News from the Interzone: Singapore, Late August 2005

It was just too cheap to fly on Tiger Air from Phuket not to go to WOMAD this year in Singapore. After a grueling hot week working on the set of the Hallmark channel Blackbeard miniseries, where as a scene extra, I got to hurl insults at Richard Chamberlin as they hauled him off to London on charges of conspiring with Blackbeard (What can I say? I live for small joys like that!), I had gone to Phuket really to see George Romero's Land of the Dead, with Dennis Hopper and Asia Argento.

Can't say I was disappointed, but I have always been terrified of Romero's creations. In any case the island of Phuket is beautiful but the tourism there is mass packaged Eurotrash on a bender, although I had the advantage of staying at the peaceful and relatively remote Shanti Lodge but a few days here was really enough for me so I hopped on a plane for the festival. I wanted to do something like this for the time around Labor day as normally I would be at Bumbershoot in Seattle or pursuing something like Burning Man (which I have still never attended)

Singapore. What can I say about Singapore except that you probably couldn't pay me enough to live there full time. It's more than a little bit sterile. Everyone's really nice in that way they are in science fiction stories about Utopian societies where everything seems nice. Everyone's friendly but there's obviously something profoundly wrong about the place. You just can't quite put your finger on it and, if you did, a black van would come and sweep you up for debriefing and re-education.

I hadn't really wanted to come to Singapore, really the festival and the need to renew my Thai visa were the driving factors, so when I arrived I did what one does in South Asia, I went to a mall. Actually it was really hot and I just wanted to go to the movies so I went and saw the new Charlie and the Chocolate factory, which I found quite disappointing really, except that some of the Oompa-Loompa dance routines reminded me of the Rocky Horror picture show (plus the pleasure of seeing Christopher Lee as an evil dentist!).

Well, malls are malls and, Singapore is full of them with little else to recommend it really but, the park is nice enough. Fort Canning Park the location of the festival. Lots of trees, with a fair number of ancient Banyans scattered around drooping their wondrous symbiotic vines to the ground.

Right off I met a Turkish guy at the Istanboulia booth. So happy that I speak Turkish--typically Turkish. At first he gives a me a tiny nazar on a pin to promote the business but after I make contact and he decides I am a Turkophile he presents me with a hediye "present" a small embroidered bookmark. I try to imagine an American giving a random stranger a gift just for showing a little enthusiasm or knowledge about America.

The hot day is winding down and evening is settling on the city.

Nice mellow festival but no hippies. Friendly staff. I joked around with a security guy who had a bag full of all access badges about getting one. He told me I would be better off enjoying the festival than working security. But I cant imagine they had much headache with security since the people of Singapore are so cowed into submission by the fascist state they all live in.

Did I mention how well behaved everyone at the festival seems. Lots of booze and wine in sight though. Don't expect to smell much ganja this weekend. Kind of a deterrent when they KILL YOU for it

The pretty Chinese girls on the blanket next to me need help opening their wine; of course I volunteer and receive a glass of warm white for me efforts. But they are not really friendly, so I focus on the first act, sometimes conversing with the much friendlier Swiss guy on the other side of me.

The first act is from Sri Lanka. Ravibandhu Vidyapathy & Ensemble . A flautist and a drummer seated on the ground playing a clay pot . Soon joined by 9 handsomely dressed dancers. Prancing around with white shrouds over their legs. Legs and ankle ajingle with bells and brass hoops. White turbaned with red stringed tassels and bobbins. Syncopated spinning drummers banging on two sided hanging drums black and red collars necklaces with silver wedges every now and then they whip their necks and let fly the red tassels and bobbins The flute and the talking conga thingies, along with triple drum guy and a 4 cats with tiny little percussive sticks begin a heavy Sri Lankan jam an improvised Japanese melody 2 drummers with crazy yellow Shiva dancers and multifaceted colorful costumes with black leggings and gold ankles spinning around like crazy they get the crowd to join in:

'dim-dah-dah-dim-dim-dim-dah dah-dah-da-dim-dim dugga dugga'

Wow! Sinhalese drum rap!

