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I first heard of Rokia Traoré a month ago, when I was skipping TV channels and landed on Later with Jools Holland. I fell in love with her performance and logged onto the internet straight away to find out if she was playing London. And she was: the Barbican last night, tickets as low as a tenner!
The thing I like about her is that it's music that brings together a whole bunch of stuff: a little Blues, a little Folk; some lyrics in French, big rhythm that makes everyone stand up and dance; a Billie Holiday cover; a lot of emotion that you can feel even if you don't understand a word. A type of Funk. And a lot of happiness.
Her performance at the Barbican could have blown the place up. It's only too bad that she didn't perform in a venue where everyone had to stand - and couldn't get away from dancing. That's what her music is meant for. If it were a gig in Brasil, everyone would be pouring out of the gig with sweat dripping down their bodies. But this is England... though, to be fair, she managed to get everyone up by the end, dancing in front of their seats.
Many of you may not know this, but although my mom is Brasilian and my dad is English, I was born in South Africa. I don't have family there, I left when I was quite young - to be raised in Brasil - but I still have that connection to Africa, no matter how small. It's in my childhood photos and my first memories. I feel drawn to African culture - in all its variety and distinctiveness - because this is what surrounded me: my parents' records, paintings and books on the Zulu; the stories I was told of my parents' life there when we left for Brasil (escaped South Africa's government, actually - my mom didn't want my brothers and I serving its compulsory military). It's a part of me I haven't really explored, but I've always known it's there.
I know that Mali is as different from South Africa as Brasil is to Peru, but there are certain things that countries share when they are on the same continent. A spirit? An imaginary closeness? History? I like it, whatever it is. Last night, I reflected a lot on my own birth and life, and the birth and life of others...
The thing I like about her is that it's music that brings together a whole bunch of stuff: a little Blues, a little Folk; some lyrics in French, big rhythm that makes everyone stand up and dance; a Billie Holiday cover; a lot of emotion that you can feel even if you don't understand a word. A type of Funk. And a lot of happiness.
Her performance at the Barbican could have blown the place up. It's only too bad that she didn't perform in a venue where everyone had to stand - and couldn't get away from dancing. That's what her music is meant for. If it were a gig in Brasil, everyone would be pouring out of the gig with sweat dripping down their bodies. But this is England... though, to be fair, she managed to get everyone up by the end, dancing in front of their seats.
Many of you may not know this, but although my mom is Brasilian and my dad is English, I was born in South Africa. I don't have family there, I left when I was quite young - to be raised in Brasil - but I still have that connection to Africa, no matter how small. It's in my childhood photos and my first memories. I feel drawn to African culture - in all its variety and distinctiveness - because this is what surrounded me: my parents' records, paintings and books on the Zulu; the stories I was told of my parents' life there when we left for Brasil (escaped South Africa's government, actually - my mom didn't want my brothers and I serving its compulsory military). It's a part of me I haven't really explored, but I've always known it's there.
I know that Mali is as different from South Africa as Brasil is to Peru, but there are certain things that countries share when they are on the same continent. A spirit? An imaginary closeness? History? I like it, whatever it is. Last night, I reflected a lot on my own birth and life, and the birth and life of others...
