Making It Their Own Kyrgyz Pop Culture

By Kelly Raftery

When I lived in the former Soviet Union a lifetime ago, I was always stressing to people that the Collapse offered a unique opportunity for these newly independent countries to forge their own path, to create something that was not a carbon-copy of the West, nor Russia, nor simply repeating what they had known under the old regime, but something truly different for each country, a blend of heritage and innovation, modernity and tradition. So now, many years later, I cannot help but be completely thrilled to see modern Kyrgyz pop culture and how it has taken what they found useful from the rest of the world and combined it with their own unique culture that has begun to take its place on the world stage. I take great pleasure in introducing you to a few artists that are not household names in the West, but represent a small glimpse of Kyrgyzstan’s rich and thriving pop culture scene.

Full disclosure ahead – my kid is a dancer. So, when not in the studio, he and I spend a great deal of time watching dance of all kinds on YouTube. At some point in the last year or two, we stumbled upon an extremely talented dancer from Kyrgyzstan, Atai Omurzakov. Beyond the talent is ambition, guts and a very compelling life story, as he was raised by a single mother in rural Karakol, a tough road for any young Kyrgyz man. A couple of years ago, Atai set his sights West and began competing in talent shows, making it to finals of Ukraine’s Got Talent and winning Czecho-Slovakia's Got Talent. Atai dances in a style called “electric boogie” and has taken his new-found fame and fortune home, where he organizes an international dance festival called “I am a Dancer.”  I am attaching two videos below – one is of Atai as a Wall-e-esque robot, the performance that won first place. The second clip features modern Kyrgyz music and the incorporation of traditional nomadic themes. If you are still hungry for more after these two videos, look for him on YouTube, or for a real treat search for Atai’s younger students, who perform under the group name “Tumar.” 

In the world of music, there are two artists who in my mind stand out from the rest – Tata Ulan and Kanykei. The former melds Kyrgyz traditional oral story telling structure with commentary on modern day political and societal issues. Tata Ulan’s deeply conservative views are reflected in his music and while I do not agree with his views, I do find some of his music and videos entertaining and recognize that he has created a singular form of Kyrgyz music. While some would categorize Tata Ulan’s music as rap, I hear a considerable Kyrgyz influence on the cadences and rhythms. The first of the two videos posted below is called “Hello Kyrgyzstan” and is sort of an inside joke, representing regional variations personified. It is sort of like a video that would show American cowboys, Bostonian blue bloods, Chicago cops, and California surfers along with their regional accents. In the second video, Tata Ulan lists all that he feels is wrong with modern Kyrgyz society. The first video is more typically western in style, whereas the second shows more traditional themes and very much mimics the lyrical patterns of the Kyrgyz oral history, Manas.

Kanykei is more of what I would consider a pop star by Western standards and frankly, one that I had somewhat dismissed and overlooked by categorizing her as such. I discovered Kanykei when she provided the theme song for a controversial Kyrgyz movie called “Empty House.”  I saw her video and was impressed with the production values and her singing to some degree, but did not think much more about her. Soon, I saw that she had provided a song for another recent film, “Hello New York” which tells an immigrant’s tale from the Kyrgyz perspective and I started to notice her a bit more. Kaykei has been making appearances internationally, which also caught my eye.  I would like to share with you the two videos that were my introduction to her:

 

Yes, these are pretty typical videos, albeit ones in a foreign language. Nothing particularly outstanding, I figured, kind of like a Kyrgyz Céline Dion. Then, I caught this video of Kanykei performing acapella at an event in Dubai and it literally took my breath away. The first time I heard the range of the vocals, pleasurable chills ran through my body, leaving goose bumps. This is a traditional Kyrgyz song (as you can tell from the crowd joining in) sung in a spectacular way. 

  

Pop culture in this area of the world nimbly walks the path between East and West, not unlike the Kyrgyz themselves.

Telenovelas, Sortilegio and William Levy

By Edith McClintock

I like my entertainment soapy—romance, drama, intrigue!—as does much of the world. I figure this is a good thing. It’s easier to connect with people, easier to find amusement, easier to translate between cultures. Certainly easier to survive three months living with a Georgian family, especially when 90 percent of the time we had no common language beyond charades.

And I did survive, thanks largely to telenovelas: campy, silly and melodramatic. Where the women wear more make-up than a South Beach drag queen on Halloween. Where a man’s jaw is always clenched, his fists ready for a fight. Where furrowed brows and tears speak louder than words, and I FEEL the pain.

