For many Arabic artists, culture has deep ties within their respective musical styles. It is no different for Natacha Atlas, born in Brussels, Belgium to a Sephardic Jewish father and a British mother (“Biography”). Her distinct background and diverse travels have certainly influenced her music as well as her general attitude about what music means for her, which I’ll get to later.
When she was young, Atlas felt foreign to her own Arabic heritage and moved to England with her mother. One night in a London club, she recognized Arabic music playing and suddenly became drawn to it. This revelation piqued her curiosity to delve further into her own multinational background, growing proud of the mix of European and Arabic cultures (“Biography”).
In 1991, Atlas joined the London group, Transglobal Underground, and began bringing a fusion of Arabic traditional methods with Western electronic and pop into her songs, dubbing the resulting style as ‘cha’abi moderne’—off of the Egyptian ‘shaabi’ which includes themes that reassert a proud Egyptian identity (“Biography”). A lot of her music, in fact, seems to reflect these political statements that one should be proud of their individual diversity and stress multiculturalism. Atlas’ own unique background is comparable to the vast culture of the Mediterranean itself, a whole body encompassing so many mixed heritages that it’s hard to solely distinguish one of them without picking up on influences from the next. Many of her songs and covers are recorded in the French language, again, to emphasize the malleability of sound and application of different themes presented to the public through the verses. However, her mixing of musical styles was originally critiqued in France until it saw more exposure and grew popularized among fellow Arab artists (“Biography”). Atlas’ first album entitled Diaspora depicts a literal translation of her diffusion from her homeland which is personally reflected in her music; ironically, it seems as Atlas does not have one particular homeland, but several to which she looks for identity and influence.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Ne Me Quitte Pas
Natacha Atlas’ 2001 album Ayeshteni translates from Arabic to ‘rebirth’ or ‘you have given me life.’ It includes a cover of Jacques Brel’s 1959 big hit Ne Me Quitte Pas or ‘don’t leave me’ in French. Brel wrote the song in response to being thrown out of his mistress’ life and expresses his pain and yearning in a very poetic scheme. At first, I wondered why she might have recorded such a song—perhaps due to her desire to blend Arabic into European, and giving it that twist with varied vocalization styles. In an interview with Onda Rock, however, she responded that “I try to find songs with really good words and good melodies. That’s all,” and by taking an original song and transcribing it in Arabic gives it a completely different transformation and feel (Fabretti). The songs are about that continual change, a flexible, working piece that can be molded with an inherited diversity. She wants her music to be portrayed as exotic, full of emotion, like in traditional Arabic, but distinguishable enough so that one can recognize the roots of the song. “In the process of translating these classic songs to her more world-tinged template, Atlas realized that her skill for negotiating the space between two very disparate things had carried over into her music as well” (Pytlik).
In addition to Atlas’ 2001 version, Ne Me Quitte Pas was also covered by Nina Simone in 1965 and Sting in 1993. When comparing all to Brel’s original, I’ve been recognizing the underlying themes of powerful emotion expressed in different ways with empathic lyrics. The original begins with a very high-pitched, almost eerie solo violin, when equally high piano tones introduce Jacque’s Brel’s contrastingly deep voice. As I mentioned, the lyrics are very poetic, almost as if Brel is reciting them with diction rather than a completely fluid and traditional melody. The tone is extremely melancholy and solitary, as the piano is the voice’s only accompaniment. The second verse is starkly powerful, with lots of gusto that truly makes the listener empathize with Brel. Some of the verses indicate Brel’s longing to be reunited with his love, for his identity is only found in her, much like Atlas’ quest in discovering what exactly her identity is or means when her heritage is rooted in places all over the globe. Brel’s lyrics hold an aspiration, one that he claims to make real for his love, and all the while the audience feels the indulgent power of his prose. It ends more calmly again, with a trilling piano and violin crescendo slowly fading as Brel repeats a pleading ‘Ne me quitte pas.’ Nina Simone’s take on the tune is generally much faster as her voice starts right in, this time with full orchestral instrumentation. The words are slightly more drawn out with vibrato and she possesses the same emphasis on verses two and four. Her uniquely deep voice is also broken up by short instrumental interludes between the verses. Sting’s version relates more to the original in the duet with the piano. Yet, he takes even more liberty with the words and tones, often pausing and lingering to draw attention to the line. His is the only cover where I did not recognize as much of a contrast with verses two and four, as his voice was deeply passionate throughout, practicing a more flowing melody in contrast to Brel’s poetic sense. He ends in the same way as the original, though, with a definite slowing of tempo mimicked by the sole piano as he holds a harmonic chord.
Natacha Atlas brings an even greater transformation of Brel’s hit. The instrumentation is completely different and the introduction almost sounds upbeat at first. There are evident Western popular influences right away, also with a tambourine and tinny-sounding percussion. When her voice starts in, I am reminded of Brel in that the lines seem more recited, like powerful poetic statements and maybe not taking as much liberty as Sting does, for example. The one lyrical addition, of all four artists, is in Atlas’ cover where she adds the line, 'ma t'siibinish' in between lines of the chorus. The phrase is Arabic, meaning 'don't leave me' or 'ne me quitte pas.' This addition brings further Arabic influence to the song, as she literally takes Brel's original title and translates it so that listeners can also hear the juxtaposition of its sound against the French language. At this part of the song, she continues to undulate her voice with ‘melisma.’ She, again, adds the same passion to verses two and four, while the instrumentation, interestingly, sounds more Arabic and grows louder. Atlas does take freedom with the chorus, however, carrying her voice through the Arabic interludes. In the final verse, I finally heard the original piano along with her twist of Arabic instruments when they all concluded and….you think the song is over. All of a sudden, after a pause, Atlas continues to repeat the chorus in Arabic style, with much liberty and emotion here.
