Bled Memory

I often wish reviewers would appraise albums on the basis of what they actually are rather than what they want them to be. Sadly, Bled Memory is going to make me a brazen hypocrite. I wanted to hear the great hope of rai's new generation of French-born singers tearing up the rule book, trashing his hotel room, opening his mouth and ripping out my insides with jet-streams of pure emotion whilst ungraciously raising two fingers to the French major label system that has so often closeted his real talent in the past. What I got was more like Mediterranean Smash Hits Vol 36, featuring nine songs of sun-kissed crooning, flecked with the occasional scuttling oud (lute), booming bendir drum or wayward Bellemou Messaoud-style trumpet – just to remind you that Faudel is actually of Algerian, rather than Spanish, Greek or Lebanese origin. Without those sonic markers, this disco fodder could have come from anywhere in the Mediterranean. Sure, Faudel is trying to pay tribute to some of the greats of Algerian rai and Arab-Andalusian music, such as Cheb Hasni and Salim Halali, whose songs he covers. In fact, all the songs on Bled Memory are covers, though in the case of Raina Rai's classic ‘Zina’ or the traditional ‘Sidi Boumedienne’, ‘massacres’ would be a better word. This was an opportunity to fulfil the burning youthful promise of his first album, Baida, and give rai the electro– shock treatment it so desperately needs. Instead, it's a marketing exercise bereft of ideas, with all grit, dirt, inspiration and fire airbrushed into the Mediterranean wide blue yonder.