RACHID TAHA
"Diwân" (1998)

...Torn between the harsh reality of their homeland and the hostile environment abroad, Algerian artists have a long history rooted in themes of exile, departure, and longing. Addressing such concerns, Rachid Taha broke the charts in 1998 with his innovative reworking of a sha'bi song first sung by Abderrahmane Amrani, better known as Dahmane El Harrachi (1926-1980).

Rachid Taha, “Ya Rayah”
("Diwân", Barclay 1998)

Oh departing Traveler, where are you heading?
Your journey is bound to failure
How many travelers before you
Have sought the path with similar results?

How many cities and deserts have I roamed?
How much time have I wasted
Touring from one place to another?

Oh lost one, no matter how much you run away
Your destiny will end in exhaustion
Time has passed you by
And you have yet to notice it.

Taha's version of "Ya Rayah" is a classic example of a traditional song presented in a new fashion.* "Ya Rayah" begins with a short taqsim, improvisation, on the banjo instead of the ud that smoothly leads into the piece proper, which is characterized by a heavy down beat.** The song's popularity stems from its simple groove and summation of the new generation’s plight, seeking freedom and a better life. Sung and released in Paris, "Ya Rayah" capitalizes on the ancient Algerian concept of mehna in its embodiment of Algerians' struggle, loss, and yearning to go back home. Here, concepts like traveling and touring take on a gloomy destiny that lead to despair and loss. One can even draw connections between the "touring" star, its migration through the Universe, and the exiled self of the Algerian people. Burdened by poverty and their constant search outside of Algeria for a better life, their spirit is in a constant state of travel, intensified by feelings of exile and departure. We can only imagine how such lyrics would strike a chord within the hearts of hundreds of thousands Algerian immigrants living away from home under conditions of displacement throughout Europe.
Taha's deep voice intensifies feelings of pain and agony. The strong down beat of the song allows Taha to accent the first word of each line as if the words are uttered by force and with struggle, thus magnifying the poetic imagery of the text. In "Bani al-Insane" ("The Human Race"), Taha re-orchestrates the song by NASS EL-GHIWANE, the popular Moroccan group from the 70s and 80s. NASS EL-GHIWANE sang revolutionary lyrics using mystic beats from the gnawa tradition - a ritualistic practice that mixes Islamic and Sub-Saharan musics - to express their dismay at the social and political conditions in Morocco. Their lead vocalist, Boujemaa' Hgour, attained legendary status when he died suddenly of a drug overdose, but most Moroccans believe that he was poisoned by the government because of his politically charged lyrics. "Bani al-Insane" strengthens the pessimistic and fatalistic vision of "Ya Rayah" when Taha sings: "My love, oh how much I love you / A calamity from the sky struck you down / Faced with this disaster / I am powerless". The calamity striking the beloved/homeland is left open ended and unexplained, a further elaboration of the mehna and sense of loss. To this end, Khaled's early songs of "El Harba Wayn" ("Where To Flee") and "Wally L'Dark" ("Go Back Home") gain even greater relevance, not only in their resistance against the Algerian government, but also by voicing dismay regarding the hostile conditions of Algerian immigrants in Europe. "Where To Flee" shows the same pessimism as "Ya Rayah", as the new generation find themselves surrounded by harsh political realities and the diaspora.

Nasser Al-Taee
"Running with the Rebels: Politics, identity and sexual narrative in Algerian raï", "Echo" Vol.1

* The main musical theme of "Ya Rayah" is similar to Cheb Hasni's "Yakti Yebek Ban" from his album "Latbkiche". In Taha's album, only two numbers (2 and 11) were composed by the artist while the rest rework famous Arabic traditional folk songs such as "Habina" (Farid al-Atrash, Egypt/Lebanon), "Bani Al-Insane” (NASS EL-GHIWANE, Morocco) and "Bent Sahra" (Ahmed Khelifi, Algeria). Thus the title of the album, "Diwân", Arabic for the forum for playing music.

** The tradition of using the banjo within sha'bi tradition in North Africa dates back to the '60s. Imported from Europe and the US, it was used to replace the traditional oud because of its louder sound, which make it a more appropriate instrument for playing within a larger ensemble and for outdoor concerts. Technically, however, it is used just as the oud, to improvise and to double the melodic line rather than play accompaniments.

* * *

The sophomore release from Algerian singer Rachid Taha. This is a stunning album, as he moves through straightforward raï to blues, rock, and the full spectrum of worldbeat. The album starts out with a song about exile from home, followed by a musical history of raï, covering all of the basic steps in the development of Taha's chosen base-style. An Egyptian film song from the great Farid El Atrache continues the barrage of bouncing Middle Eastern and North African sounds. A more modern version of the ay-ay genre ensues, with fuzzed guitars looped throughout. Some urban Algerian blues and a bit of chaâbi follow, on the topics of love and love lost. The album finishes with a stretch of slightly more serious songs, with a number based on the Algerian war for independence and the torture endured by its prisoners, a political song from a Moroccan group, a basic raï number in French pidgin, and a song from the frustrated youth of Algeria. This is something of a North African tour-de-force, as Taha moves from one style to another, always partially based in the raï tradition, but always expanding to other styles in the process. The songs can be backed by a simple flute, or by a group of rock guitars. Either way, the works are held together by the overriding compositions that Taha is dealing from. It's a great album for those that are already knowledgeable in raï for its new directions, and a nice album for newcomers as it displays the full breadth in a single disc.

