The first time I came across the Algerian singer Souad Massi was via the blog of the other Cuban in London, Ivan Darias. Ivan is a journalist, currently working on a beautiful project that is directly linked to the Cuban presence in the UK. He also hosted a radio programme back in our homeland and apparently, for I never heard it, unfortunately, he used to play very unusual music. The post where he mentioned this North African performer name-checked other artists like Márta Sebestyén, Orquesta Baobab and Cesaria Évora.
After reading that article I set off to dig out as much information as I could about Souad. And I was rewarded for my efforts.
Massi's voice is like the rich, sweet aroma of ripe fruit that autumn brings: plums and figs on the ground, crimson and russet apples, and the opulent, almost decadent, perfume of fat pears. Her timbre is clear but not show-offy. She doesn't try to hit high notes like some of those R'n'B divas whose names had better remain in secret. The effect her voice has on me can only be compared to the same sensation butterflies probably have when blackberries ripen and turn black around this time of year, their warm fruit bursting, exuding perfume attracting these lepidopterans to gorge at the feast. All the songs I have heard so far by her have that heady, rich and deep autumnal feeling that I so much crave to be enveloped by at this time of year.
'Raoui' is the Killer Opening Song from her debut album of the same name and in it Souad mixes various styles and instruments; from guitars to guimbris and ouds. Some of the tracks in the record are slow and mournful whereas others are more up-tempo and rocky.
As a Killer Opening Song, 'Raoui' is a beauty of a track because it eases the listener into a very magical world, that of story-telling. The singer asks Raoui, who is the narrator, to tell her a story from 'The Thousand and One Nights' that will make her forget her own story. Apparently her heart is too full of her own narrative, so she'd rather hear a tale about a sultan's son and an ogre's daughter. Although an adult, the singer would sooner have the same imagination a child has and believe the story-teller's narration in order to forget her own pain and escape from her own present. Beautiful.
Before going any further I must declare an expression of interest. I am nuts about nuts. I am very fond of prawns. And lemon rice is ever so nice. So, there you have it. If you read more any recipes in this space containing the above ingredients it is because I am very, very, very biased. Extremely biased. And I do not care one jot.
The dish below comes courtesy of Vicky Bhogal, a British Asian woman who has done a lot to raise the profile of South Asian cuisine in the UK. Her passion for cooking owes a lot to her mother, who, apparently, instilled the same type of devotion for food preparation in her daughter. Vicky's intention is to replicate many of the recipes that her mother used to make when Vicky was younger.
Cashew, prawn, brazil nut and lemon rice
This is dinner party food. It is also comfort food that is as virtuous as it is heart-warming. You just put everything in the pan together, quickly stir-fry, add water, steam and voilà, there you have it! These quantities make enough for two, so double them if you're cooking for four, or six, or eight, or the whole troop. Note to readers: I tend to cheat a little bit and add more nuts such as: hazelnuts, chestnuts, peanuts... the list goes on. Refer to the first line. I am nuts about nuts.
2 tbsp mild and light olive oil
1 tsp cumin seeds
½ onion thinly sliced
Zest from 1 lemon
250g cooked and peeled prawns
2 tomatoes, diced
1 handful fresh coriander, chopped
75g cashew nuts
60g toasted brazil nuts, chopped
1 tsp dried red chilli flakes
½ teaspoon salt
100g basmati rice, washed until the water runs clear, drained
250ml water
Heat the oil in a pan and add the cumin. When sizzling, add the onion and lemon zest and fry until translucent. Add the prawns, tomatoes, coriander, cashews, brazils, chilli and salt, and stir-fry for 30 seconds. Then add the rice and stir-fry for a further 30 seconds.
Now add the water, bring up to a boil, turn down the heat to very low, cover and steam for 15 minutes. Once cooked, graze the rice gently with a fork, to loosen the grains, and serve piping hot.
Playlist. It goes without saying that the music has to be as sizzling as the dish. These are my suggestions:
This is a typical Afro-Cuban dish that is best served as a light snack or starter. I saw this recipe originally in a bookby Natalia Bolivar Arostegui.
