"If You Ain't Got No Money": Louisa Tounsia sings about marriage

As I mentioned in my last post, I’m going to be putting up one of my favorite North African rarities from Youtube once a day for the duration of Hanukkah. As we enter evening two of the holiday, we’re going to stick with Tunisia.

This mid-1930s Louisa Tounsia release on Polyphon should remind us that North African music was more than just malouf or other variations of the Andalusian classical suite (although these traditions were and are no doubt incredibly important). Part and parcel of the repertoire of the Maghrib’s Jewish (and Muslim) musicians were popular songs on topical subjects. Written by Maurice Benäis, Tunisian Jewish vocalist, lyrcist, and orchestral leader extraordinaire, and performed by Louisa Tounsia, "Ma fiche flous" (literally, “there is no money,” but loosely translated by me as, “If you ain’t got no money”) in many ways narrates the changing status of women in early twentieth century Tunisia. In "Ma fiche flous," Tounsia gets to decide who she’s going to make her husband and as she says in the chorus, “If you ain’t got no money, then we ain’t got words, honey.” But for the man who can provide, Tounsia reminds, he may have more than a few options (“If you got nice threads, then you got yourself your choice of beds.”).

Louisa Tounsia with gargoulette

Louisa Tounsia was born Louisa Saadoun in 1905 in Tunis. She had a prolific career and recorded for the likes of Gramophone, Columbia, Polyphon, Perfectaphone Baidaphon, Pacific, and Ducretet-Thomson. Her repertoire was equally varied, recording taalil (with Raoul Journo), tango, and yes, a song about heroin. She performed across North Africa and France at the hottest North African cabarets throughout the 1930s and after the war. She was married to the equally impressive Tunisian lyricist Zaki Khraïf. The circumstances of her death have always been unclear to me, having died rather suddenly at the age of sixty-one. If anyone has more information about the final years of her life, please do reach out.

In the meantime, her legacy lives on. Emel Mathlouthi, the singer of the recent Tunisian revolution, has taken to singing Louisa Tounsia’s Ala bab darek on a number of occasions.

Of Tunisian Jewish Saints, Stambeli, and Wedding Singers: Remembering Doukha

Undated photo of Doukha.

Found at the bottom of many of the articles on the victims of the Paris kosher supermarket attack last January, was a notice that Yohan Cohen’s maternal grandfather was none other than the popular Tunisian singer Doukha, who had himself died just a month prior in Netanya, Israel. Little more than a mention was given to the multitalented artist, whose given name was Mordekhai Haddad, so I thought I would pay tribute to him here with the few details that I could find.

Undated newspaper clipping of Doukha.

Mordekhai Haddad was born sometime in the first third of the twentieth century in Tunis. Like many Tunisians of the era, Haddad was reared on equal parts Farid al-Atrash and Raoul Journo and eventually joined the latter’s orchestra as a percussionist, specializing in the tar and the darbouka. As a vocalist, Doukha (likely a diminutive of Mordekhai), as he soon became known, was adept at a range of styles: from Tunisian popular music (including the trance inducing stambeli you’ll hear below) and religious song (including for the various anthems associated with pilgrimages to tombs of Jewish saints and the genre of thalil). In the 1950s and through the 1960s, Doukha recorded for at least two Tunisian record labels: En Nour and Studio Sonor. Studio Sonor was founded by Victor Uzan and was based at 6 Rue d’Athenes in Tunis, just northeast of the medina. The label put out a number of what it called “Judeo-Tunisian folkloric” discs including those by Doukha and Nathan Cohen. Doukha and Cohen were frequent collaborators, would often trade off lead vocals under the direction of Clement Hayoun, and worked as a quintet with two other unnamed artists. If anyone has any more information on the other two, please do send my way and I’ll add.

A rare photo of Studio Sonor in Tunis.

Below are both sides of a Doukha EP released for En Nour around 1960. You will get a sense not only of his breadth of musical knowledge here but of his very palpable energy. The A side is “Ana nzourek bel farha kouia (I visit you with great joy),” and is an ode to al-Sayyed Rabbi Yossef El Maarabi of Gabès. El Maarab, as he is often referred to, was a Moroccan-born disciple of the sixteenth century Safed-based kabbalist Rabbi Isaac and Luria. What I dig about this track is that it seems to straddle that sacred-popular line that I have recently been transfixed with. In other words, this is a devotional song that makes you want to dance to the beat.

UPDATE (5/20/2015): Last month I wrote that this track "seems to straddle that sacred-popular line." I was listening to some Raoul Journo the other day and then it dawned on me: "Ana nzourek bel farha koui" has the same melody as his "Ana Targui (I'm a Touareg)." I was blown away. Check it out!


