Introduction

DuOud & Abdulatif Yagoub
Sakat
Label Bleu

After two years on a stupendously successful world tour that exceeded all their expectations, making a second album just seemed like the natural thing to do for duo Mehdi Haddab and Smadj of DuOud. Their first opus, Wild Serenade laid the foundation for this fruitful collaboration between these two neighbors who play the same instrument, one acoustic, the other, electric with seamless complementarity. Their styles are reflected in the rest of their work: Mehdi Haddab tends towards the exploration of musical technique and Smadj who loves to tinker with sound, is in fact, a sound engineer.
So, how to go about it? The approach to a second album is always complicated. Something more radical was called for and serendipity did the rest. As part of an exchange program organized by AFAA, they were sent to Yemen in February of 2004. At that time, Sanaa was the cultural capital of the Arab world and the musicians discovered a fascinating if schizophrenic country. Located on the southeastern part of the Arabic peninsula, Yemen is the only country that has no oil. Consequently, it is the poor relation among its neighbors, and had a somewhat steamy reputation. The Aden of Rimbaud and Paul Nizan that inflamed many an imagination was brought up short by the cultural reforms of the Salafis in the 1980s which prohibited music, amongst other things. Mehdi and Smadj encountered the adventure inherent in navigating their way through a society where the social codes of fundamentalist Islam do not always correspond with the realities of everyday life. Sakat means “silence,” seemed appropriate for this ultra-traditional world where music was forbidden and love hidden.

Once they arrived in Sanaa, Mehdi and Smadj were introduced to renowned musicians: Abdulatif Yagoub, a singer and oud player, and Ahmed Taher, who plays the mismar, a wind instrument with a double reech. They are each representative of the local talent: the discreet and erudite Abdulatif Yagoub studied in Egypt and plays in national orchestras. His vast knowledge of the folk repertoire made him one of the principal participants in the project. Ahmed Taher, a local celebrity – and apparently a virtual double for Donald Sutherland, according to reports! – has the local humor down and his reputation has been cemented with over fifty “cassettes.” The first discovery was the instruments. Our two “Sinbads” never leave home without their ouds, which are like extensions of themselves. They didn’t think that their beloved instruments held any more secrets for them but, to their surprise, they were confronted by a totally new technique, unique to this corner of the Arab world. Here the instrument is intrinsically fused with the vocal, setting the rhythm and sustaining it. The mismar on the other hand, is a small instrument, related to an oboe, or a bombarde. In order to play it, a musician must practice a technique of sustained blowing where the puffed out cheeks, filled with quat, create a sort of air pocket. This street instrument often accompanies dancing, and has a sound that’s impossible to ignore, with a repertoire that borders on jazz improv. Ever since its introduction, it has been a sensation with the public, which has been known to enter a trance state during concerts.
Delighted with their encounter with the two musicians and their percussionists, Mehdi and Smadj returned to record a traditional repertoire with them. A truly off the beaten track experience, the recording was pulled off in improbable conditions, with ingeniously, highly improvised “studios.” Back in Paris, the two shared the task of sorting out selected pieces in post-production—there were no personal compositions in this album—according to their melodic or rhythmic affinities. Initially adapting an esoteric approach, DuOud wended their way through a veritable Ali Baba’s cavern where subtle refinements define this popular music.
Each time they listened to the music, they uncovered other hidden treasures. Smadj and Mehdi spent several hours listening and three trips back to decipher and interpret the soul of this deceptively simple music. More long hours were spent absorbing their discoveries and adapting them to their style. Far from being a foray into ethnic musicology, their objective was to modernize a repertoire that, in contrast to many other Arabic musical styles, has not been infected with cheesy electro remixing. DuOud has used their status as pioneers in this field with brio, successfully playing off the wild riffs of the mizmar with the creative lethargy that comes over the musicians as they sit down at one in the afternoon to “chew the quat,” lending an almost reggae-like groove to the Yemenite melodies. Mehdi and Smadj have artfully identified the “gimmicks” in this music, accenting a particular technique on the oud, revealing its hidden grooves, and the haunting refrains with a “pop” potential…or not, sometimes choosing to make a musical detour, always with respect, modifying a harmony here and an arrangement there. Such is the case with Illhdah al-Aakerh, where Eric Truffaz contributes. This fastidious musician, a connoisseur of Arabic music whose silences are eloquent in a jazz world often full of chatter, lends the light of his trumpet to one of the darkest pieces on the album.