Nigeria, 2011

Danny Young’s video for his song, “Pop Champagne” contains some of the best, unintentional art direction I’ve seen in a while. The video starts with images of rolling postcard cityscapes (New York, etc) cutting to Danny in the lobby of what looks like the kind of over-lit, 4 star chain hotel that terrorizes the world with its insipid aesthetic of fake palmtrees and high ceilings. In the midst of this are stock videos of posh party ice cubes, unidentified bottles being splashed, money stacks and such. A video made entirely out of the artist singing in an American chain hotel edited with stock videos of supposed luxury items and money is mind-blowingly corporate in the realest way. The luxury lifestyle and its commodities, as culled from American rap videos, have been transformed into their truest, basest, and ultimately banal form. Danny’s nondescript, high street fashion attire also emphasizes the IRL corporate sensation of the video. The song itself is not bad, if anything it’s one of the better R&B-style, faintly trance hits being made in Nigeria at the moment. The lyrics are themselves earnest in depicting the expense of global luxury goods (overinflated presumably for rhyming purposes) an indication of the song’s humdrum title and mass marketed symbol of celebration. “Prada shoe now, 1 million. Bottle of rose, 2 million…If you got this money…If we pop this champagne, pop this rose…” Against a white Hummer in an underground car park, local video vixens getting smoke-machined, Danny Young has created a cohesive vision of a hollow reality–the global luxury lifestyle and it’s transparently marketed dream laid bare.

Since Gaddafi’s infamous “Zenga Zenga” speech, a new trend has manifested across the Arab world. Remixing dictatorial speeches into satirical techno tracks and uploading them to Youtube. In this clip, we see Bashar Al Assad, Syria’s ruthless former dentist at the helm, stating “Ilal ammam! Naseer ilal ammam” (Go forth! We shall go forth!) Mashed with select clips of Gaddafi and Bashar chanting, “revolution” and against, “terrorists, traitors, villains, cads” and the like. A lot fo artful chopping created parts like Bahsar saying, “This is the End,” cutting back and forth to Gaddafi’s response, “For You!” The track ends with with the statement, “Until the regime collapses.” The popularity of these remixes is indicated further by the fact that they’re available to purchase in CD format in select stores. Amazing.

Thanks to Monira Al Qadiri

Ukraine, 2011?

This video is an undated remix of Ukranian pop star, Evgenia Vlasova’s aptly-named, “Wind of Hope” track from 2002. A pastiche of the original video and some amazing Windows ’97 kaleidoscopic beach templates (don’t quote me, I’m no screensaver connoisseur), the imagery is meant to elicit the most appropriate kind of “hope” — the default kitsch variety. The unmistakable thread lining a lot of Ukrainian pop music is that many artists are classically trained, which when translated into pop, manifests itself as hilariously un-innovative. This cross-blend of classical education and pop production is quite prominent in China and former Soviet countries. Alas, the results are excessively cheesy in a virtuosic kind of way, Evgenia can clearly hit some really high notes, but who cares? The bizarre chorus even contains a hint of early 90s Deep Forest style vocals (the kind spoken by a small tribe) transmuted into early 2000s scat. Actually, the entire song is early 90s era folk club sounding, especially at the 2:20 mark breakdown. And that fact is the most compelling feature of this song, in addition to Evgenia’s superbly awkward shoulder dance. Nothing like starting the year with a low res beach thumbnail-heavy, former Soviet bloc, post-opera, retro euro club track!

Angola, 2008

Ok, this is a kuduro video. There are a shitload of blog entries and articles about this genre hailing from Angola and the Angolan diaspora. Read up. I’m only discussing the video here, which is “Mama Kudi” by DJ Nays and Costuleta. The video begins with a BMW SUV pulling up on a dirt road, then all hell breaks loose. We see the requisite dancing girls, but more importantly, Costuleta—the one-legged co-producer of this track—is dancing with and without his crutches in a way that two-legged men could only dream of doing. In a variety of locations and outfits (this video is a collage of several others), Costuleta owns his disabled prowess, even adding a one-legged dancing boy (in basketball attire, no less) to make it all the more palatable. From his rippling and ripped, stone-washed jeans, we see a man possessed by life and the inescapably sick rhythm of kuduro. There’s a hilarious scene where he pretends to use his other shoe as a phone, while sliding up the floor. He repeats this gesture in a few other videos, making it his “thing.”

