Gnawa Nova Show Recap
On the night of Thursday May 6th, I headed to Nublu on Avenue C & 10th street to see Gnawa Nova. This was my first proper show in a physical venue since before the pandemic. Gnawa Nova is fronted by guimbri wizard from Agadir, Samir Langus, and drummer Daniel Freedman, joined by Jason Lindner on keys, David Lizmi on electric bass, Gustavo Di Dalva and Nizar Dahmani on percussion with Arta Jekabsone and Carolina Mama backing up vocals.
Shortly after 7, Linder headed to the stage and set the mood with some spacey synth parts. The sound of qraqeb, large castanets used in Gnawa music, started up backstage. Langus led the parade of musicians to the stage, beating a large bass drum slung over his shoulder. The hypnotic rhythms of the qraqeb and drums shifted the atmosphere in the room. I had the sense that something sacred was about to happen - live music. Langus played a few low, resonating notes on his guimbri and the band kicked off the set.
Traditionally, Gnawa music is played by the Gnawa people, descendants of slaves in Morocco and Algeria. Over the past 60 years or so the music has spread to the rest of the Moroccan community. Healing rituals called lilas are guided by a Maâlem (master musician) who plays a three stringed lute called a guimbri. Several percussionists play qraqeb and respond to the Maâlem's call and response chants. Lilas may last several hours and people in need of spiritual healing can clap and dance to long jams designed to allow a trance or hypnotic state.
Over the course of an hour and a half the band played a number of long, repeating melodies and created different textures by weaving instruments in and out or by varying tempos. During vamps the band would improvise by listening and responding to each other. Langus seemed calm and relaxed as he sung lead and beat out the song's form on his guimbri. Freedman's solid playing added a soulful groove. Linder punctuated sections with stabs on the rhodes or synths. Di Dalva and Dahmani, on djembe and doumbek respectively, added both West and North African flavors. Lizmi's electric bass supported Langus's guimbri and gave the groove a more western low-end feel. The backup singers echoed Langus's vocal refrains. Several musicians shared qraqeb duties, their polyrhythms creating a shaky-sounding but steady pulse. At times Langus or Freedman signaled to the rest of the band to pick up the tempo, which the audience gladly clapped along to, and the band brought the tune to an intense climax.
The band's set was food-for-the-soul: a satisfying fusion of traditional Gnawa music, African rhythms and Western influences. The long jams allowed me to focus on the groove and vibe the band created. The audience itself was part of the performance, our claps spurring the band forward. As I looked out across the room, I saw a lot of smiles, dancing and clapping; it was clear to me that we all needed the healing power of live music.