mardi, juin 08, 2004
Le grand Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
Une voie unique, une musique.. magique, qui sort tout droit des contrées de la perse antique.. de Samarquand de la route de la soie
une musique infiniment traditionnelle et authentique mais aussi icroyablement universelle qui a su depasser les frontieres culturelle pour aller fascinner d'autre "oreilles".. occidentales en l'occurance.
une tabla, un harmonium, des claquement de mains, le genie musiqual de nusrat et sa voix "velvet-fire" ..
tu peux po rester indifferent qd tu ecoutes,
il est peut etre le meilleur ambassadeur de la culture pakistanaise..
n'oublions pas que derière lui s'etend plus de 700 ans de chans et de traditions soufi :"qawwali"
un jour, son pere est mort, il avait alors 16 ans, il etait encore un adolecent, il s'est reveillé, il s'est mis à chanter il s'est jamais arreté.. il s'est donné à sa musique, un devoument total..
il chantait dieu, le prophet et l'amour..
nusrat est mort en 1997 mais sa voix et ses melodies resonnerons à jamais ds nos oreilles.. il est mort il avait à peine 48 ans.. et il a laissé un repertoire riche de centaines de chans
decidement : les grands meurent jeunes
Jeff Buckley un jour à dit de lui
“The first time I heard the voice of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was in Harlem in 1990. My roommate and I stood there blasting it in his room. We were all-awash in the thick undulating tide of dark Punjabi tabla rhythms, spiked ith synchronized handclaps booming from above and below in hard, perfect time. I heard the clarion call of harmoniums dancing the antique melody around like giant, singing wooden spiders. Then, all of a sudden, the rising of one, then ten voices hovering over the tone like a flock of geese ascending into formation across the sky. Then came the voice of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Part Buddha, part demon, part mad angel -- his voice is velvet-fire, simply incomparable. Nusrat's blending of classical improvisations to the art of Qawwali, combined with his daredevil style and his sensitivity, puts him in a category all his own, above all others in his field. His very enunciation went straight into me. I knew not one word of Urdu, and somehow it still hooked me into a story that he wove with his wordless voice. I remember, my senses fully froze in order to feel melody after melody crash upon each other in waves of improvisations; with each line being repeated by the men in chorus, restated again by the main soloists, and then Nusrat setting the whole bloody thing aflame with his rapid-fire scatting, turning classical Indian Solfeggio (Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Nisa) into a chaotic/manic birdsong. The phrase burst into a climax somewhere, with Nusrat's upper register painting a melody that made my heart long to fly. The piece went on for fifteen minutes. I ate my heart out. I felt a rush of adrenaline in my chest, like I was on the edge of a cliff, wondering when I would jump and how will the ocean catch me.”
allah yar7mou wi na33mou...
un site sypma sur Nusrat :
Une voie unique, une musique.. magique, qui sort tout droit des contrées de la perse antique.. de Samarquand de la route de la soie
une musique infiniment traditionnelle et authentique mais aussi icroyablement universelle qui a su depasser les frontieres culturelle pour aller fascinner d'autre "oreilles".. occidentales en l'occurance.
une tabla, un harmonium, des claquement de mains, le genie musiqual de nusrat et sa voix "velvet-fire" ..
tu peux po rester indifferent qd tu ecoutes,
il est peut etre le meilleur ambassadeur de la culture pakistanaise..
n'oublions pas que derière lui s'etend plus de 700 ans de chans et de traditions soufi :"qawwali"
un jour, son pere est mort, il avait alors 16 ans, il etait encore un adolecent, il s'est reveillé, il s'est mis à chanter il s'est jamais arreté.. il s'est donné à sa musique, un devoument total..
il chantait dieu, le prophet et l'amour..
nusrat est mort en 1997 mais sa voix et ses melodies resonnerons à jamais ds nos oreilles.. il est mort il avait à peine 48 ans.. et il a laissé un repertoire riche de centaines de chans
decidement : les grands meurent jeunes
Jeff Buckley un jour à dit de lui
“The first time I heard the voice of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was in Harlem in 1990. My roommate and I stood there blasting it in his room. We were all-awash in the thick undulating tide of dark Punjabi tabla rhythms, spiked ith synchronized handclaps booming from above and below in hard, perfect time. I heard the clarion call of harmoniums dancing the antique melody around like giant, singing wooden spiders. Then, all of a sudden, the rising of one, then ten voices hovering over the tone like a flock of geese ascending into formation across the sky. Then came the voice of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Part Buddha, part demon, part mad angel -- his voice is velvet-fire, simply incomparable. Nusrat's blending of classical improvisations to the art of Qawwali, combined with his daredevil style and his sensitivity, puts him in a category all his own, above all others in his field. His very enunciation went straight into me. I knew not one word of Urdu, and somehow it still hooked me into a story that he wove with his wordless voice. I remember, my senses fully froze in order to feel melody after melody crash upon each other in waves of improvisations; with each line being repeated by the men in chorus, restated again by the main soloists, and then Nusrat setting the whole bloody thing aflame with his rapid-fire scatting, turning classical Indian Solfeggio (Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Nisa) into a chaotic/manic birdsong. The phrase burst into a climax somewhere, with Nusrat's upper register painting a melody that made my heart long to fly. The piece went on for fifteen minutes. I ate my heart out. I felt a rush of adrenaline in my chest, like I was on the edge of a cliff, wondering when I would jump and how will the ocean catch me.”
allah yar7mou wi na33mou...
un site sypma sur Nusrat :
Comments:
Enregistrer un commentaire
