Encounters have always been central to Seffarine’s music. Made up of Moroccan singer Lamiae Naki, who also has roots in West Africa, and Nat Hulskamp, who performs flamenco guitar and oud as well as taking on composing duties, this is a group that understands musical innovation as emerging from intercultural contact, and better for it. New album Abaraz foregrounds this belief.
Named for a much-visited crossroads space in Morocco, it features artists and sounds that underscore vast cultural networks of people and practices. Produced largely as a result of an artistic residency Seffarine held in Morocco, the album’s seamless combination of musical styles from West Africa, North Africa, and Andalusia serve as a warm reminder of the vast diversity long inherent in Saharan and Mediterranean spaces. It is truly lovely.
Opening track “Ah Ya Liyyam” roots us in the Amazigh culture present in North Africa since at least the Stone Age, a very reasonable place for us to start. The gentle strumming of Hulskamp’s guitar over rolling handclaps immediately brings to mind the recognizable guitar work of so many internationally renowned artists across the Sahara. Naki’s silvery voice adds to the piece’s earthy tenderness. West African djeli ngoni (courtesy of Daouda Mangara) and North African percussion instruments (Aziz Ozouss, Hecham Jaa, and Sofian Jaa on Gnawa qraqeb; Yahya Guenni on darbuka and bendir; Rachid Berazougui on calabash) build from this base. This is roots music at its richest.
As the album unfolds, its palette quickly becomes vibrant and varied. On guitar, Hulskamp and Pau Figueres lead us into a flamenco-toned reverie on “Shahal Min Merrah” as Naki sings in melismatic Moroccan Arabic, a stunning demonstration of Andalusian exchanges. This combination recurs throughout the album. “Al Qithara” features Latin Grammy winner Antonio Rey’s fiery strings alongside Hulskamp. The flourishes that open “Entaha” quickly build into energetic swaying. More pensive classical guitar defines the soft contours of “Moshattatoun” and gives Naki space to shift into fado-adjacent articulations, giving the piece a beautifully shadowy, smoky flavor.
Elsewhere, the continued interweaving of sounds from western and northern Africa creates truly luscious moments of communion. “Ma Bqali Hal” puts Mangara’s ngoni at the forefront alongside Hulskamp on both guitar and oud and features some of Naki’s most blissful work. Later, the entrancing “Jitu Lina”, perhaps the record’s most driving track, brings Blaise Traore in on the larger kamale ngoni; his solo is awe-inspiring in its nimbleness.
The album ends with “Yeddiha”, a culmination of many Maghrebi influences that still feels new and entirely its own. Naki is at her most dynamic, supported by a chorus (Houda Moukiza, Hanane Madan, and Aziz Ozouss) as she lets loose with a final burst of energy. The ensemble of oud, guitars, bass, darbuka, bendir, and qraqeb is especially tight. It is a perfect closing, exemplifying what Seffarine does best. This group are truly dedicated to collaboration. Abaraz exemplifies them putting this laudable ethos into practice.