Libyan reggae, blues sung in Guadeloupean Creole, industrial remembrances, Gaelic folk, and stripped-back songs of heartbreak rank among some of the standout folk releases this month. What they all have in common is a sense of the local within the global, at differing geographic and time scales, ultimately boiling down to people’s relationships to one another and to the soil they live on.
Benghazi’s premier reggae artist Ahmed Ben Ali arrives on Habibi Funk for a full-length LP with material from his mid-2000s career. While reggae’s worldwide appeal is undeniable, the bouncing off-beat chants of Libyan chaabi music have a parallel in reggae’s staccato guitar and piano rhythms, which might explain the country’s particular affinity for the genre. “To me it’s still original reggae, it’s the Libyan style, not some bullshit,” writes Ben Ali in the liner notes—a style pioneered by the likes of Ibrahim Hesnawi, Najib al Housh, and the White Birds Band. And that style is on full display here, the familiar swaying bass and syncopated kick-kick-snare of reggae meshing with Ben Ali’s AutoTuned Arabic ‘ma’am’ on “Ya Ghalian Alakheera.” “Ya Ghayeb” employs maqsoum percussion and accordion breakdowns alongside a steady dembow.
Kasimyn (aka Aditya Surya Taruna) arrives on Amman label Drowned By Locals with his solo project HULUBALANG, processing Indonesia’s bloody history of war via industrial electronics. But it’s not a political statement that he’s aiming for; rather, it’s a small tribute to the side characters in the grand narratives of history. A gesture may contain a politics of its own, though. This is not the distorted blitz of Gabber Modus Operandi, of which Kasimyn is a member, but a slower burn, one that brings his production into a more introspective space. “Kemaut” is a mess of percussion and whirring, while “Liang” errs on the side of drone and noise. It’s a folk album for the unheard, where muffled grunts intersperse a metallic, war-torn soundscape.
Northern Ghanaian town Bolgatanga has a thriving music scene, and Frafra gospel might be its lifeblood. Alogte Oho and choir the Sounds of Joy (Lizzy Amaliyenga, Patricia Adongo, and Florence Adooni) return with O Yinne!, a record that combines praise with undeniable groove. The choir leads the way on tracks like “La Ka Ba’a,” with Oho chiming in between their breaths. At other times, they all sing in unison—“Te Bola Be?” has Oho and choir over jaunty guitar fingerpicking and just the slightest trace of a woodblock. This is not your typical gospel sound: there’s even a bit of reggae that rears its head on “Yinne Te Yelle Be,” while “A Lemine Me” almost begins like a tropical interpolation of Miles Davis’s “So What,” showcasing the sonic potpourri that is Frafra gospel.
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