For Mawja, her fifth album (her fourth for Glitterbeat Records), the Sahrawi songwriter, musician and activist Aziza Brahim has not only broadly emulated the template which has proven to be so successful thus far but has also enhanced her sonic palette with further excursions into broader musical realms.
Thus, her latest release, Mawja, continues to feature her trademark fusion of haul, the traditional rhythmic roots of her Saharawi culture, alongside the Iberian and Cuban sounds which have influenced her on her life journey to date, together with an expansion of percussion sounds from around the globe together with an exploration of elements such as Clash drum patterns. In her words, “It’s very rooted in the blues, but with an inclination towards punk – desert punk!”
Several further recurring elements are also in evidence, including the powerful storytelling of the songs’ lyrics, her passionate, heartfelt voice, the central role played by her tabal, an instrument exclusively played by women which forms the backbone of her music, and the contributions of her band, by now a tight-knit unit, in particular long-term musical associate Guillem Aguilar, who not only provides, variously electric bass, double string bass, mandola, electric and acoustic guitars but is also credited with co-arranging and co-producing the album with Aziza.
The history and ongoing struggle of her country of birth, Western Sahara, and its impact on her, her family and fellow country-people continue to be a defining element of her work, a brief exploration of which gives some context to the music.
Aziza was born in a refugee camp in Algeria in a region known to the Saharawi as Hamada after her pregnant mother and other family members, along with the majority of Saharawis, were forced to leave Western Sahara following the Moroccan and Mauritanian invasion in 1976. Many of her family members were musicians and spent much time listening to the radio. She discovered a passion for music, encouraged particularly by the most prominent artistic influence on her life, her grandmother, who, despite being illiterate, was a poet and documenter of the invasion.
Cuba’s support of the Saharawis manifested itself in many ways, and Aziza, as a child, received a scholarship to go to that country and gain an education. As she was unable to study music, she returned to the refugee camps in 1995, aged 19, to follow a musical career, winning a national song competition that same year. Since 2000, she has lived in exile in Spain.
Her previous release, Sahari, reviewed here for KLOF Mag in 2019, received great plaudits, and on the back of the critical acclaim, a European tour was arranged. Things began to crumble around her, however. Aziza suffered an anxiety crisis, and just as she was recovering, the Covid pandemic and lockdown took place, putting an end to the plans and setting her back, health-wise. A further setback occurred in 2020 when Moroccan forces and the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic, (SADR), clashed, leading to an ongoing war in the Western Sahara. This litany of events culminated, a year later, in one further major blow: the loss of her beloved grandmother, Ljadra, Lkhadra Mint Mabruk.
Finding solace in the refuge of music-making, this recent adversity has helped inform and inspire her latest album. Mawja, meaning Wave in Hassaniya Arabic, and a reference to those times spent listening to the radio in the refugee camps and the word that her grandparents would utter as they changed stations, Medium Wave, FM, is at once both rooted in the personal and wider, drawing from themes such as pain and loss, suffering, respect for elders and traditions, exile, conflict, the struggle for freedom, sorrow and desire, and is Janus-like in outlook, being both retrospective but also looking to the future with hope and optimism.
Musically, the fusion of cultures experienced in her diverse education, including Spanish (specifically guitar and a vast range of Iberian percussion instruments), Cuban and African, are anchored by her deep knowledge and appreciation of traditional Saharawi song and sound, all of which are crowned by her majestic voice. The result is an album of ten first-rate, mood-shifting tracks.
In addition to a clutch of guest contributions, the musicians/singers credited on the release are Aziza Brahim (voice, tabal, Spanish guitar, backing vocals, esgarit), Badra Abdallahe, (esgarit and backing vocals), Guillem Aguilar, (electric bass, double string bass, mandola, electric and acoustic guitar), Ignasi Cussó, (electric and acoustic guitar), Aleix Tobias, (drums and percussion – square tambourine, krin, tama, legüero, almirez, triangles, sabar, calabash, bendir, tambourine, shells, bells, seourouba and different percussion effects), Andreu Moreno, (drums and caxixis).
Aziza begins the album by returning to her childhood with Bein trab u lijhar (Among stones and sand), which references her memories of a game she played in the refugee camp. The power of her voice is immediately apparent before the percussion beats give way to backing vocals and a gentle guitar solo on a track which is catchy in the extreme.
Thajliba features guest musician and former band member Kalilou Sangare, who delivers Saharan desert-rock-style electric guitar with aplomb. Within the Sahrawi tradition (the word is interchangeable with Saharawi), a thajliba is a poem/praise song expressing enthusiasm towards another person, and here Aziza sings of unconditional love from a mother to her daughter in her pursuit of individual freedom.
