Algeria: As Raï Goes Global, Algerian Rap Attests to the Harsh Realities at Home
Over the last decade, as raï evolved from a homegrown art form into a ubiquitous brand of world music - if not another style of pop - Algerian rap has been moving in the opposite direction: from global to local.
Algerian youth have been experimenting with rap for more than a decade, busting rhymes in the clubs of Oran and taping songs in makeshift studios in Algiers. Yet the same American and European listeners who turned raï singers like Khaled and Cheb Mami into global superstars are quick to dismiss Algerian rap—if they even know it exists. To its critics, Algerian rap is merely a symptom of American cultural imperialism. It's seen as an emblem of the MTV generation, a product of McWorld, a symbol of lost youth who deny their local heritage and identity. But many Algerians argue, compellingly, that rap now has much more to say than the well-marketed global raï pioneered by Algerian émigrés now living in Paris.
"There's just copycats left in raï these days," H Rime, a member of the rap group MCLP, told the French newspaper Libération. Algerian rappers, meanwhile, denounce both sides of the ongoing strife between Islamist rebels and the authoritarian regime, which has claimed more than 100,000 lives since 1992. "I must speak the truth and give voice to those who were abused," says a song by the rappers Intik, whose sardonic name means "all's well" in Algerian slang. "I speak of children who were burned, and of my sisters who were raped."
Over the last decade, as raï evolved from a homegrown art form into a ubiquitous brand of world music—if not another style of pop—Algerian rap has been moving in the opposite direction: from global to local. The social consciousness and robust lyricism associated with American rappers like Public Enemy and N.W.A. took root in the volatile streets of Oran and Algiers, two port cities on the Mediterranean, and flourished under the Algerian sun, where the local Arabic dialect bears Spanish, French, and Berber shadings. Algerian rap has since become the voice of a new generation, expressing through words what a bloody, failed uprising in April 2001 sought to achieve through force.
Algerian rappers and raï singers may share the spotlight at Strictly Mundial 2003, a major festival and trade show for the many sounds that marketers lump together as "world music." The gathering-which runs February 26 through March 1 in Marseille, France—emerged as an alternative to the Worldwide Music Expo (WOMEX), which tends to emphasize profits more than culture. Now in its third year, Strictly Mundial is expected to draw hundreds of recording artists, agents, distributors, presenters, and fans from around the globe. This time special attention will be given to Algerian music.
Like rap, raï (which means 'opinion' or 'view' in Arabic) has also served as a form of protest music. It derives from Bedouin folk songs and from love poems sung by women in Western Algeria in the 1930s, says Marc Schade-Poulsen, the author of Men and Popular Music in Algeria: The Social Significance of Raï. In subsequent decades men played an increasing role, and raï began to incorporate Western instruments, sounds, and technology—resulting in a fusion of propulsive rhythms, colorful vocals, and trenchant lyrics.
Modern raï emerged in the mid-Seventies, a time when political disillusionment was setting in. Algeria had finally won independence from France in 1962, but the National Liberation Front (FLN) and its military backers have kept a stronghold on power ever since. For a while, raï provided an avenue for dissent. Its lyrics—which spoke of lovers and libertines shedding the age-old social strictures—were increasingly understood to imply support for political change as well. At the same time, raï singers began to project a more youthful image. By tradition they were called cheikh or cheikha ('leader'), but more and more they began referring to themselves as cheb or cheba ('kid').
New technologies also fueled raï's growth, as vinyl records gave way to cassettes and production costs fell. Ironically, though, commercial success turned many singers into marionettes. Producers began calling the artistic shots, determining which musicians, songs, and sounds to promote. They also began paying singers a single recording fee and, in exchange, acquiring all rights to the product. Of course, the raï musicians had never really had artistic independence. Both at weddings and in cabarets, they sang at the command of the master of ceremony, who usually deferred to the crowd's musical taste. In the studio, they played what the producers ordered.
President Chadli Bendjedid, who held power from 1979 to 1992, and his FLN cronies blamed raï for the massive uprising that left 500 civilians dead in October 1988. Most raï singers denied the allegation, including Cheb Sahraoui, who said there was no connection between raï and the October rebellion. Yet raï's reputation as protest music stuck because the demonstrators adopted one song—Khaled's "El Harba Wayn" ("To Flee, But Where?")—as their anthem:
Where has youth gone?
Where are the brave ones?
The rich gorge themselves
The poor work themselves to death
The Islamic charlatans show their true face...
You can always cry or complain
Or escape … but where?
The uprising led to the first free elections in Algeria, but when the Islamic Salvation Party (FIS) emerged as the likely winner, military officials stepped in and deposed Bendjedid, voided the balloting, and outlawed the FIS. Algeria has been beset with internal conflict ever since, and a six-year-old peace agreement between Islamist rebels, government security forces, and paramilitary militias has done little to stem the violence. One victim of the ongoing strife has been local raï. The assassination of the singer Cheb Hasni in 1994 and the producer Rachid Baba-Ahmed in 1995 led to a decline in new recordings, and many raï singers immigrated to places like Paris and Marseilles.
In France the raï stars are heavily dependent on the big record companies, and much of their music has come to sound like an arbitrary collage. Cheb Mami's newest CD, Dellali, offers something for every musical taste. It was produced in Paris, New York, and London with Sting, Ziggy Marley, and Nitin Sawhney as guest artists. Its success owes more to Cheb Mami's soulful voice than to any coherent sound or artistic vision. When asked how his next album will sound, Faudel, the first raï star born in France, ruefully replies: "Ask my producer."