The Swiss guy informs me that this is some kind of ancient way of instructing drummers throughout India

Leaving the main stage I wandered up to the top stage, surrounded as it is by massive Banyans. It is a smaller and much more intimate stage with so far a small crowd (everyone still seated) Melodic strains from Lior, an Australian with some roots in Palestine/Israel

Not a bad show but, the best thing going was watching the horrified amusement of a teenage boy and his companions at the lurid dancing on a 40-something Chinese slut in hot pants. (She was a recurring sight throughout the festival and I later learned that she is always prominent on the scene there.) The festival so far had been dominated (At least in so far as the people who seemed to have a pulse or were not totally committed picnickers) by teenagers, mostly Western teenagers. 4 1/2 million people living in Singapore and only a few thousand show up for the first day of a world class festival like this? After 8 years of having the festival there?! (It was a lot more crowded the following day anyways, plus they clearly have a lot of corporate and city sponsorship)

Anyways Lior was pretty good if a little moody but his last two songs got pretty heavy political about the Mideast crisis . A Hebrew prayer for compassion , and a song in English about bullets and tanks and such. It was a little cheesier than moving to Be honest so I lost interest and moved along. Went for another beer and headed back to the main stage again to see: (9:15 pm) Akim El Sikameya. Well at first only the three Indians (whom I had already seen were apparently some of the few people there absolutely determined to enjoy themselves as of yet) were dancing so far but, Akim would break the ice soon enough.

The Maghreb and Andalusia intertwined. Lilting Arabic singing in pop-rai style with bits of French and loads of Spanish influence. Bred with French-style accordion and Spanish violin playing by Akim. Simply outstanding. I began to dance with the Indians and soon enough a few more people had joined in . Within 2 songs many more had joined in, perhaps 100 or so. Towards the end of his set he got pretty much the whole sluggish boring crowd on their feet (It reminded me of Seattle only much, much worse.). Slackers kept their picnic posts .

Akim lives in Paris. Fundie fuckers in Algeria would kill him for sure for being this good--having way too much fun and inciting people to dance and engage in decadence. Tut-tut.

After the fantastic performance the production team promised clips from the African portions of Live 8 Africa so I headed up top again to catch some of that.

I met Stephen and Francis from Holland, ultra cool Dutch folk very nice. He is doing a PhD in Philosophy comparing east and west . Sadly he knew little of Plato though. We watched videos of Thomas Mapfumo, Youssou N'Dour and others while they told me a bit about Singapore.

Distracted by the low volume of the video display (I went and complained to the idiot sound man. He finally turned it up. Although on the whole the sound quality of the shows was very good all weekend.)

I wandered over to the other small stage and lo and behold found myself 10 feet from Bill Cobham, master drummer who played with Miles Davis and created the Mahavishnu Orchestra with John McLaughlin. One of the nice things about a simpering and apologetic place like Singapore is that you can push your way right up front with ease. Oh! 6 feet away! What mastery! What artistry! What rhythms! Who knew? I had suspected anyhow, and now feel a bit silly that I missed him so many times at Bumbershoot in Seattle. After his first long piece he addressed the audience on the topics of artistry, performance and the importance of an audience. He is a really great speaker actually and conferred on the audience some of his joy of being an artist, speaking of the 'community' of instruments that are his kit and how they allowed him to present to the world aspects of his own persona. How important the basics are to master any craft etc.

I had not yet fully realized how strongly this festival was geared towards drums and percussion, largely in anticipation of the upcoming festival in Sri Lanka next month. But this was to be impressed upon me by the following performance when I wandered down to the main stage and witnessed the mad frenetic rhythms of the Dhol Foundation. Fronted by one of the guys from the Afro Celt Sound System, this is an ensemble featuring the Dhol, a two ended drum from India used by the Punjabi in their harvest ceremonies. It is extremely loud and played with sticks made from cane. Accompanied by a bass guitar, another drummer on a kit, a guitar player, and a conga player, these guys are like the drummers of Burundi on Viagra and Cocaine. The power of their drums is complemented by strong stage presence and theatrics clearly drawn from the AfroCelt experience. Once they get rolling these guys carry the audience away with them and get them whipped up into as dance frenzy. Awesome!

What an incredible first day for as festival!!! Along with the crowd I wandered back up the hill to see the after-hours DJ performance by the UK Future World Funk, very heavy and groovy vibes from around the world mixed with house and trance stuff. With good lighting and special effects in the small outdoor space, and hundreds of beautiful young Indian girls swaying along the sides of the small hillock across from the stage, surrounded by smoke from the fog machines the scene took on a very unreal quality. I hung and danced with the Dutch and my Indian friends for awhile before giving in to my fatigue and rolling home for the evening.

