Reading Roars!

WOMAD returned to Reading for another once-a-year blitz of extraordinary song, dance and art from far-flung places. I was there, for one day only, to witness its magic. And what magic. The most spectacular drummer in the world, the most incredible voice in the world, throat singers from Siberia and a booty-shaking temptress from Cape Verde were just some of the gems on display. Add to that some tasty Bath Ales, well, ale, gorgeous lasses and the occasional ray of sunshine and the result was a real treat. Read my review of this awesome Festival in full, look at the images and watch some video. Here. Now.

WOMAD (World of Music, Arts and Dance), conceived by Peter Gabriel, was introduced to the world in 1982. Reading has hosted it for 16 years; this year’s was my third. The 2005 event featured over 70 artists from 30 countries. They performed on seven stages, including the magnificent Siam Tent (pictured left).

I settled again on another Saturday visit, paying GB£ 41.50 with a Your Reading Passport. I had actually obtained this on the same day from Central Library.

Required were

My picture was taken – snap! – and my laminated card was produced in seconds. Fantastic.

I didn’t like the picture but, hell, I wasn’t complaining. Sliding the shiny card sensuously through my fingers, I gleefully knew that a day ticket without it would cost the Festival visitor some GB£ 55. It was the price Steve, a friend accompanying me on this culture quest, had to pay. Ha! Well, now he knows better!

Crossing the border into WOMADland, we found ourselves on a busy global high street. One shop caught our attention in particular. Like some of the other trading stalls on the Festival site, this one sold drums. Big drums, small drums, ceramic drums etc. (it was, I guess you could say, a very a drumatic scene). However, this shop also offered many other different types of instrument, including handcarved recorders, wind instruments looking a little like spuds – and sitars. Steve, who is passionate about Indian music, picked one up and metamorphosed into Ravi Shankar. Ok, maybe he didn’t, but he looked pretty comfortable twanging this oil tanker of an instrument.

Outside, blinking at the flurry of colour around me, I was impressed to see such a great variety of shiny, happy people, curiously picking up instruments, talking, mingling. The festivalgoers seemed generally older, more experienced than, say, the Reading Festival crowd. But there were many children too. Click here to watch a video of people dancing to drums [7.7Mb]
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It was great to see kids experimenting on a drum or xylophone. Banging sticks together peacefully and not reenacting some Shaolin movie scene (ah, memories). There was a true sense of harmony in the air, musically and spiritually. For a second I thought: could I live here? Maybe up sticks and live in this global community? I could fish for perch in the Thames, like Leo in The Beach, hang out with a pretty French girl…

Our first band was Adel Salameh Trio, performing on the BBC Radio 3 Village Stage (see picture below). Adel, a Palestinian, was a master of the oud, a lute from the eastern Mediterranean. Naziha Azzouz, an Algerian, sang. It was all very folksy..very sweet.

Not quite so sweet was Billy Cobham, regarded as the fastest drummer in the world. Billy was introduced as a “legend” at the Siam Tent. Steve knew all about this ambidextrous genius; to me he was just another Festival name. Then Billy’s Culture Mix band began to play. Oh-my-gosh. The timing, the synchronisation…perfect.

The centrepiece, of course, was drumming deity Billy himself (pictured left). Big, bulky Billy’s right arm periodically flung out like a chameleon’s tongue, lashing the cymbal as he worked on a complex routine. It was a blur attached to a Quarterback-like torso. See some of what I saw of the band by clicking here to watch a minute-long video [4.5Mb].

Keen to know more about Billy Cobham? He has his own blog! Click here to visit his site.

BBC presenter Charlie Gillet introduced Lura on the BBC Radio 3 Village Stage. Playing also for BBC Radio 3 and World Service listeners, Cape Verdean goddess Lura oozed appeal and charisma. And I loved it when she wiggled her bum for the crowd. It was very sexy. And the radio listeners missed out big time.

At this point, I should mention the Festival food. There were many stalls offering international snacks: Japanese, Thai, Flipino, Malaysian, Chinese, Mexican…you get the picture. The variety looked good, the prices – around the GB£ 5 mark – did not.

Over the course of the afternoon, I had two dishes. The first was Malaysian Laksa (GB£ 4.50). It was a fairly spicy soup sprinkled with cinnamon. The girl serving was friendly enough. The product, however, was pretty dire. The soup contained chunks of vegetables with tofu that were cold and tasteless. I’ve had the real deal in Malaysia – and this wasn’t it. Not-even-close. And for just under a fiver, I expected something better.

The second dish I had was tempura with prawns. Again £GB 4.50 and, again, pretty rubbish. I drowned the battered stuff in soy sauce. I wanted to pile on the chilli sauce, but the stall had run out.

So, a lesson. Next time I go to WOMAD, I decided, I will go back to basics and opt for burgers instead. You really can’t go wrong with a burger. It’s just a slab of meat.

It was 10.30pm and time for Youssou n’Dour and ensemble, Super Etoile de Dakar (“Superstar of Dakar”), on the main stage. This guy, born in Dakar, Senegal, has the best voice of any male vocalist on the planet, in my opinion. How to describe it? His voice is strong, powerful and completely absorbing. It pervades every pore in your skin. His voice is like the biblical Holy Spirit and when his first note fills the air, you cannot help but listen. Ok, I didn’t understand what he was singing most of the time (Youssou explained to us at one point – in English, I should add – that there are 12 languages in Senegal), but it sounded damn good. I would even say that when I die and (I’m hoping here) go to Heaven, I’d expect God to sound like Youssou. When he left the stage, Jessie, a cute girl standing alongside me, wept.

Find out more about this colossus from Africa by clicking here.

Post-Youssou, it was time to take a breather – so it was back to the Siam Tent. The blue hue inside had a calming effect on me (or maybe it was something in the air that did it). The patterns projected on to the tent ceiling made the tent look organic, like a living, breathing alien. But the really alien presence came from the throaty sounds coming from the stage. The five members of Tuvan group Huun-Huur-Tu sitting serenely like Chinese emperors produced some remarkable vocal sounds from deep within the throat. It was a bizarre technique known as “throat singing” that produced clean and melodic, rather than raspy, sounds. Overall, quite a mystical effect.

WOMAD was over..or was it? There was something missing. Yup, a good dose of pounding electronica to end the night. Club WOMAD was held inside the Rivermead sports centre. The sound (a very clean sound) and light effects were of the highest quality. The sophisticated setup pumped out awesome dance/electronica music with an ethnic theme. It was a far cry from the moronic pap fed to the masses in Reading’s town centre bars.

The night was over. My WOMAD was over. Though I walked maurers zayiflama hapi Zayiflama haplarihome somewhat blissed I was saddened to see idiotic lagered-up chavs arguing with the police on Friar Street (where else?). It was the real world, alas.

Roll on WOMAD 2006!

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 31st, 2005 at 1:32 am and is filed under Culture. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.