Unlike their American soap opera cousins that run for years, telenovelas average around six months and play nightly on primetime, which makes them highly profitable and exportable to new and growing audiences the world over.

In Georgia, we watched telenovelas every evening on a small television above the kitchen table. True, I could barely communicate with the women gathered around the table. Nor could I understand most of the words on the television, although I’d catch snippets of random Spanish in the background thanks to atrocious dubbing.

But I could stare at the smoldering Alejandro, a man I understood without words. A man who didn’t like the restriction of shirts, or chest hair, but if he absolutely must cover his magnificent, rippling torso for a dinner party with his no-doubt-evil mama, only white linen or pink/turquoise silk would touch his perfectly bronzed skin. And, por supuesto, buttoning said shirt was never an option.

I understood Alejandro completely. No matter how many times he swept his pregnant, teary wife, Maria José, into his arms for a passionate kiss, I knew the truth. She did too, which explained her many tears. But until poor Alejandro moved out of his mother’s house (and killed his jealous stepfather, who needed to tone down his atrocious highlights) he would never find happiness.

I left Georgia before Sortilegio (Love Spell) ended, but I felt sure it had a happy ending (they always do) and Alejandro would live happily-ever-after with his true love, José.

Turns out the real plot, which I just looked up on Wikipedia, was way more convoluted than anything I dreamt-up, but still, the series ended with Alejandro happily married to his wife, Maria José. Disappointing.

As for Alejandro, the star of Sortilegio? In the real world his name is William Levy, a Cuban American from Miami, my hometown, and like his character, he too finds shirts restrictive. It is hot.

I obviously should have been watching telenovelas while I lived in Miami, where many are now filmed, although most are produced in Mexico, Venezuela, Brazil, and Colombia. My Spanish would certainly be better, and I could have bonded with my many Miami friends who watch telenovelas strictly “with their mothers.” Never on their own.

And I would have known about this massive international star from my hometown, a man who was ubiquitous when I returned to the U.S.—on Dancing with the Stars, dating J.Lo, being sued for sexual relations with a woman. Shocking.

And despite what Miami friends claim, it’s not just abuelas tuning in to telenovelas each night. They’ve long since taken over the world—in the U.S. twice as many people now watch telenovelas as soap operas, with more than half of them between the ages of 18 and 49.

And while most telenovelas have a romantic struggle as the main plot point, in more recent years they’ve introduced topical issues such as corruption, racism, and domestic violence, or social messaging such as portraying gay characters and relationships in a positive light.

So yes, I had to move to Georgia to catch-up on telenovelas (and William Levy), and it’s also true I haven’t watched any since (although I do seem to know a lot about William Levy), but I still like my entertainment soapy.

And no matter how much my brother may want to dispute this, my current favorite, Game of Thrones, is nothing more than an expensively produced telenovela with a fantasy twist. That said, I’d like Game of Thrones even more if the women took off their shirts a bit less, the men a LOT more. And they should consider adding William Levy to the cast.

Watch the opening to Sortilegio below (you must) and prepare to be amazed/alarmed when Maria José gets knocked around in the opening frame and immediately transitions to making-out/dancing with Alejandro. The music! The drama! Who needs words? Although perhaps there is still some work to be done around social messaging.

For more, visit my author website and/or personal blog, A Wandering Tale. Even better, order a copy of Monkey Love & Murder on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or the Book Depository (free shipping nearly anywhere in the world).

Joyful Noise: Pop Culture in Africa

By Jenni Gate

From some of the least hopeful places on the planet comes some of the most hopeful music. Throughout Africa, the trend in pop culture is for musicians to uplift and inspire, with folk instruments, upbeat rhythms, and lyrics.  They sing of their own transitions from desolation to optimism, or give tribute to the struggles of their compatriots.

BOMBINO Photo: By Modiba Productions (CC-BY-SA-3.0)

Last week, Bombino, one of Africa’s fastest-rising musicians, released the album Nomad to critical acclaim. The album was produced by Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys, and the result is mesmerizing. Omara Bombino Moctar is a Tuareg born in Niger in 1980 in the midst of cultural and political upheaval. The Tuareg are a nomadic ethnic group common throughout northern Africa from Burkina Faso to Mali, Niger, Algeria, and Libya. Due to their nomadic lifestyle, they have been the subject of violent suppression since the days of colonialism. With North African governments seeking to restrict their movements as population growth stresses the desert environment, the Tuareg have found themselves marginalized and repressed. This led to several uprisings and reprisals from the 1960s through the present. Bombino grew up in the midst of violence. His family was forced to flee Niger several times to neighboring Algeria and later to Libya. During his years in exile, Bombino taught himself to play the guitar, watching videos of Mark Knopfler, Jimi Hendrix and others until he mastered their styles. In 2007, the government of Niger outlawed the guitar and executed two musicians, forcing Bombino to flee once again. His sound is electrifying with a voice like butter accompanying high-energy guitar and in the process encapsulating the sounds of rebellion and optimism. His music speaks of peace and rights for the Tuaregs spread throughout the Sahara.

