The Wonderful World Of Womad

When Genesis split up, Peter Gabriel founded this wonderful festival, which is obviously cooler than becoming a Tory boy power-balladeer like Phil Collins. Past the entrance to the Womad arena, at the back of the open air stage, there is quite a dust bowl. Squint (which you are forced to, from the dirt in your eyes, blown up from the wind/ bass) and it could be the Sahara. Saturday hears that bass coming from Emmanuel Jal's DJ. Jal is a former child soldier from Sudan, who makes 50 Cent's street credentials seem lame. Hip Hop is truly a global phenomena and Emmanuel Jal's lyrical ability puts most Western rappers to shame... "Our love is stronger than our hunger". Jal also has more positivity than most Western rappers... "This song's dedicated to to all our mothers... Mammma". It's like the polar (or equatorial) opposite of Plan B's 'Mama (loves a crackhead)'

A favourite of John Peel, Kanda Bongo Man's gruff voice is the perfect counter-point to the sweet, chiming sound from the guitars. True to form, this upbeat sunshine music staves off the predicted rain. With the lack of rain, it's safe to stay uncovered for Ska Cubano, who are like Desmond Dekker covering Buena Vista Social Club. In heaven, obviously. This is the type of music The Ordinary Boys try to make, but are shown up as well ordinary by the skaking rude bwoys of Ska Cubano.      

Femi Kuti has come out of the shadows of his father, Fela's fame to headline Womad in his own right. Whereas Femi's brother, Seun seems happy to keep his act as a Fela Kuti heritage show, Femi Kuti is forging his own path. The distinctive Kuti trombones remain (and why not?), but Femi's trumpet is more be-bop than Afrobeat and the drummer lays down some deliberately off-key beats. The whole thing is never less than danceable, though. Near the end of the show, Femi gets the crowd ready for some back at the tent 'dancing' with 'Beng beng beng'... "She said squeeze me. Don't come too quick... Beng beng beng".  

Sunday has Djelimady Tounkara leading a trio of acoustic guitarists, whose joyous notes ring through the Siam tent. It's 'desert blues', apparently, but that's a misleading term, because this sounds like Tounkara's late, great countryman Ali Farka Toure on E. Times three. Added to this is a man banging a wooden dome, booming out a noise deeper than most indie bands bass guitar. It would be great if, say Carlos D of Interpol swapped his instrument for this. Also, D's tired military fatigues are boring compared to the colourful robes on the Djelimady Tounkara band. Pascals are also dressed extravagently. They use their main stage slot to play quaint, Lassie theme tune type music, mixing in some Oopah loompah nonsense every now and then. It's bad and not baaad meaning good, maaan.

There's a line in Laura Veirs 'Secret Someones' that goes "Tell me, did you make it to the show? What did you make of the drummers hair?". Yes Laura, good show. The drummers hair and all round appearance was very Gennaro Gattuso. Like the World Cup winning midfield hard-man, Veirs drummer is comfortable in his masculinity, enough so to provide the back-beat for this indie fem-pop. Like the weather, the music is breezy, but Veirs poetic lyrics are ocean-deep at times... "There's a shadow on the ocean floor, there's a shadow between us".

Konono No1 blast out an hour-plus long wall of sound, with nothing as egoist as pauses for solo's, or even crowd clapping. The instruments don't sound tuned properly and it also sounds like someone is constantly tuning the vocals in and out. This just adds to the dreamlike, hypnotic charm of the musicians awesome collective effort.

The screaming trumpets are a particular highlight of Spanish Harlem Orchestra. They're a classy act, but at times it sounds as if they're going to burst into Lou Bega's 'Mambo No 5'. That would've been appropriate for todays relatively lady-loaded line-up. A little bit of Laura, a little bit of Angelique and a little bit of Sharon. Sharon Jones lets her Dap Kings hype the crowd for a couple of numbers, before coming to the stage. The Dap Kings play some tight funk, before Sharon Jones spoils the party. Her voice is good enough, but the songs aren't. More annoying are the arrogant between song comments: "This reminds me of Tina Turner" and "I'm from the same town as James Brown; this is in my blood". It's like she thinks that invoking their names will make their charms rub off on her. That doesn't happen.

Angelique Kidjo has a powerful voice that is irresistable when in combination with poetic words. One song is about a Somalian woman who has to scrape birds off the road side (To eat, presumably. It's unlikely she works for the council)... "Born into a world she did not choose/ It's painful like a new pair of shoes". Kidjo's band slide into the wide variety of rhythms on display as easily as, not new pairs of shoes, but comfortably worn-in slippers. Closing the main stage at Womad, Angelique is a real treat.