Today the remaining raï musicians in Oran and Algiers compete with more than 100 rap groups. Among them are MBS, Hamma Boys, SOS, and female groups like MLG (Moonlight Girls) and the Messengers. Inspired by satellite TV, the rappers emulate images of urban America and the Arab underclass in France, illustrating once again that rap has become a global form of culture. The photos on their cassettes often show them wearing headbands, NBA tee-shirts, and Nike caps and looking warily out at the world—without the winning smiles that draw listeners to the raï singers.
Ourrad Rabah of MBS traces the ascendance of rap back to a series of afternoon parties held in Algiers in the early 1990s. "We listened to hip hop from the West on ghetto-blasters and we imitated it," he recalls. "But we met resistance. Rap was too Western, too political." Still, he and his crew felt they were on to something. Then, in May 1993, an assassin shot the acclaimed Algerian author Tahar Djaout twice in the head. Shortly before his death, Djaout had written this prescient verse: "Silence is death / And you, if you speak, you die / If you are silent you die. So, speak and die." Rabah and some fellow rappers responded by forming MBS, short for Le Micro Brise le Silence ("the mike breaks the silence"), and printing Djaout's credo on their cassettes.
Algerian rap remains—for better and for worse—a low-budget art form. Most rappers write their own lyrics and music. They save or borrow money, rent their own studios, and produce their own music. "It costs much more to produce our cassettes than local raï," says Rabah. "We record a piece every day or two, but raï singers record a whole album in an hour. Once we've finished a few pieces, we try to make them palatable to a publisher or producer. But hardly anyone wants to have anything to do with rap. It's too explosive. One producer wanted to promote Algerian rap, and today he is dead."
Even so, rap is reshaping Algeria's cultural landscape. It gives the nation's frustrated (and mostly unemployed) youth a way to voice their irritation with the unending strife, economic crisis, government corruption, and religious intolerance. Threats from military officials and Muslim fundamentalists do not seem to intimidate them. In contrast to the raï singers, most of whom shrank from the opportunity to be protest singers in 1988, Algerian rappers view their work as the musical counterpart to recent civic unrest, including the youth uprising in 2001. Groups like Intik and MBS speak unequivocally. "We throw silence into a burial shroud," goes a rap by MBS. "Rap is the weapon I use to cleanse my rage. What happens to us is no matter, even if I land before the judge. I am alive, and I want to represent my country."
Ironically, some Algerian rappers may soon go the way of Khaled and Cheb Mami and lose touch with the grim realities back home. Intik, for instance, signed with Sony International and resettled in Marseilles. For now, MBS remains in Algeria. "I want to devote myself to the many Algerian rappers and build them a recording studio," says Rabah, ever hopeful. "If the political situation ever improves, the world will see how many unknown sides the great music landscape of Algeria still has to offer."•
We Want More Outta Algiers
Dear Editors,
As a former Arab music producer and someone who has been following the Algerian youth scene since the late 1980's, I very much appreciated reading Thomas Burkhalter's article on Algerian Rap "Straight Outta Algiers." He hit the major issues right on the head and really understands the importance of this music inside and outside of Algeria. He is right that the rap movement expresses in words what youth failed to accomplish inApril 2001.
But as I am sure he knows, but did not mention, it goes back much further to October 1988. In facat, the group Intik says it was directly inspired by those events, and all of the groups say that they were inspired by Octoer 1988 much more than April 2001, which happened long after most of these groups made their mark with releases in 1999 and 2000. In other words, theparties in the early 90's that the author speaks of were inspired by the events and aftermath of October 1988 and June 1991 and the 1992 break out of war.
Second, its not just confined to Algiers and Oran. The bestselling group in Algeria, with sales in the hundreds of thousands according to two websites I consulted is Double Kanon from Annaba, and there are many other groups from other regions of Algeria. That said, the "scene" is indeed mostly in those two cities.
Third, rai music is based on lots more sources than what he cites, particularly Moroccan wedding songs and other traditional music that is not very "Bedouin", whatever that means. In other words, "Bedoui" is just one musical style of a long list that influence rai and does not really refer to "Bedouin" (of the desert) music in general.
Fourth, while Bendjedid may have blamed rai for October 1988 in one of his weaker moments, the government later tried to promote rai as a weapon against the Islamists, which probably has something to do with the quasi- demise of rai among the youngest of the Algerian music public and the rise of rap. Rappers in some senses share the rage of those that went into the maquis to fight the government; they do express it differently and seek different alternatives, but share the desire along with all those youths in rebellion, Islamist or Berber (Amazighi) or whatever which is ousting the current regime of the generals.
Fifth, the paramilitary groups were not really involved in the peace deal; in fact, many resented it. In fact, this non-participation has something to do with the ongoing violence some of which has something to do with "score-settling" in bloody ways independent of the official military.
Sixth, regarding inspiration, I would just underscore that the French rap scene has been very strong for about a decade, with incredible rappers like MC Solar and others that I am sure your author knows about, so to say that it is satellite TV and American images that inspire the rappers diminishes the influences from France and from dozens more groups than just any kind of "Arab underclass." In other words, this is not mostly about New York---->Algiers, but has a lot to do with what goes on in the french music scence and french society, and europe in general, and not necessarily on satellite TV but in clubs, at parties, everywhere. It is rich and complextand not about simple copycatting of American rap.
Anyway, these are minor details, really just suggestions. The piece was really excellent and I was very happy to find it on-line.
Bill Lawrence
North African History, Politics, and Culture
(and former music producer)
Tufts University
