Nat Pwe: Burma’s Carnival of Spirit Soul DVD Jemaa el Fna: Morocco’s Rendezvous of the Dead, Night Music of Marrakech DVD Folk Music of the Sahara: Among the Tuareg of Libya DVD and other releases on the Sublime Frequencies label
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Most recordings marketed as world music tend to fall into one of two categories, the would-be pure (folkloric field recordings or attempts to simulate pristine traditional performances in studio settings) or the candidly profane (taverna and countless other Western-inflected hybrid forms the world over). Some of the latter are driven by the idiosyncratic creative impulses of highly self-conscious artists, as in the case of the Cuban-bred hip-hop group Orishas or the Spanish electronic flamenco outfit Ojos de Brujo; other hybrids result from performers’ (or producers’) naive efforts to achieve crossover success in foreign lands. Certain cultures are better borrowers than others: Brazil’s musical output is nearly as rich and diverse as America’s, and while much of it makes use of outside influences, the best rarely feels anything less than organic.
Part of what separates Sublime Frequencies from other enthomusicological imprints is its bare-bones approach to matters of cultural context. Where other labels stuff their jewel cases with quasi-academic essays in eye-straining print, the liner notes to Sublime Frequencies CDs are skeletal, usually consisting of little more than a note on how the contents were collected or recorded. The DVDs feature vibrant performance footage but no narration or talking-head exposition. Alan Bishop recently justified the policy in a Seattle Weekly cover story. “I’m not an idiot,” said Bishop. “I can figure out what’s going on most of the time. Many other people are not idiots. They can make up their own mind about how to interpret non-narrated film. Why not completely superimpose yourself into [another] world without some schmuck–even if it’s some well-intentioned schmuck–telling you what’s going on?”
More rewarding is the two-CD set I Remember Syria, which combines radio broadcasts, street noise, the sounds of a wedding, calls to prayer, pop songs, and conversations between the recordist, Mike Gergis, and assorted English-speaking Syrians. Less erratic than the radio collages, the recording functions as an evocative sonic portrait of the city of Damascus and neighboring towns.