Raoul Journo Ana Targui Weld Ettarguia by Artiste-Tunisien

The second track, “Ghita et Fezzani,” is led by Clement Hayoun. It is a variant of stambeli, the trance inducing music that often comes with mizwid (North African bagpipe) and zukra (horn), which I have written about recently. I think you’re gonna enjoy this one as well.

It seems that for much of his career, Doukha was the wedding, Bar Mitzvah, and other event singer of Tunis’ Jewish community. I searched the internet far and wide for memories of Doukha (in multiple languages) but could find only a few scattered ones on the various message boards of the Tunisian Jewish diaspora. Hopefully this post will make the rounds and we can bring more of Doukha to the fore.

One almost final note. I’m going to be doing a fair bit of traveling over the next few months and through the summer (Boston, Spain, Israel, Poland, France - to name but a few) and will be bringing records with me. If you want to put together a night of North African vinyl, shoot me an email and we’ll see if we can make something happen.

Finally, Chag Sameach and Happy Passover!

Tunisia's 78 rpm Era: Reflections on Habiba Messika, Cheikh El Afrite & My Recent Travel to Tunis

The Jewish cemetery at Bourgel in Tunis

Cheikh El Afrite's grave at Bourgel

On my final day in post-revolutionary Tunisia, I headed to the vast Jewish cemetery at Bourgel aiming to find and pay tribute to the final resting places of Tunis’ musical superstars of years past. While the cemetery itself is in a discouraging state of disrepair, the tombs of Habiba Messika and Cheikh El Afrite, two of said vedettes, are readily identifiable, if not difficult to reach. There is a feeling one gets when visiting a mostly abandoned Jewish cemetery in North Africa. In seeking a particular grave, you often have to wade through trash, sidestep discarded beer bottles, whack away overgrowth, and climb over other broken graves with names no longer legible. When you reach your destination, it is both unsettling and uplifting and most certainly a religious experience.

Cassette digging for Habiba Messika

Tunisians’ memory of Habiba Messika, the young Jewish singer, actress, and diva, who took Tunis by storm in the 1920s, is at once fierce and fading. Her cassettes, made from copies of copies of her scare 78 rpm recordings, are easily available in the myriad CD and tape shops around the city. Ask just about anyone – young or old – and they “remember” her. This, of course, is despite the fact that most do not actually remember. While Messika’s brutal murder by a jealous suitor was front-page news across the Maghreb and in Paris at the time, it also occurred over eighty years ago, in 1930, and most were not around to ever see her or hear her live at the Municipal Theatre, at the Casino in La Goulette, or anywhere else. Much like her music now, the memories of Messika are copies of copies. Of course, this makes them no less real but as a result certain details have fallen to the wayside. Thus her Jewishness, very real at the time, comes as shock to quite a few when revealed. Messika, like so many other things in Tunis, has been nationalized.

Stack of broken 78s with Narraci sleeve peeking out

Between meetings and visits to the archives, I went in search of records. On one of my first days in the country, I was encouraged by a find in the medina: a stack of shellac, all with purple sleeves of Joseph Narraci, one of the earliest indigenous (and Jewish) record companies in North Africa. Unfortunately, not a one contained a Narraci-produced record. In fact, most Tunisian records, especially 78s, have disappeared, many thrown out in the transition to vinyl, others captive in storage spaces around Tunisia and in attics in Paris. What stock does exist – in the medina, brocantes, and the occasional used bookstore - is either Western rock or Egyptian. If you’re looking for Um Kulthum on Odeon, you’re in luck, if you’re searching for Gaston Bsiri, bonne chance. While this was personally disappointing, it also served in a way as a testament to a phenomenon reported on by Tunisian observers of the 78-era – Egyptian discs were flooding the market. Only by supporting local artists, critics claimed, could this deluge be averted.

After a little less than two weeks in Tunis (not nearly enough time), I left feeling nostalgic for a place I never really knew. Strolling down Rue Al-Djazair, adjacent to the medina, brings one face-to-face with the once flagship record store of Joseph Narraci, as well as one of the former cinema districts of the silent and then talkie era. Cutting over to Rue Charles De Gaulle, transports you to the small empire of Bembaron, Jewish brothers and impresarios, who began their work by importing harmoniums and ended by creating a powerhouse label which captured the some of the city’s most impressive voices. The TGM (Tunis-La Goulette-Marsa) train is a journey back in time. As it traces the edge of the lake, children pry open the doors to get that fresh, salted wind in their face, only to be pulled back by the scruff of their necks by a responsible adult – much the same, I imagine, as it was sixty years ago. Descending at the La Goulette – Casino stop hurls you straight into Tunis’ music-hall capital, where Jews, Sicilians, Maltese, Greeks, and Muslims jostled for a seat at one of the various music venues around town. At the Casino, one might have caught a show by Messika and Hassan Banane, Cheikh El Afrite or Dalila Taliana. As I dined at one of the seaside restaurants - with some of the freshest fish I have ever tasted - I daydreamed of Raoul Journo, perhaps with Kakino De Paz, crooning about exil in El Ouach ouel Ghorba.

