israel soon. Take a listen to this so that you can sing along in person next time you see her in concert.



So since it’s summer and because it’s blazing hot, I’m adding two additional tracks to this post – both on the subject of drinking (alcohol has been a favorite subject for Moroccan singers – Jewish and Muslim alike – since at least the advent of recorded music).

I suggest you open a Flag beer or take a sip of mahia and listen to Atiuli El Kass by Raymonde. Pay particular attention as Raymonde gives a shout out to the kass (cup) of whiskey. Thanks to Toukadime for uploading this a little while back.

And this is mostly for my Arabic speaking listeners, but check out this routine from Raymonde and the comedian Maurice Lusky. It’s the intro to her song Skran (the drunkard in Moroccan Arabic). For those who don’t speak Arabic, this is still an excellent introduction to Moroccan comedy and the music at the very end of the sketch is beyond great. I would love to see a full translation of this bit if anyone is feeling ambitious.



Finally, I’ll be blogging from France and Morocco this summer. Stay tuned for more updates.

Moroccan Grooves, Blogged: Jewish Morocco Featured on Tablet Mag

A sampling of North African 45s.

I had the pleasure of sitting down with Sara Ivry at Tablet Magazine last week to record this piece on a history of Jewish musicians in Morocco, my quest to find their recordings and how my personal musical history fits in to all of this. I digitized some Samy Elmaghribi, Line Monty and Cheikh Mwijo especially for the podcast so I hope everyone enjoys.

Here is the introductory text from Tablet:

By day, Chris Silver works for a Jewish task force trying to raise awareness about civic inequalities facing Israel’s Arab citizens. But he dedicates his free time to Jews in an Arab land, with his blog, Jewish Morocco. Silver created the blog in 2008, while traveling in Morocco, as a way of sharing the stories, photographs, and other artifacts he was collecting to document what Jewish life there had been like in its heyday. Along the way, he developed a particular interest in the country’s Jewish musicians and singers—characters who were beloved by Moroccans of all backgrounds, and to whom he gives ample space on his blog. Silver joins Vox Tablet host Sara Ivry to talk about some of the unique voices he’s discovered, what happened to Jewish Moroccan singers once they left the country in the 1950s and ’60s, and where he gets his missionary zeal (hint: It has to do with Bob Dylan; Mama Cass; Bill Cosby; and Chris’s dad, Roy). [Running time: 25:55.]

Listen to the podcast here: http://www.tabletmag.com/podcasts/101311/moroccan-grooves-blogged

I'll be posting more in a few weeks including some pieces that didn't make it in the final edit - so keep an eye and ear out for fresh posts.

Show this Saturday at JCC + Cheikh Mwijo, Lili L'abassi & Shimon Bar Yohai

Come listen to Cheikh Mwijo and others this Sat., May 26th at JCC Manhattan

I'll be spinning rare North African records this Saturday night, May 26th for a set called Sheikh it, Baby! Arabic Music, Jewish Musicians. The set is part of the wonderful Tikkun Leil Shavuot program at the JCC Manhattan. I go on at 12.30 am (technically May 27th) in the 4th floor studio. I'm adding some recent killer finds to the playlist, so bring a friend and come check it out. The full schedule of events can be found here.

Judeo-Arabic song verse in praise of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai
Composed by Albert Suissa and printed in Casablanca (1950s)

Tikkun Leil Shavuot in its current form is a modern twist on an ancient tradition. Shavuot marks the anniversary of the Israelites receiving the Torah from God. One tradition relates that the Israelites prayed and studied for three days and nights in anticipation of receiving the Torah and so, we emulate this all-night regiment to remember and recreate this sacred study session.

Shavuot (meaning weeks in Hebrew) comes seven weeks after Passover. If you've been following the news or my Twitter feed (www.twitter.com/jewishmorocco) lately, you may have noticed an uptick in Jewish pilgrimages (hilloulot in Hebrew) over the last couple weeks in Morocco and Tunisia. These pilgrimages to Rabbi's tombs usually fall on or right around Lag B'Omer, a holiday that occurs 33 days after Passover and which marks the anniversary of the death of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai, a 2nd century Rabbi and disciple of the famed Rabbi Akiva. According to lore, Lag B'Omer is also the date that Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai revealed the Zohar, the foundational text of Kabbalah.

Now the tie-in for all of this is something I've written about before and that is the fascinating convergence of the sacred and secular in North African Jewish music. For example, the melody for Samy Elmaghribi's scandalously secular Kaftanek Mahloul (Blond Blond performs it here) was quickly incorporated into liturgical poetry for the synagogue in 1950s Morocco and beyond (Binyamin Bouzaglo performs El Hay Ram Gadol to the tune of Kaftanek Mahloul here).

I recently discovered another track that made the transition from secular to sacred. Lili L’abassi was born Elie Moyal in Sidi Bel Abbas, Algeria in or around 1909. By his early 20s, he was already being referred to as Cheikh for his mastery of the violin and Arabic song. His popularity rose steadily in the 1930s and 1940s and he can be thought of as the Jewish Hadj Mohammed El Anka in terms of popularizing chaabi music. One of his most popular songs is Wahran El Bahia (Oran the Brilliant/Shining/Beautiful) and is an ode to the city that has produced some of Algeria's greatest musicians, past and present. Wahran El Bahia has become the unofficial anthem of Oran and continues to be sung to this day.

Below is a clip of the song being performed by El Gusto, a Jewish and Muslim orchestra originally formed in Algeria in the 1950s and recently reunited. The musicians of El Gusto, now in their 70s through 90s, had lost touch post-Algerian independence and were brought together over the last few years thanks to the efforts of the filmmaker Safinez Bousbia, who captured this story in her compelling documentary. Make sure you see this film El Gusto, if you haven't already.

Pay close attention to the very animated violinist and singer in this El Gusto concert recording because it is none other than Robert Castel, son of the great Lili L'abassi. To the right, you can also make out Luc (or Lili) Cherki. Play the song in its entirety once or twice, so you get a real feel for the melody.

Check out this 1970s recording by Cheikh Mwijo in Israel. It's called Meron El Bahiya and is a pretty amazing piece about Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai. Mt. Meron (in Israel) is the pilgrimage site for the Lag B'Omer holiday and the burial place of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai. Lag B'Omer and Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai have long been popular song topics for Jewish North African recording artists. One of my most interesting 78s, for example, is a 1950s recording of a Lag B'Omer hilloula in Tlemcen, Algeria. Now take a close listen to the Cheikh Mwijo song below. This is the same melody and refrain as Lili L'abassi's Wahran El Bahiya but with Meron swapped for Oran! The sacred has again adopted the secular.


While you're pondering all of this, I'm going to give another shoutout to my twitter feed and mention that you can like this blog on Facebook (www.facebook.com/jewishmorocco). I'll be posting some exciting news soon...so keep an eye out.