Review: WOMAD 2016

Is it really ten years since WOMAD upped sticks from Reading and came down to the West country? We celebrated the anniversary of that legendary 2006 mudathon in blissfully dry conditions disporting ourselves on lush grass in front of an Open Air stage that had been rejigged to a more central site.This change prompted much sceptical grumbling from old timers fearing a potential crowd crush for the headliners that didn’t, as it happened, happen despite big enough audiences for Friday’s John Grant, Saturday’s Parliament Funkadelic and Sunday’s St Germain. Of the three it was probably George Clinton’s lot that did the headlining business best: a shambolic on-stage party of seamless fun funk and metalloid rock unreconstructedly the 70s Blaxploitation era. 

John Grant’s show, by contrast, was pretty severe until the final half-dozen numbers brought a Scott Walkerish brand of Grand Guignol pop, and St Germain’s grafting of assorted African musicians onto his hits from the 90s felt fairly shallow on a stage that had resounded to the mighty Baaba Maal the day before. The real star of the headliners, however, was Louise the Signer (not exactly her real name) whose virtuoso performance during Funkadelic’s set blended effortlessly into the energetic gesticulations of the many singers around her. While gleefully interpreting the risqué lyrics of songs like Dirty Queen for the benefit of the hearing impaired it was clear she was having a great time herself and so were we.

But, despite the dubious gender politics of George C’s retro-funk, and away from the male-dominated main stage, the weekend really belonged to inspirationally strong women from every corner of the globe, whether it was Portuguese Lula Pena’s defiant songs and remarkable self-taught guitar playing, Ghana’s exuberant young Afro-popster Wiyaala whipping up an instant party among the trees, the emotional intelligence and elegant whimsy of our own This Is The Kit or Aynur’s passionate Kurdish lamentations. 

The most moving experience was undoubtedly Les Amazones D’Afrique, an astonishing West African female supergroup centred on Mariam Doumbia (of ‘Amadou and Mariam’ fame) but also boasting Mamani Keita, Inna Modja and Nneke among their ranks. While the women were unafraid to talk about issues like genital mutilation (which they had experienced themselves) the music they made was brilliantly assertive and positive, as was the sight of nine female African musicians performing together for a packed audience.

Two Spanish women also provided stand-out moments: Buika’s stylish jazz flamenco has by now almost become a genre in its own right and she held a spellbound crowd throughout her coolly passionate set, but for many people the uncategorisable Mercedes Peon gave the most impressive performance of the whole weekend. Stringing together her solo music using crash pad samples, acoustic percussion and Galician bagpipes she created an evolving soundtrack to which she added a host of contrasting voices. These ranged from declamatory shouting to cutesy babytalk, with crooning soulfulness and the harsh steel of flamenco also emerging by turns. Her expressive face and eloquent body language overcame the fact that all this was in Spanish and she left us with a strong impression of a true artist taking a folk tradition into the future on her own terms.

Similarly startling, but in a totally different way, the Sardinian men of Concorde e Tenore de Orosei stepped unsmiling onto the Siam tent stage in the middle of the night, gathered around one microphone and produced stunning ethereal a cappella harmonies throughout a mix of traditional sacred songs and folk tunes from their homeland. Both the music itself and the way it was performed were completely unexpected and spoke of an island culture unique in its isolation from outside influences. 

You could almost say the same of Cameroonian Blick Bassi who, like Mercedes Peon, has conjured up his own sound world, his being a synthesis of African vocal styling, bluesman Skip James’ rough-edged earthiness and Blick’s own playfully exuberant personality. Put like that it could have sounded annoying but it was the opposite of that, with the rich addition of cello and trombone creatively used around his unusual banjo style.

Compared to most other festivals there’s a buttoned-down respectability about WOMAD that means lots of nice behaviour, no litter and a generally relaxed vibe but it’s worth pointing out that, given the opportunity, there’s always a party waiting to break out. Three daytime acts hit the spot well before sunset: Brazil’s wild ska-punters Cabru??ra had a mass Conga line going at lunchtime, while the aforementioned Baaba Maal descended into the crowd to an eruption of excitement during his well-crafted mid-afternoon set and it only took about three minutes of Congotronic legends Konono No ‘s distinctive four-to-the-floor sonic onslaught to have a packed Siam Tent bouncing with teatime energy. All three were eloquent proof, like so many of the acts at this very successful WOMAD, that the emotional and energising power of music knows no frontiers to those with ears to hear (and feet to shuffle).