Nostalgia is a double-edged sword though, as it requires absence to make it its most powerful. During my first day in the archives, a young graduate student took an interest in me and we began a conversation. She asked me what I worked on and I told her I was studying the early years of the North African recording industry. She said I must study the Jewish musicians then if I was really serious about the topic. Encouraged, I told her that that was indeed my focus and in fact, I was Jewish. She went blank. You can’t say that here, she said. Not everyone was as open as she was, she claimed. Similarly, while Bachir Rsaissi’s Rsaissi label draws instant recognition among those in the know, the uttering of his Jewish counterparts – Narraci and Bembaron - is met with confusion and the polite protest that those names, in fact, are not Tunisian. Acher Mizrahi, a favorite of Habib Bourghiba long after independence, also sounds impossibly foreign to some.

El Kahlaoui Tounsi 45 in a dust-filled brocante

Despite all this (or perhaps because of it), Tunisia has grabbed my attention in a way I never thought it would. The Tunisians I spent time with were all supportive of my work, even if it was not their area of expertise. Many went completely out of their way to help me and I hope by giving a little more volume to the critically important history of the music industry in North Africa, I can someday soon return the favor.

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.

Raoul Journo, Memories of Tunisian Jewish Music and Kol Nidre

It is impossible to ignore the influence of Algerian and Tunisian music on Moroccan music and vice versa. That is why in the years I have been collecting records, I have moved from focusing only on Moroccan music produced in Israel to Moroccan music in general and on to Algerian and Tunisian as well.  I have also concentrated on North African Arabic music as performed by Jews but when I’m so moved I also will pick up something performed in Hebrew or even Aramaic like Kol Nidre.

Raoul Journo et Alain Scetbon. Kol Nidre: Chantent à l’orientale 3 mélodies hébraïques.

Festival Records (FX45-1543). 1970s

So today, Jewish Morocco goes to Tunisia via France. I have digitized both sides of a Raoul Journo and Alain Scetbon EP entitled Kol Nidre: Chantent à l’orientale 3 mélodies hébraïques produced by Festival Records (FX45-1543) in France circa 1970s. Raoul Journo and Alain Scetbon are accompanied by Victor Zeitoun on the qanun. “This record represents the first time that Raoul Journo and Alain Scetbon have performed together,” says the liner notes on the back cover of the record. Journo and Scetbon use the “most authentic Tunisian synagogue melody and thus this disc is an indisputable document.” The notes also express hope that the talent of the musicians on this disc might “rescue from oblivion the important cultural wealth of the once prosperous North African Jewish communities.”

Raoul Journo was born in 1911 in Tunis, Tunisia to a Jewish family. By his twenties he was already recording for Polyphon and Pathe. He left Tunisia in 1965, a full 9 years after Tunisian independence, and later continued to record for Pathe, Dounia, Bel Air and others. He was truly one of the greatest Tunisian vocalists, if not the greatest, of the modern era. It is said that the Egyptian singer Mohammed Abdel Wahab sought him out frequently and even attended his concert at the Olympia in Paris. Raoul Journo died in 2001 and is buried in Jerusalem.

Alain Scetbon, also known as Rabbi Mikhael-Alain Scetbon, was another Tunisian-born singer known for his piyyutim while Victor Zeitoun, the qanoun player on this EP, was also born in Tunisia. There are some fantastic Youtube recordings of Alain Scetbon out there but I have seen little to nothing written of Victor Zeitoun. I will work on getting some information on him. It always amazes me that only a few years after the deaths of many of these great musicians, so little is written about them. I hope in some small way that this blog can contribute to their memory.

The first side of this record is the Kol Nidre prayer. Kol Nidre is recited every Yom Kippur and is one of the most awe-inspiring (and controversial) pieces of Jewish liturgy. It is most often described as haunting. This is a very different Kol Nidre. It is less haunting, more rhythmic and to me more spiritually uplifting. The qanun accompaniment is incredibly powerful. Listen to Raoul Journo, Alain Scetbon and Victor Zeitoun perform Kol Nidre here.

Raoul Journo et Alain Scetbon. Kol Nidre (Festival Records - FX45-1543). 1970s. by CBSilver

The second side is two different prayers – Kilou Nahi and Il Nora Alila. Kilou Nahi is a hymn to the glory of God and his reign while Il Nora Alila (also El Nora Alila) is a piyyut, a liturgical acrostic poem set to music, which is part of the closing Neilah service for Yom Kippur. Listen to Raoul Journo, Alain Scetbon and Victor Zeitoun perform Kilou Nahi and Il Nora Alila here.

Raoul Journo et Alain Scetbon. Kilou Nahi, Il Nora Alila (Festival Records - FX45-1543). 1970s. by CBSilver