Serves 10-12
Ingredients:
Bread (loaf or buns)
Olive oil
Garlic (a couple of cloves)
Water (or milk)
First, take the bread and pull the dough out. Break it all up into bite size pieces and roll them all up using middlefinger, forefinger and thumb. Dab them in water (milk can also be used) and leave them on the side. Slice the garlic in thin strips (choose a nice, plump bulb) and brown them for about five minutes on the hot olive oil. Add on the dough balls and bring the heat down. Stir them well so they don't stick to the frying pan. After about 5-7 minutes, take them out, drain the remaining oil (I like leaving it on, but you might be on a diet) and serve. If you used milk, you'll realise that they are more compact and crunchier. Hmmm, tasty.
Playlist
Because this is usually served as a starter or a light snack the music that goes with it (usually dinner party background music) is not very long. Recommended listening includes:
I was recently driving back home from Potters Bar, Hertfordshire, relishing a marvellous early winter sunset when I began to ponder on the joys of night-time driving. As the car headlights helped me cruise through the Ridgeway back to Enfield, nature's twilight hour brought a myriad creatures to the full beam of my front lights, thus, thrusting me into the whirpool of this lawless, carefree and unadultared animal world. Night-time driving music divests the listener of optical detours whilst ensnaring them in a type of Wild West grip.
Night-time driving music doesn't need/have to necessarily be slow, schmaltzy, ballad-type. Many a time I've caught myself humming quite loudly to a Fela Kuti's song or a track by Los Van Van. The only requirement(s) it must meet is leave you with that eerie and unearthly feeling of being part of the unknown, especially when driving in a motorway or in a countryside road.
The first clip is a testament to the wonderful world of networking. As social fora for like-minded folks, the internet and blogs, specifically, have become an essential part of the human existence and on this particular occasion I have fellow Cuban, journalist and blogger Ivan Darías Alfonso to thank for introducing me to the music of Souad Massi, an Algerian singer who has made inroads into French culture via her haunting and beautiful voice and, if the comments on youtube.com are anything to go by, the depth of her songs. Which I cannot understand as she sings in Arabic. I have just ordered her CD, 'Deb', after listening to a few tunes in the aforementioned website and I can't wait for it to arrive on my doorstep. Thanks Ivan and Merry Christmas to you and Elena.
This band should not have worked out. And the same goes for some night wildlife when you see it through the glass of your windshield. Some of it just doesn't make sense. Ditto with this group. The Doors had a guitarist rooted in flamenco music, a drummer with a jazz background and a keyboardist and pianist whose leanings were more towards Bach than The Beatles. And then they had Jim. And it worked. Beautifully. This song weighed on me in my teens and it still does. Pure musicianship.
The Cranberries took me by surprise when I first heard this album back in the mid 90s, just like night-time driving can throw up a few surprises hither and thither, sometimes not very nice ones. The opposite happens here. O' Riordan's voice is so delicate and yet so strong . Enjoy.
I've always been a Tori Amos' enthusiast. The passion with which she attacks the piano, her lyrics and the feeling of being on the edge of the unknown, or maybe the known unknown for I get a sense of comfort in being in her music's company. Just like when I'm driving at night collecting my son from Woodcraft Folk and we are both looking forward to the weekend. A known unknown which we both know will be worthwhile. And I want to set the mood for it right from Friday night.
Well, there ain't no sunshine at night, Bill. And how many times do you say 'I know' in that tune? It doesn't matter, it's the pure feeling wafting through the track, it's the guitar-playing skills, it's the heart-rending delivery, it's just pure, soulful, unadulturated music. Like night wildlife. Like night-time driving.
I was one of the lucky ones who managed to sneak into the Karl Marx Theatre in 1994 to see Manu Chao and Mano Negra in their only visit to Havana, as far as I know. And that concert has always stayed in my mind. The relentless energy, the camaraderie, the bond and the closeness of each and every musician on stage was mind-blowing. I must admit that I don't have all the songs I upload on this blog on CDs. I do have loads of CDs, but I also upload tracks which I would like to play in the car as I drive around the streets, roads and motorways of Britain and this is one of those songs.
And that's what night-time driving is about. The magnitude of the road, the smallness of the car, the infinite power of music.
This is all for this week. Have a Merry Christmas.