This video about the making of Nomad includes background about Bombino and the history of the Tuareg people: 

Watch Bombino’s performance of a simple, yet beautiful Tuareg dedication song:

Listen to sample tracks from the album Nomad and discover more about this fascinating nomadic musician here: 

http://www.allmusic.com/album/nomad-mw0002494357
 

Photo: Harry Wad, CC by SA 3.0

Africa’s most inspiring musical couple is Amadou and Mariam. Amadou Bagayoko became blind at the age of 16, and Mariam Doumbia lost her sight at age 5 due to measles. Amadou and Mariam, both from Bamako, Mali, met in 1975 at an institute for the blind. They married in 1980 and began touring, recording, and playing at festivals worldwide. A 2004 collaboration with Manu Chao, a world-famous Latin musician, to produce the album Dimanche à Bamako propelled the couple to worldwide fame. Their music blends rock and blues with traditional Mali, Middle Eastern, and Indian instruments. Their French lyrics uplift and inspire, giving hope for the downtrodden of Mali. Many of their songs are love songs, like Je Pense à Toi. Themes of friendship, happiness, and community infuse their music.

In the midst of the current conflict in Mali, the couple has joined with several other musicians to speak out against the violence. See the story about this effort at: http://www.npr.org/blogs/allsongs/2013/01/18/169730172/watch-a-supergroup-from-mali-sing-for-peace

Je Pense à Toi:

A recent video about the current political situation in Mali:

Watch and listen to their official videos and songs here: http://www.youtube.com/amadouandmariam

Baloji. Photo: by Peter Forret, CC by 2.0

An edgy R&B rapper is making a mark on the African and European music scenes with a compelling personal story of triumph over adversity. Baloji, whose name means sorcerer in Swahili, was born in 1978 in Lubumbashi, Congo to a Congolese mother and Belgian father. When he was 3, his mother sent him to live in Belgium with his father. His father lost his fortune in Congolese investments when Baloji was 7 and deserted him. Baloji grew up in a school for delinquent children run by nuns. Angry, alienated, and out of sync with mainstream Belgian culture, he ran away at age 15 and joined a rap group. The group eventually became known as Starflam. They cut an album, Survivant, in 2001 that went platinum. Due to disagreements, Baloji quit the group in 2004, turning his back on music altogether.

Out of the blue, he received a letter from his mother who had not been in contact since 1981. His mother commented in her letter that when she sent him to Belgium she had intentionally sent him to the land of Marvin Gaye. Baloji deeply considered that musical legacy contrasted with the current condition of people in war-torn Congo. He realized that his life perspective was skewed. Rather than being a victim of a cross cultural childhood, he was fortunate to have escaped the intense poverty and violence of the Congo. When they spoke by phone, his mother asked him what he’d been doing for all the years they were apart. He produced his first solo album, Hotel Impala as a way to respond with the highlights of his life. Compelled to return to Kinshasa, a city built for 500,000 people but now home to over 12 million, he began a journey of exploration and self-discovery. Music in the Congo had not changed much in 25 years. Caught up in the feverish energy of the city, Baloji turned his confused cross-cultural identity into a strength. In just six days, he recorded the album Kinshasa Succursale with Congolese bands Konono No 1 and Zaiko Langa Langa. The album reworked several songs from Hotel Impala with several new songs, all blending Congolese instruments and rhythms. Gritty music videos were filmed on the streets of Kinshasa.

Karibou Ya Bintou (meaning Welcome to Limbo) is the signature track. It tells the tale of how he evolved from an angry young man to a music sorcerer, a creative spirit fully engaged with his cultural identity. Here is the video with English subtitles [for mature audiences only]:

Mellower sounds abound in Le Jour d’Après, which harkens back to the more constrained musical days of Independence.

If you happen to be in Britain this summer, catch a train tour called the African Express. About 80 musicians, including Amadou and Mariam and Baloji, are riding a train across country to promote the best in African music. Many of these artists have compelling personal stories, coming from war-torn areas, or overcoming lives of turmoil. http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2012/aug/26/africa-express-bound-for-glory