I can’t even begin to delve into his catalogue of outfits; they’re all fake, third world sporty genius—my favorite kind of sportswear. The video ends with Costuleta riding a bicycle and quickly cuts to him rollerblading through a mall!

Speechless? Join the club.

Iraq, 2011

I really wish I could just permanently blog about Iraqi music, it’s always on point. In this video, Hassan Hadi sings Aroosa, meaning “Bride.” The bride in question is at her dead husband’s grave, looking a little Matrix with her entourage. Hassan is coyly asking for a kiss with the permission of her dead man. Back up: Iraqis are an extremely melancholic people, and no amount of death references can faze them. They sing about death and love all the time in more ingenious ways than you could possibly imagine. My question is why is this bride captured in such an unflattering facial expression? She looks like she smelled Saddam’s zombie fart. And Hassan, his eyebrows, haircut, open fake polo shirt and soul patch are Levantine thug styling. Walk anywhere in the streets of Syria, Lebanon, Iraq or Jordan and you will encounter hordes of Hassans. It’s the look for men aged 20 to 40. Not to mention the location–I’m positive it’s Sweden (The Iraqi population is one of the largest ethnic minority groups currently residing in the country). The chorus travels on the refrain, “Oh bride, she’s wearing black. Oh bride, give me a kiss.” Um she’s a widow, dude. The song is sick and as with most Iraqi pop, the drums are like machine gun fire–very aptly heard at this romantic cemetery scene.

Dominican Republic, 2010

Omega “El Fuerte” is a singer with a musical double life. He has a repertoire of grandpa-style mambo, but also makes a kind of “narco merengue” or Merengue Electronico (the latter is also the name of a song of his), as exemplified in this video. The song is Tu Si Quieres (You Want It), and I’m sure he’s singing some gangsta lyrics cause the video is about someone, mainly him, getting shot and taken to hospital in slow motion. The video is barely interesting, and is posted strictly for audio purposes. The few notables are Omega’s Gucci baker boy hat–a hat that is a close rival to the fedora in the Vile Headgear Olympics–paired with Ed Hardy tee and leather jacket–against the obligatory BMW showroom shots so very dear to the hearts of thugs worldwide.

Merengueros (singers of Merengue, a Dominican genre) may seem comical to outsiders, with their visible lipgloss and wrap-around sunglasses acting all macho. Their posters are all over DIS’s official home, Hooper Street (AKA Hooper Place), so this is personal. We see their faces on a daily basis and know their names, Agaukate, Raulin Rodriguez, Tito Rojas, and so on. But Omega is different, grandpa mambo aside, his voice is unmistakable, deep and cold. And this genre is an obvious, however nascent progression. It’s nastier and harsher than regular merengue, which I personally have a hard time with as a result of the excess use of brass and piano combos. But Omega’s voice has one funny glitch, he occasionally tries to sing falsetto (it happens briefly for a few seconds in the middle of this song) and is endearingly bad. But overall, Omega has a few gems to his name, and this is one of them.
You just have to look hard and embrace the lipgloss.

Jamaica, 2009

Listening to Jamaican female MCs nowadays is like being pounded with a steel handbag. The violence of their vocals is real, and like most Jamaicans, they don’t give a fuck. This video is a dream duet between two such MCs, Spice and Pamputtae called Slim vs. Fluffy. And although the song is surprsingly about weight, slim vs. fat (fluffy)–a subject denigrating to women, this video inadvertently chills the heated issue with a pride-heavy sparring match.

The video battle between Slim and Fluffy girls–I’ll confess I’m partial to Fluffy–presents animated fantasy magazine covers, workout competitions, Broadway-style lights, matching glittery desses and boxing matches dedicated to “can’t do” combat zones. Pamputtae declares, “Me fat, but you can’t wine you waist like me.” Spice retorts, “Me slim, so a me have up di betta winery!” I pray for a Style Wines–instead of Wars–video where these statements appear as competition categories. The stylistic elements of the video, however varied, are completely overshadowed by the volcanic energy of the MCs, which is what really shines. Even though the random Chinese type and slogans on the Slim Girls Magazine cover is pretty amazing, Fluffy Girls mag with it’s “Fluffy Fashion” section wins my personal editorial prize. Pamputtae rules, ending the video when her iron booty culminates in the literal downfall of a Slim Boy. Where can I get a subscription?