The following day after sleeping in and watching news I was determined to see something of the city so I went up the road from where I was staying into one of the more 'historic' areas' . I use this term loosely as almost all of the old buildings have been torn down or redeveloped. After feasting on some strange but yummy Chinese food I headed over to the Singapore art museum, the world's largest collection of paintings by Singaporean artists. Housed in a series of oddly shaped buildings not very well coordinated for moving around , there are hundreds of paintings here. Not a bad museum really, better than I had expected and well-documented in English and Chinese. Throughout the exhibit there are quotations from Singaporean artists over the last century. I was floored by one of them , written in the 30's, condemning Pablo Picasso and his cubism on political grounds, rejecting him as anti humanist and invoking the responsibility of artists to always act politically and be on their guard against such decadence and depravity. Artists being the first line of defense against such moral decay and sinister influence. I was reminded of that great song by Jonathan Richman from the 80's "Nobody calls Pablo Picasso an Asshole."

Well museums are exhausting so I went back and relaxed for as bit before the festival began again.

Around 6 pm, I slogged over to the festival grounds and stated the evening with a Macadamia nut fudge brownie and a Heineken. Despite the rigors of Singapore security they were allowing people in with coolers and even multiple bottles of beer or wine. But they had booths on site for cocktails and beer as well.

After greeting the Turks at the Istanboulia booth I slid over to the nearby stage where a Latin Group had just begun their set. They soon became my favorite band at the festival, Asere from Cuba. Classic Cuban rhythms and vocals. After getting warmed up a bit they smoothed into a good rapport with the audience by inviting us to learn a few dance moves. Of course as usual in such situations it was mostly Ladies who stepped forward, but soon the whole crowd got into it. Simple 3 step Cha Cha Cha, progressing first side to side then forwards backwards and then finally with a swirling of the hips. They were to revisit this in their performances later that day and the following day as well. Sanuk mark. A lot of energy for the first show of the day. I missed whatever was on the main stage, French brothers I think. Soon thereafter Billy Cobham got up on the top stage and got rolling with his masterly performance. Once again it was crafted perfection but it was not as exciting, as the crowd remained seated throughout, content to watch his moves on the massive video displays set up on the sdid of the stage. I headed down to the main stage and saw the Israeli band of Idan again. (More about the Idan Raichel Project.) The same show as the day before and again a Little less intimate as the main stage has a security buffer zone of 6 meters or so but he got a huge audience response or rather his singers did, an Ethiopian rasta, a gorgeous Ethiopian lady and a stunning Arab woman

I still wanted to see my fave from the day before, Akim, again so I headed up top and caught a stellar ripping show. Dancing hard and raging with my new friends from India, who as usual were dancing like crazy. Additionally they had bottle of Sauza Gold with them. Sweating profusely and flushing with excitement and enthusiasm we went down to the main stage and caught the amazing and enchanting music of a group of Tuareg nomads from the Saharan reaches of Mali. They have the same general sound and vibe as Ali Farka Toure, but it would not be until the workshop on the following day that the enormity of what I was witnessing would finally sink in. Well anyways after a snack and some more tequila it was back up top to those crazy Cubans Asere. They were totally amazing, building the crowd into a frenzy, again stimulating a dance fever with the Cha Cha by Alejandro and generally promoting a kind of Latin Madness that absorbed and consumed the crowd. Sweltering and throbbing with Cuban vibes we ambled over to the main stage again where the 'headline' act was going on; Apache Indian and the Reggae Revolution. Well they were OK I suppose and although I doubt he's got any real Apache in him the lead singer is a real Indian, albeit from Leeds or Birmingham or something. But I have just seen way too many really spectacular reggae shows over the years tro be much impressed by this second tier stuff , and as I expressed to my friends they just can't get a band of real rastas much less Jamaicans to come to a country where they kill you for smoking ganja, so we'd have to settle for reggae from the UK. But one highlight was Desmond Dekker's The Israelites. Although when they played an encore of Bob Marley 'One Love' I felt mostly pity for the blissfully unaware and deprived Singaporeans.

