I can't imagine what it would be like to live in a war-torn land. I imagine Iraq as it is at this moment: a world where people are afraid to leave their houses, where food and clean water are scarce, and where the people with any money at all have scuttled across the borders to find refuge in other countries. These images are far from tangible to me, because I'm separated by more than miles. I'm separated from the experiences of refugees by all of the things that make my world comfortable, and that allow me to blog, right here, about music.
One of the most remarkable things I've learned while reading about world music, is that all truly creative people will make their music in the circumstances described above. As bombs fall in their backyards, musicians continue to play. They create in the midst of unbearable destruction. It's really a beautiful thought, like the titular image in "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn": the beautiful, strong tree growing in the midst of poverty and depression. The tree grows where no other tree can, and it grows strong without care and cultivation. It's just another reminder that beautiful things don't just grow in the dirt, they grow because of the dirt. Despite the fact that I cannot understand living in a war-torn country, I can understand the music that comes from such a world. The one thing I really can't imagine, is a world without music.
When you feel like roaming the desert for forty years, try listening to this music. I guarantee that you won't have a tan when you're finished, but you also won't be unbearably thirsty.
"Matadjem Yinmixen" by Tinariwen
"Habibi Min Zaman" by Balkan Beat Box
"Cheik Omar Bah" by Toumani Diabate
"Char Chinari Bazaar" by Rahul Sharma
"Until We Burn In The Sun (The Kids Just Want A Love Song)" by Bedouin Soundclash
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