Except from Rachid Taha, who allowed himself a few forays into the teeming, vibrant heaths of techno, no raï singer other than Cheb Malik has ever ventured into this terrain known for its abundance of sound. If you know about Malik Adouane's ancestry, this is hardly surprising. Born in Librecourt, near Lens, he comes from a union between an Italo-Celtic mother who instilled Western sounds into his ears and a father, a former miner born in Biskra (north-east Algeria), a palm grove near the desert, musically renowned for its lively diwan that could be called Saharan opera. In addition, the town is renowned for its chakhchouka, a dish called after its rich blend of various ingredients and spices. Just like Malik’s music, as he was a fan of James Brown, Barry White, classical Arabic and raï music. He had been thinking about it from the beginning, but the dream took a long time to materialize.
In January 1986, many raï idols turned up in Bobigny, France, for a historic and seminal festival. In the midst of the audience, the young man, dressed in black leather, provided security for the concerts of many stars before becoming one himself. He would rub his eyes, not because he was dazzled, but because they were clouded by a nostalgia that remained him of itself. So, with his head full of sounds warmly recommended by the best DJs, he set out, a little provocatively, to position himself at the cutting edge of music with a new concept called "After raï". It combined the sweet and precious past with an almost uncontrollable creative audacity. It's a balm made in a test-tube-studio from a mix of Arabic melodies and lyrics - a kind of "Arabeat", and the arrogant modernity produced by samplers, electronic spinning, roaring bass and guitars made for house music. The pinnacle of the record is a masterful cover of Isaac Hayes' Shaft, which set dancefloors on fire in Paris, London, Ibiza and New York, and became internationally known thanks to its presence on a Paris Dernière compilation curated by French musician and DJ Béatrice Ardisson along with Claude Challe's iconic Buddha Bar series. Now, shall we dance?
