Global hits: Rachid Taha

Given the tensions between North African immigrants and the French government, it's not surprising that the tension finds its way into the music made by North African artists in France. But not everyone you might expect is listening to that music. "The World"'s Marco Werman goes to Paris in part two of our Global Hit on Muslim music in France.

French-Algerian singer Rachid Taha has a lot on his mind. His take on world events is not one that's articulated by a lot of people.

Taha: When I hear George Bush, and when I hear Osama bin Laden, I hear two bedouin nomads.

The only difference he says, is that one of them is from the desert of Texas and drives an SUV, and the other is from the desert of Saudi Arabia and rides a dromedary. Taha says Bush and bin Laden come from similar well-heeled backgrounds. And both, he says, use a similar fundamentalist rhetoric.

With strong words like that, you'd think that these days Rachid Taha would find a natural ally in French President Jacques Chirac. But he hasn't.

The French administration is racist he says. Not all of it, he adds quickly. But a lot of the French government has a problem with Arabs, and in particular, Algerians.

Rachid Taha's music springs out of these observations. "Barra Barra" is a trance of sorts in which Taha sings of the chaos that results when a society has lost its way. His sound is large, his words are socially relevant. But Rachid Taha is what the French call a Maghreb musician, an artist with North African roots. And he faces an uphill battle in France.

Taha: It's impossible to listen to any Maghrebians if he don't sing in French.

Rabah Mezouane is the musical program director at the Arab World Institute in Paris. There's a quota in France, Mezouane explains, that ropes off a large percentage of French-language music for broadcast. That means musicians who sing in Arabic, even French-born Arab musicians like Rachid Taha, can't get a fair shot at getting heard on French radio. There's another paradox in that which many French fail to understand, says Rabah Mezouane.

Mezouane: All this music is produced here in France. For me it's French music. For example, when Rachid Taha goes to Mexico or to London or any foreign country, he represents French music, you know. But when they sing in Arabic, the radio don't want cause they say, yes, our listeners will be frightened. In fact, there is some racism in that.

Rachid Taha takes raï, the traditional Algerian dance music with typically opinionated lyrics, and mixes it with rock that he personally loves. Rabah Mezouane says that this narrows Taha's popularity even among young listeners from Arabic-speaking communities.

Mezouane: I think the community generally is interested by music speaking about the problems of this community. But for them, Rachid Taha for example is more a rocker.

You only have to go into the cassette and CD shops in Paris's Arab quarter of Barbès to see what Rabah Mezouane means. One of the CD salesmen there, Baghdad Ben-Klifa, says that the French-Arab community isn't opposed to politically astute singers like Rachid Taha. But, he says, the community wants to hear the current hits from North Africa. That's what I look for, says Baghdad, and that's what I sell the most of.

Rachid Taha is working on a new CD that he'll probably release this year. To hear Taha talk about it, the album will likely find an audience among the most adventurous and progressive listeners, regardless of their backgrounds.

Taha: My music, what's it become? More radical, more radical in terms of the instrumentation. But also more radical in how I approach the musical subjects. And my words have become satellites of sorts, as if I'm in a rocket, and I go into outer space to drop off satellites to watch over the earth. That's my music.

Rachid Taha's thematic approach has also become more radical. He despises the racism in France and abroad. He sees an instinct all over the world that is motivated by greed. And he says that a lot of people when they don't get what they want, they kill without remorse. And for some people, to watch someone die is nothing at all.

What gives you hope? I asked Rachid Taha.

People who think the opposite of that, he said.

"The World", February 27, 2003