Kurdistan, 2011

A Serb coined the term “Turbo Folk” in the late ’80s to describe a revved-up folk music via pop and dance engine fuel. And although Turbo Folk is inherently Serbian, I believe the term can be used to describe many a globally updated folk genre. Keeping this in mind, we approach the video for the song “Gal Gal Nazdaran” by Mehdi Alizadeh with a fast and furious zeal.

The song is an example of Kurdish folk music blended lovingly with a local interpretation of techno. Imagine the dreamy betrothal of a rural sheep herder to his cyber-goth, neon-dreadlocked wench. Ah! Such a heavenly match can yield only the most sublimely spliced offspring.

Before we delve into the video: for those who know little of Kurdish culture, contemporary use of the term “Kurdistan” refers to parts of eastern Turkey, northern Iraq, northwestern Iran, and northern Syria inhabited mainly by Kurds. And so, the Kurds are essentially a nationless people living literally on the edge… of four countries.

The intro of the video, especially the first 30-odd seconds, is surreal to the point of hallucinatory. Amidst a somewhat dark, techno-like track and much camera quake FX, we view a row of male dancers in a field, arms linked in a dabke-style line dance, wearing traditional brown jumpsuits. Our singer, Mehdi Alizadeh, suddenly appears, and the song transitions from techno to full-blown turbo folk. And much of the video revolves around the algorithm of capturing the dancers hopping to and fro dizzyingly intercut with our singer’s exceptional eyebrowèd countenance.

The universe of Kurdish line dancing videos is large; this otherworldly genre is just one tiny bubble in it. But as far as I’m concerned, Rural and Rave have never looked better.

Estonia, 2007?

As I searched for this week’s installment, I decided to go for a more random country, one that didn’t strike me as a primary magnet for world music lovers.

And that’s when I came across this confounding video for Raske loobuda, a song by the convivial Estonian duo, Pixie Twins. Confounding because it’s intensely comedic, while being entirely devoid of the later intention or any sense of self-awareness.
Basically, if a Hallmark card could be turned into an earnest music video, this is it. The art direction is an unabashed catalogue of near-shockingly generic poses and gestures. The mid 90′s Ann Taylor Loft styling, sedate fake-fur collars and choppy hair set against autumnal forest and northern beach are bewildering, because they so virulently embody the height of banality.

The song itself, which sounds like a cover of something I’d rather not be familiar with,might as well be white noise. The video inhabits a strange location, where blithe spirits toss autumn leaves at each other–one visited by bad Hollywood rom coms, advertising agencies, postcard makers, high street clothing catalogs from the past five decades, etc. This magnum opus of mawkishness reads like a spoof. But it goes far beyond that… Raske loobuda is a perky Video 101 presentation for a set of insipid, commercial stereotypes. And therein lies our corny beauty.

Pixie Twins take the scattering of pink rose petals into a picture-perfect river, in contempo-casual attire, very seriously.
And so should you.

Tanzania, 2007

Soggy Doggy (AKA Chief Rumanyka) has to be one of the best MC names out there. The fact that he’s rapping over what clearly sounds like Grime in Tanzania is totally badass.

The intro for this video features Soggy dangling a silver cross chain, behind him a beach full of people wearing white clothes, swaying to a Grimey beat. We then see Soggy, a man of small stature, practically drowning (in a good way) in triple XL basketball gear, walking down the street with his bros, clapping with Josephine–the angelic vocalist on the chorus. Cut to a disheveled man welcoming the viewer to a sign that reads, “Hot Pot Family Utajiju Communications Centre.” I’m gonna go ahead and assume, seeing his other videos, that Hot Pot Family is the name of Soggy’s crew, another ingenius title.The rest of the video contains much of the same, interspersed with small comic moments like the latter scene–reminiscent of some homemade British Grime videos that “take the mickey” out of one subject or another. And although the rapping on this song is not of a high calibre, the beat is unquestionably sick.

All I know is that Bongo Records, the Tanzanian label that’s signed Soggy and several other local acts–like the rapper Flexx, featured on an earlier Global .WAV entry–is on the right tip. Not to mention the fact that Josephine and her girls in white and navy Sean John attire are killing me softly.