What a boring and useless place really. Did I mention that I am not thrilled by Singapore? (Oh, sorry, Big Brother!) They are lucky to have something as special as WOMAD every year. We headed over to the DJ space but it was nowhere near as good as the previous day, so we headed out, taking taxis to the Marriott where we visited an empty club called the Living Room. It was already 2 am and all the tables were all reserved but no one was there yet. Apparently it fills up with businessmen and Russian whores around 4 am. So we split and went to the Newton food courts where we indulged in Crayfish and Stingray.

Sunday I was running a little slow getting out. Was too fascinated watching an old episode of Miami Vice starring my old schoolmate Kyra Sedgwick alongside Phil Collins: the most amazing 80's tripe featuring seaside mansions filled with cocaine and feathered hair, a caricature of the 80's really, perhaps the inspirational vehicle for the Amber Lynn takeoff 'Miami Spice' . and Kyra wearing silver clothing and dealing coke to stupid yuppies. Too much! Also that day I finally went to an internet cafe, needing to book a flight for the next day. A little weird really, thinking that I was probably being monitored on every site I visited (although apparently Singapore unlike China apparently polices the internet through heavy fines and closures of ISPs rather than outright censorship). I stopped for a sandwich at the hotel next door, which seemed nice enough from the outside but inside was teeming with aging and ugly ladyboys (the sandwich wasn't much good either.).

So i was delayed and sadly caught only the last five minutes or so of Tinariwan on the top stage. But they were great so I determined to see their workshop later that evening. Billy Cobham again on the small top stage, this time with the Sri Lankans, so grabbing a brownie and a beer I went over to witness their antics. Great sound and stupendous to watch them talking back and forth with their drums. East and west collide in a cascade of rhythms. Fantastic. It is tempting to go to Sri Lanka to see the resumption of this pounding madness. Anyways when it was over we were treated to yet another magnificent display by the Dhol Foundation, this time with even more energy and fervor. More pounding energies and heavy rhythms accompanied by a good visual performance and the rabid enthusiasm of the crowd so much energy expended we needed a little break so walked around a bit and caught some of Sheila Masjid, a Malay jazz singer, popular here but really quite boring I thought.

Still, an hour or so walking about and talking with various people was a good way to get in the right spirit for what was to be the absolute highlight of the weekend for me

In the small air-conditioned room in the building at the centre of the festival they had been having various workshops all weekend, of which I had checked out a few. But I was keen to see Tinariwan again in a smaller setting; accompanied by a Frenchman, apparently their manager and a huge enthusiast, they sat on a small stage with their instruments in their tribal garb, while the Frenchman narrated (in English) a history of the Tuareg over the last half century and their tribulations, personal histories and the development of their music. This was interspersed by their magical music. Additionally one of the women from the tribe had brewed some desert tea which we were allowed to sample. this workshop had a truly surreal character to it. I felt transported. between the power of their story and the beauty and purity of their music it had a mystical quality to it that was enchanting.

these guys really broke onto the international scene at the incredibly remote Festival in the Desert, out in the wastes beyond Timbuktu. I had known about the festival but had not realized that too was a cultural event that was the fruition of decades of historical events and the lives of the members of Tinariwan

Wow I highly recommend this group especially if you can see them in an intimate setting or small venue

we rounded out the weekend with another high-energy session with Asere, this time accompanied by Billy Cobham, an excellent way to end an excellent weekend. If I were in the region again at this time of year I would definitely return to WOMAD Singapore.

I fled the city the next morning to the quite different city of Bangkok, but that is quite another story.

Here is the description of the Tinariwen from the WOMAD website:

'The Touaregs are the nomadic Berber people of the southern Sahara desert and the renowned Touareg rockers Tinariwen, from the remote north east of Mali, are legendary throughout the region. Their music recalls the African blues of Ali Farka Toure, only edgier, meaner and deeper. Roots rock rebels for real. It revolves around the electric guitar, onto the which original band members Ibrahim Ag Alhabib and Alhassane Ag Touhami transposed the traditional melodies and rhythms of their people to create a raw, soulful and utterly new form of music. The guitars are supplemented by percussion, handclaps and rousing call and response vocals that deliver insights on nature, politics, love, exile, loss and the realities of desert life. This is a music that will transport you to the wide horizons of the Sahara, and bathe you in deep and soulful desert blues.'