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Photo: Tim Gruar |
Before beginning, I
want to pay tribute to the 50 souls who were brutally cut down by an act of
pure hatred on Friday afternoon in Christchurch. Our hearts reach out to their friends,
family, and community.
The events unfolded at
pace as we listened in complete shock, on the radio, driving to New
Plymouth. Immediately all the
frustrations of traffic delays caused by summer road works dissolved away and
were replaced by shock and fear. Only an
hour before, we were listening to the bright hopeful voices school students
protesting and calling for awareness to climate change on the steps of
Parliament. And that should have been
the salient theme of this year’s WOMAD festival. But it never came close.
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Photo: Tim Gruar |
This is my 7th
consecutive WOMAD, a celebrations of world music, arts, culture and above all,
diversity. This is the place where
people from everywhere come together to learn and share in the best everything
the world can offer. Normally, there is
a heightened buzz about the place. People
arrived and it was business as usual but there was an unspoken cloud hovering.
It started with the
canvas city that amasses on the racecourse adjacent to the Bowl of Brooklands,
in New Plymouth. This year the campsite
had completely sold out, with thousands of tents, camper vans and Winnebago’s
also jostling for the best position.
Usually, there are loud voices, people playing cricket, drinking wine,
flags flying and the aromas of exotic food wafting about. But, understandably, the site was subdued
with everyone checking phones and speaking in hushed tones.
WOMAD was meant to
start with the Prime Minister opening, but events down South had overtaken this. Then I heard from my Radio NZ colleagues that
Kim Hill’s Saturday Morning live cross was cancelled. Comedian Jeremy Elwood also told me that his
live cross to The Project was also cancelled.
Other media events were rescheduled.
I mention all this because this year’s WOMAD was promising to be the
largest and greatest celebration to date, with unprecedented ticket sales,
despite there being no household named headliners. Punters were investing in the reputation the
experience of past events alone.
Angelique Kidjo Photo: Tim Gruar |
The security presence
was amped up, too. Police numbers were
more obvious, with sidearms and there were security crews dressed ominously in military
black with high vis-vests. This felt
very unnatural, given their usual invisibility. WOMAD is one of the places you
can go where security is usually very low.
The biggest presence of emergency crew is St John’s Ambulance, who
usually attend to grazes, heat exhaustion and the occasional hot flush. With a predominance of families, over 65’s
and teenagers, this was not the kind of place for panic or alarm: everyone felt
safe – usually.
But, as the say, the
show must go on. Minister Andrew Little,
standing in for the Prime Minister opened the festival and calling for a
celebration of life and cultural inclusion.
Just then it didn’t feel right.
We all stood wondering what to do.
Here we were in this beautiful place about to arty hard but we were
lost, hurting, shocked, confused and maybe even feeling guilty to be here.
First up, the ‘Aphropsychadelic’
beats of South African band BCUC kicked in to gear, almost in defiance of the
day’s events elsewhere. They were
determined to get the party started. It
seemed people were a little reluctant to get funky, even those dressed up for
the night.
I caught the honey
sweet soul of Hokianga’s quiet sensation charming young fans on the Gables
stage. He was running through his usual
set, which includes the deliciously honest song Grapefruit Skies. The posse of young ladies at the front swooned and
swayed to his 5 piece band, hanging off every phrase.
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Amjad Ali Khan Photo: Tim Gruar |
Friday night is always
an open invitation to wear wild and crazy costumes, and a dedicated group
brought out their best, with illuminated dresses and capes and wild masks. However, the efforts were definitely down on
previous years.
Amjad Ali Khan is one
of the undisputed masters of the Indian classical world. Flanked by his sons Amaan Ali and Ayaan Ali
he delivered he gave us a mesmerizing and magical performance. His playing is a true master class of the
sarod, a traditional instrument that is similar to a lute but coupled with the tambala
ascends new heights. It’s a deeply nasal
sound, like chanting. I can’t put my finger on why exactly but that performance
was like a trigger release for me, unleashing the flood of pain I was feeling
for Christchurch at that moment and it drove me to tears. As I looked around, I was the only one. This was a brief moment of healing and I was
grateful for it.
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Nadia Reid Photo: Tim Gruar |
Folkie Nadia Reid took
to the Todd Energy Stage, one of the larger ones, with a full band. She stuck mainly to her greatest hits Songs
like Richard and Call The Days were more uplifting and soulful with that greater
accompaniment, less morbid than the originals.
Sona Jobarteh played a
collection of songs on the kora – a 21 stringed harp, similar to a lute, but
made from a gourd. It’s traditionally
only played by men in ‘Griot’ families, West Africa. She was taught by her brother and, we learned,
was the the first female from a Griot family to play it professionally. Her voice was soft as silk and quiet
beautiful. A calm moment, and
entrancing, too.