“I love my daughter
with her uniqueness and her values…
… you have my blessing
in everything you do.” (all translations taken from the liner notes)
Aziza is also joined on this track, as she was on the previous one, by her sister, Badra Abdallahe, who again provides backing vocals and esgarit (or ezgarit), the sound emitted by Saharawi women with a movement of the tongue at high speed to manifest their joy.
Two songs in particular pay homage to her late grandmother. The first, Duaa (Prayer), is a prayer in honour of her memory. On this melodically mournful, slow tempo offering, with tasteful guitar once more from Kalilou and the merest hint of notes on the hulusi, a free reed instrument, from Xavi Lozano, Aziza’s voice shines in a moving tribute to Lkhadra.
In the second, Ljaima Likbira (The big haima), Aziza again sings of her grandmother, the matriarch of her grandparents’ home called “the big haima”, in which she was born and raised. Intricate drum percussion patterns and vocals interplay for nearly a minute before Western blues-sounding guitar notes enter over her Arabic lyrics on one of the album’s more instrumentally spartan tracks. A dramatic change in beat mid-way through paves the way for more piercing esgarit ululations in this heartfelt tribute to “Mint Lmabruk, mother and poet.”
Marhabna 2.1 (Welcome 2.1) is a re-working of Marhabna, a track first recorded on her 2012 album, Mabruk, and is barely recognisable from the original. Reflecting the traditional warm Arabic welcome, the song is uplifting and bright, with Aziza’s vocals alternating between deep and with a slight quivering vibrato. The addition of delicate wind sounds from themohoceño, (Bolivian duct flute), of Xavier, bring a South American vibe to the song which was certainly not a feature of the original.
Her vibrato voice is also featured in Bubisher, a song with lyrics by Bacher Ali that focuses on lighter aspects of life. In Sahrawi literature, the legendary bubisher bird is deemed lucky, and its sighting the harbinger of good news, and as such lent its name to a project which started in 2008 in the Smara refugee camp and continues today as a network of libraries located in all the camps, funded by people from Spain. Prominent bass notes open the song, with choppy percussion and picked guitar lines providing a Western sensitivity which belies the Algerian lyrics.
In contrast, the title track, Mawja (Wave), is one of the least Western-sounding songs in the collection. Jaunty and upbeat, the lyrics espouse an optimism and celebration of her Sahrawi culture.
“I feel dignity, confidence and freedom.
Turn up the volume of the secret wave
and dance the melody of joy and music
because it is the source of our wishes and of the truth.”
In a similar vein, the vocal delivery in Haiyu ya zawar (Cheer, Oh, revolutionaries), with its traditional Sahrawi lyrics of resistance and struggle, is also very much from the Arabic mould, at times imploring and intoning resistance, whilst at others almost spoken.
“Oh, Sahrawi revolutionary people!
We are revolutionaries!
And the Sahrawi free land
is for Sahrawis!”
In a fascinating juxtaposition, however, a Spanish influence is provided by Raúl Rodríguez, creator of a style called tres flamenco, which combines elements of son Cubano and el toque, the art of flamenco guitar playing. Add the persistent beats of her tabal hand-drum and the polyrhythmic percussion, and the three sides of the geographical triangle informing her history – Sahrawi, Cuba and Spain are pulled together in musical unity.
Metal, madera (Metal, wood) is a bold venture firmly rooted in blues. It fairy rocks and fizzes along, with the vocal patterns repeated by the electric guitar, combining a Western blues feel interspersed with Saharan/Malian guitar figures. To obtain the feel and sound she wanted, Aziza made the drummer listen to her favourite Clash songs.
The album closes with a compellingly beautiful song, Fuadi (My heart). With lyrics written by Zaim Alal (Hamdi Uld Allal Uld Daf), a poet activist fighter in the Sahrawi People’s Liberation Army against Moroccan occupation and holder of many positions in the SADR, the pain of separation is heartfelt
“for me, that division,
and for you too, is heartbreaking
I need to get to you
some day to heal
my heart after diaspora
and may the reunion give it happiness.”
The atmospheric, opening woodwind notes from guest Greek musician Christos Barbas’ end-blown ney flute lead to a smouldering, entrancing song as percussion, stringed instruments and Aziza’s alluring vocals combine to deliver a moving and memorable performance.
This latest album from Aziza Brahim marks yet another positive, forward step in her musical development whilst also nobly continuing to call for her people’s freedom, a cause she undertakes with dignity and respect.
Mawja is not only a compelling listen but also truly representative of music without frontiers. It is to be hoped that an end to the ongoing conflict and the Saharawi self-determination that she so dearly wishes to see is ever closer.
Stream: https://idol-io.ffm.to/mawja
Website: https://azizabrahim.com/