Smaa Smaa

Hasna El Becharia is the most famous living, breathing exponent of Algerian Gnawa, that raw and rolling Afro-Berber trance music more commonly found over the border in Morocco. Her uniqueness lies in the fact that she's not just a female Gnawi, but a Gnawi musician to boot. Women do have a role in most Gnawa rituals, but as healers and dancers rather than singers or instrumentalists. Hasna El Becharia is also by all accounts a lady of defiant mettle and indomitable spirit who has been doing battle with petty religious laws and officialdom in her native city of Bechar on behalf of the oppressed for many decades.

If you're looking for lithe and precise vocal acrobatics, Hasna El Becharia isn't your woman. She produces a wavering, off–kilter moan that vibrates with the hoarse toughness of a survivor. Whatever her voice lacks in politesse is made up for in terms of honesty; hers is an artistry acquired with blood, sweat, tears and hard–nosed courage. The booming pluck of the gimbri, the emblematic Gnawa lute, propels the songs, aided by call–and– response vocals and clattering krakesh, or metal castanets.

Apart from the odd floating clarinet or timid guitar lick, the formula is pretty much textbook song–based Gnawa music, rendered more attractive by El Becharia's keen ear for a good tune or riff, and the Algerian tendency to turn down the repetitive trance element in favour of melodies. Two songs, ‘Khawa’ and ‘Rabi–lik’, stand out for their growling moodiness. Not a seismic album, certainly, but it’s another credible and enjoyable way–marker in Hasna’s hard–lived life.