Back after 6 years,
London’s high energy duo, The Correspondents put on the most cathartic show of
the night. Mixing Brazilian, Old Time
Swing and Jazz with British Hip Hop rhythms, DJ/Producer Chucks threw down a
bed of massive mashup of genre bending tunes over which singer Mr Bruce
delivered his quirky vocals. Now bald headed
Mr Bruce was still as tall and lanky as he was during his last visit. He was dressed is a special skinny black
track suit with accentuated his crazy, explosive and manic dancing cartwheels,
spun and catapulted around the Todd Energy stage like it was he personal gymnasium. He appeared to me as young Peter Garrett,
especially the energy. That famous bunny
had nothing on him. They whipped through
a number of newer songs, including their new e.p. Who Knew?, all on DJ steroids
and completed on a tune that they’d played at their last visit – What Happened To Soho? That one got the biggest cheer.
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The Correspondents Photo: Tim Grar |
The other act I caught
was Finn Andrews. Still sporting his
trademark wide brimmed hat he was accompanied by a 4 piece band and backing
singers. He spent most of the set seated
at a baby grand, performing a selection from his new album, One
Piece At A Time, which dropped today.
Still employing elements of dark
Cave-esque ballad his tunes seemed eerie and poignant. A song about the birds in Hyde park waking
his to great annoyance seemed an appropriate moment of relief in his mainly
lush but somber repertoire. Love, What Can I do?, the new single was
definitely a highlight. That didn’t
stop his charm coming through, as he weaved a quiet magic on his crowd, many
who were older and probably never known his time with the Veils.
Day two at Womad began, appropriately with karakia on the TSB Bowl
Stage remember “our fallen brothers and sisters in Christchurch, our wider
whanau around Aotearoa who are hurting and to guide and protect our WOMAD
family and artists.”
Safety was definitely amped up again, in response further, with more
police and security teams. This
definitely seemed like a very surreal moment but necessary. You may ask why the event was even
continuing, and the organizers, including TAFT CEO Suzanne Porter did front up
to explain that. They said in a press
conference that all Muslim performers had been consulted, along with a host of
other artists, to check if the Festival should continue. Flanked by UK CEO Chris Smith and Emere Wana
(WOMAD’s creative director) they
explained that WOMAD a celebration of life and diversity. You cancel in the face of acts of hatred was
to let that win. As Andrew Little had
said, the day before: Let us celebrate what WOMAD stands for, for diversity,
for tolerance and for love"
Ria Hall Photo: Tim Gruar |
And so thousands today came together to do just that.
It was fitting that Ria Hall and the Nudge were first up. Hall brought her recent album and show The
Rules of Engagement, which documents early land wars conflict in The
Bay Of Plenty. Sung in Te Reo, it was the perfect response to the actions of
Friday. The message ‘Kia Kaha’ was
undeniable.
Age Pryor lead his Congress of Animals through a rather chaotic workshop
dedicated to song writing. The sung a
few tracks from their recent album, dissecting as they went, to demonstrate how
their own collaboration processes worked.
They later led the crowd in a full show on a bigger stage, which was ‘very
satisfying,” according to my campsite neighbors.
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The Black Seeds / Photo : Tim Gruar |
Local Heroes The Black Seeds returned to the Bowl Stage to perform
a solid set from their back catalog, with Turn
It Around being the standout track – not just because it’s a message of
hope but a damn fine tune, too. The bowl
was at capacity and everyone was keen to dance away in the late afternoon sun.
On the Todd Energy Stage Sharon Shannon whipped up another huge
audience with mainly mainstream Celtic tinged music. Most were covers, and a happy set for those
in the over 65 ‘Lounge’ (viewing platforms).
Shannon plays accordion sitting down, so most of the audience cajoling
duties fell to the other members of her 5 piece band. Songs blended into each
other and inspired plenty of dancing.
The final jig was a cover of Music
For A Found Harmonium, made famous by The Penguin Cafe Orchestra and very
familiar to the predominantly older revelers.
I really enjoyed the workshop taken by members of Maalem Hamid El
Kashri. This group, from Morocco,
features the playing of a guembri, which is a three stringed bass lute. Amplified, it sounds very much like a deep
throated bo- diddley. Through a translator
we learned that many of the original slave and blues songs came from Morocco,
where the East and West of Africa collide with the Arab world. In the hands of Hamid El Kasri this simple
instrument can be transformed into a very complex session of melodies and
counter harmonies as it’s picked, strummed and ‘bashed’. They also explained
that despite our preconceptions, women in their society are the inspiration to
much of their music, even as their paying ‘patrons’. And then their were their highly elaborate
traditional costumes, decorated with shells, elaborate hats and smocks. Add to that the clacking accompaniment of
large tin maracas and they were an amazing sight to behold.