Adam Greenberg
"All Nusic Guide"

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Born in Oran, Algeria, this forty years old gentleman ran away from his home country at the age of ten, on the way to France. He reached Paris where revolutionary episodes were happening, such as the famous "may of students". Rachid Taha soon became a sort of little myth in his new country, just like another artist, the well-known Kalhed, who settled in France, leaving Oran, too.
But, differently from Kalhed, Taha doesn't focus his attention on raï: on the contrary, when he hears this term he feels some sort of disgust, even if that kind of music represents Algeria throughout the world. His aim is to create an ageless and timeless music, able to recall traditional archetypes to match them with the various elements of modern life. Techno-pop and rhythmic equipment or industrial noises included.
It's not surprising that he's able to produce a very good stuff. That's partly because he can avail himself of the help of the genius of his family (his father who was a musician as well) and partly because he's able to use his job experience in a factory in a successful way.
As a result "Diwân" has an interesting and innovative language, ancestral and futurist at the same time. On one hand it reminds the masterpieces of chaâbi music, which are those psalmodies of the Algerian casbah; on the other hand, it ranges from trance-dance rhythms towards far worlds, strictly connected with the New Millennium. With an eye on the mind and the other on the body.

Roberto Gatti
"Mybestlife.com"

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On his U.S. debut, the Oran-born Eurodance phenom was so ethnotechno that few Anglophones guessed his politics were tougher than his beats. Lucky for us, here he elects to catch his breath, retreating from message disco into an Algerian equivalent of Bowie's "Pin Ups" or G'N'R's "Spaghetti Incident". An instant touchstone of Arab song and a Taha-composed tour of raï history pitch the collection higher than it can remain if it's gonna be as trad as the artist thinks decent. But throughout, the tunes, choruses, instrumental parts, and Taha's raw vocals invoke a cultural identity that any moderately adventurous tourist will find more entrancing than ethnotechno.

Robert Christgau
"The Village voice", September 23-29, 1998

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Rachid Taha is not only sporting a new hair color these days since the time of his 1996 release "Olé Olé". A new musical direction comes along the way with his latest release "Diwân".
"Diwân" is an Arabic word which means a collection or assembly of artistic works of sort-mainly poems. The record is a departure from Taha's experimental pop-guitar tunes of previous releases. In it, the Algerian-born, Parisian rocker digs in his Arabic heritage and puts together a collection of vintage songs which he remakes, along with a couple of original tunes of his own, composed in the same traditional vein. All the borrowed cuts are Algerian except for that of Farid El Atrach, the Syrian-born, Egyptian singer/composer mega star of the Arab world.
Three things work i n Taha's favor. One, the selection of songs is some of the best that the Algerian repertoire has to offer. From the wonderful chaâbi music of Dahman El Harrachi and Mohammad El Anka, to the intoxicating Algerian Sahara cut by Ahmed Khelifi. Taha had a superb taste in what he picked. Two, in remaking those wonderful songs, he paid great respect to the essence of the music and kept, in the process, its glorious beauty. Third, he had a team of musicians extraodinaire to work with - including Nabil Khalidi on the oud and banjo, and percussionist guru, Hossam Ramsy.
I don't particularly think that Taha's voice is much contribution to the CD (a fact that becomes so clear in the Farid El Atrache's cut - amazingly out of tune and colorless). I do have to say that the arrangements are brilliant for the most part and Taha's own compositions shine and hold their own, even in the presence of such great classics.

"World Music And Dance Productions"
(also appeared in "Pop Culture Press" web magazine, 2000)

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For his second album Algerian-born, Paris-based Rachid Taha has shed his blond hair and electronic sound - in both cases going back to his roots. On "Diwân" Taha conjures up a sound that is thoroughly Middle Eastern, but juiced up with Western touches such as string sections and the ocassional guitar or synthesizer. Again the songs lean to the long side, making the disc close to 70 minutes, but individually they use their time to build up an infectious momentum.
At his recent concert at Central Park Summerstage, Taha played a hard-rocking funk, as if he were trying to meet LED ZEPPELIN halfway between cultures. On his disc, however, Taha leans more heavily on traditional instruments, such as the oud, and sinuous strings.
Taha's husky voice is serviceable, though the appeal here is his creation of vibrant songs that kick it with a distinctly Arabic flavor. Taha's success abroad is a reminder that the urge to rock may be more universal than we Americans think.

Marty Lipp
"RootsWorld: African archive №8"

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The second collaboration between Taha, an Algerian living in France, and '70s prog rocker Steve Hillage, "Diwân" carries forward the old/new hybrid of 1996's "Olé Olé". Taha is clearly familiar with ancient Middle Eastern melodies, but he's also comfortable with the dance rhythms of Parisian nightclubs. Traditionalists will find the straightforward melodies and instrumentation of "Habina" and "Ach Adani" the most satisfying, but "Diwân"'s most adventurous track, "Bent Sahra", may be its best. Instead of strings, the song leans heavily on an industrial beat and the hypnotic mantra of a guest female vocalist. Though not for purists, it perfectly captures the urban throb of Paris and the intense dislocation felt by every immigrant.

David Bombeck
"Amazon.com"