The Oud according to Smadj, part 1

The sound of the oud fluttered in every part of the room as if we were being drifted off to some foreign land in the Orient. Smadj, a Tunisien, living in Istanbul, dedicated these series of songs to a woman he fell in love with in Istanbul ho ended up dying. It was a great concert which brought musicians from London and Paris itself, and in two weeks will bring artists from Istanbul, Algeria and Morroco! Some songs were a reflection on belly dancing music or others that followed a tranquil beat that recalled the death of his muse. Not only was it sounds of the Orient but a mix of manipulated and computerized sounds.The drums called tablas were very intriguing each different part of the drum created a different tone and in order to be tuned it needed to be hit with a hammer.

The trumpet was ok, he often had difficulty producing a sound and one could tell that Smadj didn't appreciate that it usually happened during the important melodic lines, but was perfect during the improv. It was ironic that he nailed the lines that he didn't pratice, but failed at those that he had spent a long time on. Smadj also manipulated the sound of the trumpet with the use of his 2 macs by creating an organ sound or a flute sound, it as definitely interesting.

Samples of his music can be found at his myspace: http://www.myspace.com/jeanpierresmadj and he will also be performing next Thursday June 17 at the Festival de Saint Denis in the Basilica!

Le Marche

Today was a rare experience, I went to two different marches or markets.

My usual Sunday consists of my husband and I going to the market around 10 making the usual stops to ED (the supermarket), the butcher shop, and then taking a stroll down the main street, where there are mostly non-food vendors, before hitting up the baskets of anything your heart desires from a euro, fifty-two cent lady.

But today was not the typical Sunday, instead it was me who did all of the above alone and then returning home, to find my husband ready to go to the other market down the street. A market which was mostly consisted of Algerian Arabic household items and food supplies. I don't think I have ever seen that many arabic/turkish women in one place at one time in my life. The people were all in a hurry and if I spent one minute extra looking at the fish and deciding if I wanted to buy some, I would get angry glances and comments behind my back. Whereas if I was to do that, in my market in Drancy, never would that happen, or even in a Parisian market.

The markets are a place to meet people and where people come together either to sit at the cafes and people watch, stroll along looking at all of the useless items that no one really needs, but will end up buying because it only cost one euro, or for those who want to get in and get out, because they are not into the crowds. There are endless aisles of bread, meats, veggies and fruits in each little building of the market, alongside rows and rows of clothes from socks to suits, wallets, purses, and shoes for only a mere 5 euros. Its just the people that sometimes get in the way...but if you take your time and let the other people suck it up, the experience is bound to continue.