Las Cafeteras Photo: Tim Gruar |
One of the most uplifting experiences of the day came from Las
Cafeteras, a USA based Mexican band who mixed up a sizzling fusion of
Afro-Latino, Hip Hop, Folk and First nation rhythms. On the banks of the Bowl, the kids usually
slide down the sides and hang from the trees but these tunes were so infectious
they’d stopped their playing and were joining their parents to party away. Their re-claimed version of La Bamba had everyone on their feet
towards the end of the hour.
I was expecting great things from La Dame Blanche from Cuba. Her father is Jesus ‘Aguaje’ Ramos, the
trombonist from recent tourists Buena Vista Social Club. Her repertoire, sung in French was mainly a
hip hop and Cumbian blend. Backed by digital tracks, a drummer and bass guitarist,
she was solid but not overly inspiring.
To the uninitiated, no doubt this was great stuff. Sadly, I’ve heard it all before and was not
so inspired.
I didn’t have great expectations for Welsh Folk outfit Jamie
Smith’s Mabon, who seemed on the surface, at least, to be another knock off
variation of Mumford and Sons. So, I was
pleasantly surprised by their crack and energy as they whipped through a number
of joyful Celtic and Welsh pub tunes.
Again, using an accordion, guitars and drums the five piece didn’t offer
anything particularly new but they did inject a much needed element of fun into
the day.
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My Baby Photo: Tim Gruar |

I think
tonight’s electrifying performance of psychedelic freakery finally delivered
that for me.
West African diva Angelique Kidjo closed the night with a full on
party set based around a mix or her older songs and her recent reinterpretation
of the Talking Head’s classic album Remain In Light. She reminded everyone that you need to
celebrate every moment, it’s no good when you are six feet under. Normally words like this are two a penny at a
festival like this but today, they really meant something. Flamboyantly moving about the stage, she took
control of the party bringing out a drummer at the end for a dance off’ with the
back stage crew and friends who were also dragged up on stage.
Sunday was an opportunity catch up on any gigs missed over the previous
two days. And to add a couple of new
ones. For me it was also a chance to
relax a little bit and soak up the atmosphere.
Since Friday the mood had changed from hurts and disillusion to hope and
love. Everyone was careful and kind. Even the weather was on our side, with
brilliant sunshine all day. I chose to check out the writers at the Kuning
stage doing various readings and talking about their books. One was veteran music journalist Nick
Bollinger, who read from his book about his days in Rick Bryant’s band Rough Justice,
recalling hilarious tales of touring dodgy pubs on $5 and two slices of
bread. He also dropped hints of a new
project exploring New Zealand’s counter culture in the 1960’s and 70’s.
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Fran Kora Photo: Tim Gruar |
I also had a chance to see Kora, who were playing just one
show. They pulled out all stops and
delivered a huge set from their first two albums. On My
Mind and Organics were two of the
tracks I saw before moving to check out the other stages. Always crowd pleasers, It’s been 10 years
since they were on the Bowl stage but everyone remembered them with affection,
boogieing hard and singing along in appreciation.
Michelle A’Court’s late night comedy routine was also a wonderful
relief, as she delivered jokes about women, the #MeToo Movement and drinking
too much wine. It all went down rather well
with this crowd.
As I’ve mentioned earlier, I’ve been to this Festival many times
but this has been the hardest one to cover.
I have mixed emotions, as do many here.
And I won’t apologies for that. WOMAD
will be criticized for continuing on.
But what was the alternative? Let hate win?
Music stimulates and feeds all that is human, so for me it was
important to be here. It was
cathartic. I don’t think I am alone in
that. There is still great love here, as
I’ve witnessed in the campsite, on the streets and among audiences cheering
and dancing, supporting the artists and celebrating their art and music. But we were living in a WOMAD bubble that will
inevitably burst at the end of Sunday night when we return to our homes, whanau
and loved ones.
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Photo: Tim Gruar |
I am thankful for this time, and also for the organizers and the
security and police who kept us safe and reassured us. And I am thankful for the artists, who gave
us messages of sympathy and hope and caring and lifted our spirits in these
dark days.
Perhaps the decision to celebrate in the face of tragedy seemed
heartless and irresponsible. Then how
would we react? As was reminded time and
again by many of the wonderful visitors from all cultures that I met over the
weekend, we can never let the hatred of a few destroy us. This does not define us - as Kiwis, as
Tangata Whenua, as Citizens of the World.
This is not and will NEVER be who were are!
If you want to help the victims’ families
consider : https://givealittle.co.nz/landingpages/support-for-christchurch/index.html
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