In addition to Atlas’ 2001 version, Ne Me Quitte Pas was also covered by Nina Simone in 1965 and Sting in 1993. When comparing all to Brel’s original, I’ve been recognizing the underlying themes of powerful emotion expressed in different ways with empathic lyrics. The original begins with a very high-pitched, almost eerie solo violin, when equally high piano tones introduce Jacque’s Brel’s contrastingly deep voice. As I mentioned, the lyrics are very poetic, almost as if Brel is reciting them with diction rather than a completely fluid and traditional melody. The tone is extremely melancholy and solitary, as the piano is the voice’s only accompaniment. The second verse is starkly powerful, with lots of gusto that truly makes the listener empathize with Brel. Some of the verses indicate Brel’s longing to be reunited with his love, for his identity is only found in her, much like Atlas’ quest in discovering what exactly her identity is or means when her heritage is rooted in places all over the globe. Brel’s lyrics hold an aspiration, one that he claims to make real for his love, and all the while the audience feels the indulgent power of his prose. It ends more calmly again, with a trilling piano and violin crescendo slowly fading as Brel repeats a pleading ‘Ne me quitte pas.’ Nina Simone’s take on the tune is generally much faster as her voice starts right in, this time with full orchestral instrumentation. The words are slightly more drawn out with vibrato and she possesses the same emphasis on verses two and four. Her uniquely deep voice is also broken up by short instrumental interludes between the verses. Sting’s version relates more to the original in the duet with the piano. Yet, he takes even more liberty with the words and tones, often pausing and lingering to draw attention to the line. His is the only cover where I did not recognize as much of a contrast with verses two and four, as his voice was deeply passionate throughout, practicing a more flowing melody in contrast to Brel’s poetic sense. He ends in the same way as the original, though, with a definite slowing of tempo mimicked by the sole piano as he holds a harmonic chord.
Natacha Atlas brings an even greater transformation of Brel’s hit. The instrumentation is completely different and the introduction almost sounds upbeat at first. There are evident Western popular influences right away, also with a tambourine and tinny-sounding percussion. When her voice starts in, I am reminded of Brel in that the lines seem more recited, like powerful poetic statements and maybe not taking as much liberty as Sting does, for example. The one lyrical addition, of all four artists, is in Atlas’ cover where she adds the line, 'ma t'siibinish' in between lines of the chorus. The phrase is Arabic, meaning 'don't leave me' or 'ne me quitte pas.' This addition brings further Arabic influence to the song, as she literally takes Brel's original title and translates it so that listeners can also hear the juxtaposition of its sound against the French language. At this part of the song, she continues to undulate her voice with ‘melisma.’ She, again, adds the same passion to verses two and four, while the instrumentation, interestingly, sounds more Arabic and grows louder. Atlas does take freedom with the chorus, however, carrying her voice through the Arabic interludes. In the final verse, I finally heard the original piano along with her twist of Arabic instruments when they all concluded and….you think the song is over. All of a sudden, after a pause, Atlas continues to repeat the chorus in Arabic style, with much liberty and emotion here.
What does it all mean?
Atlas’ amalgamation of styles has caused critics to note that she “mines her classical Arabic musical training to deliver a deep, danceable experience” (Siegler). Her unique interpretation of such classical compositions as Ne Me Quitte Pas shows her desire to push music a bit further, to ease it and her audience alike, out of their comfort zones into a new flood of experience. Atlas’ self-proclaimed ‘tacky, modern’ feel is about testing the limits of each song, and giving the audience something to talk about, something to think about, and something to dance along to. By 'tacky and modern' Atlas is addressing the unique sound made from combining today's pop beats with traditional Arabic melisma in her voice and Arabic instrumentation. The styles may not seem like they go together since the mix is initially foreign to the ear (tacky) but that is the exact point Atlas tries to make, in introducing something new and different (modern) that represents her own persona. The forms of nostalgia often found in her Arabic music influences clash and, at the same time, meld fusions of today’s popular culture (Siegler). She's all about mixing styles, cultures to produce her own effect, where, if you listen closely, the Arabic beats are positioned to fit with underlying rhythms of the song. It’s as if in each song, Atlas wants to stir something in the listener—she wants to get a reaction out of you, whether or not it is like or dislike, but simply, a reaction. Her purpose is to make one feel alive and part of something, as she once searched for finding her place in her many cultures.Atlas seemingly admits that her music is not solely about the sound as it may get different critiques, but about conveying something beyond what one initially hears when the music is played. The music may be critiqued for its mix of Eastern and Western styles, perhaps coming across as too jumbled for some who prefer to recognize a clear-cut origin of the piece. But she performs something meaningful to her, expressing a complexity from within that will go where it may, with no necessitated path or rule to follow. Such a free style may not please everyone, that's true, but her hope is that it does reach those who believe in reading deep into the song for its significance and not its reputation as a crowd-pleaser, necessarily. I believe Atlas is a heroine of many accounts, letting people know that it’s okay not to know exactly who they are, and that looking to your heritage is just the beginning. From there, one can embody a sense of place within today’s world using ideals of heritage to assert oneself in an often confusing, modern world.
Sources:
“Biography.” Natacha Atlas: Mishmaoul.
http://www.mish-maoul.com/.
Fabretti, Claudio. “The Queen of Arabic Pop.” Onda Rock.
2001. http://www.natachaatlas.net/natlas_gb.html.
Pytlik, Mary. “Mediation and Meditation.” HMV.com. 2001.
Siegler, Dylan. “No Borders for Natacha Atlas.” Billboard - The
International Newsweekly of Music, Video and Home
Entertainment. 110:21 (23 May 1998).
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