The Orchestre Chaâbi de Montréal: the voice of the people that resonates
On Friday evening, the sun is slowly setting on the horizon. It is 9 pm, the stores are closing their doors. Friends gather in restaurants and cafes to celebrate the weekend. Meanwhile, in the premises of the Saint Michel Youth Forum, a miracle is being prepared. The creaky door opens, a chaabi symphony is heard on the stairs. Here, Algiers resonates. Here, Algiers lives. The notes, like heartbreaking complaints, evoke nostalgic beauty.
La Converse intruded into the privacy of Orchestre Chaâbi de Montréal (OCM) during its rehearsals, backstage discussions and shows, in order to better understand this particular devotion that pushes 20 people to meet every week. The word “chaâbi”, which refers to a real musical jewel from Algiers, comes from the Arabic word Chaab, which means “people”. Chaabi is therefore linked to the concept of “popular” in Arabic.
“A duty that we do with pleasure”
In the cafés of Little Maghreb, in Montreal, informal meetings take place between fervent fans of chaâbi and Algerian music. Ali Idres, a 27-year-old Algerian and OCM spokesperson, explains the following to us: “Regulars, artists and music lovers knew that Friday evening at the Oasis Café, it was a chaabi evening. So we band together with our instruments and our songs, and we all play together. It is a way to forget the exile and to rediscover, even for a moment, the scent of the village [of the native country].”
Within the walls of these cafés, history is forged, carried by passionate souls, including that of Mourad Taleb, a former maestro, accompanied by Nassim Gadouch and Lamine Djanki, who came up with the idea of creating a non-profit chaâbi orchestra. The aim is to celebrate North African diversity, with particular attention paid to Algeria. “We want to bring the community together,” explains Sofiane Benyahia, president of the OCM.
Since 2017, the twenty musicians and choristers of the Orchestre Chaâbi de Montréal have been meeting every Friday evening. From 9 p.m. to midnight, time is running out. Musicians abandon themselves to musical alchemy and strive to perfect their art.
Karima Bougherara, one of the choristers, has lived in Quebec since 2007. She underlines the importance of promoting Algerian music in the Quebec artistic landscape. “It is essential that we be seen at our fair value. We have a history, a culture, a wealth. We're not just immigrants who came here to work; we also have knowledge,” says the former artist's agent. She adds: “The media never represent Algeria from this angle, they do not show that we are happy, creative and sensitive beings. They talk about us as a country marked by civil war and violence.”
At the OCM, she fulfills what she considers to be a “duty.” “And I do it out of pleasure, the pleasure of sharing this music, (...) especially with young people, especially those in the diaspora who do not have easy access to it.” Sofiane adds: “When our children go to school, they don't learn their history, their language, or their culture. When my children ask me, “Dad, what is the Algerian War? Why are we here?” It's killing me, it's tearing my heart out! ”
Redouane, also a father of a family, is of the same opinion. “Through chaâbi, we want to encourage young people to learn their language, the heart that makes culture beat.” He even created a music school to mitigate the effects of cultural uprooting among young people of Algerian origin. “His initiative is valuable. I did not experience this growing up in Canada. Having a place where your native language is spoken, where your customs are appreciated and your history valued is vital for self-construction,” comments Ali.
“The chaâbi lives in us”
Lamine Djanki, nicknamed “The Encyclopedia” by his companions at the OCM, plunges us into the heart of the history of chaabi. “Chaabi is the fruit of the fusion of scholarly music. Arab-Andalusian And of Melhoun, the bearer of Maghreb dialectal poetry,” he explains. The subjects covered by chaâbi are fundamental shared experiences: friendship and love, for example.
This “music of the people” came to fill a void: “In the 19th century, Arab-Andalusian classical music, such as Nuba, reigned supreme in the royal courts and was reserved for an enlightened elite. Its theoretical complexity and the use of literary Arabic made it inaccessible to the vast majority of the people. There was also Medh, that is to say songs of praise of a religious and spiritual nature. These musical genres seemed either too hermetic or too solemn, lacking the rhythm and pace that could have evoked the common experiences and profound experiences of the people,” explains Lamine.
Over time, the sheikhs (musical masters) and their followers dared to innovate and revolutionized the Algerian musical landscape. The one who has changed the course of the country's music history is undeniably El Hadj M'Hamed El Anka, adds the musician.
El Anka, born in 1907, is a key figure in Algerian music. This sound alchemist drew his inspiration from the artistic currents that irrigate Algerian musical life, immersing himself in songs of praise in Tamazight,Achewiq Kabyle and the mesmerizing melodies of Malouf Constantinois. “He even innovated in terms of classical orchestration, transforming the guitar into a mandolin, exchanging the oud (lute) for the banjo-guitar and substituting the viola for the kamanja (Arabic violin)”, marvels our interlocutor.
“The history of chaâbi is a chain, a continuity. It is transmitted from Sheikh to Sheikh, from master to master,” adds Lamine, forming a ring with his fingers, a symbol of this transmission. In fact, we learn without partitions; and everything is based on oral transmission. “Everything is transmitted by ear, everything is preserved in memory. The chaabi is alive. It lives in us. Memory plays an essential role, both historically and technically, musically,” Ali says with emotion.
This invisible thread, which weaves the history of chaâbi, can be found all the way to Montreal. While Redouane expertly leads the orchestra, Lamine shares the following with pride: “Our artistic director, Redouane, is a true prodigy of Algerian music. He joined the Algerian Symphony Orchestra at the age of six, showing his exceptional talent at an early age.” Lamine then adds: “Redouane is the only one with a formal background in music. He was trained by Abdeslam Darouache, a direct disciple of the illustrious Hadj El Anka himself! It's time for the break; the musicians briefly escape to stretch their tired legs and enjoy mint tea and delicious Algerian cakes that melt in your mouth.
Ali, Sofiane and Redouane testify to Lamine's humility and praise his essential role as guardian of the history of Chaabi. “He is an undisputed reference of Chaabi, here as in Algeria. It embodies a living memory,” says Ali. In an art where words are not fixed on paper, Lamine indeed applies herself with disconcerting precision and passion to authenticate the lyrics and to give life to this timeless music.
Humility is a virtue that is deeply rooted in this musical fraternity. Here, no one praises their own merits, but everyone is ready to praise the merits of their comrades abundantly.
“[Exile] was just a song, now it's my life”
It is at the École Ladjrafi Musique d'Algérie et Arts (ELMAA), located in Montreal in the Saint-Léonard district, that we meet members of the OCM for the second time.
We enter a room with walls decorated with Zellige, a set of meticulously crafted Maghreb ornamental mosaics. An oriental carpet unfurls its colors under lanterns with golden arabesques. Two hanging paintings represent a Fantasia, a Maghreb equestrian tradition.
Mohamed Zikara, a young man of 33, grabs his guitar and mandola to offer us a Istikhbar, a musical improvisation. ” I went through your doors without a plan, just to see you, or to see the one who once saw you. Passion quenched my thirst with a glass of pure love. May this same passion quench your thirst."*
Redouane, Sofiane, Mohamed and Ali are talking around a table filled with Griwech with honey, a traditional pastry. These four men took a different migration path, but an experience of immigration united them: that of exile..
As a teenager, Ali felt attracted to Algerian music. “It was this feeling of exile (...) that pushed me to reconnect with my community. I find myself again 15 years later, on stage, alongside great musicians who have become my friends”, he is moved.
Mohamed continues: “I came across the Chaâbi Orchestra video by chance. I told myself that I had to do everything I could to join this team,” he said with a happy laugh. In fact, it was one of the main reasons why I moved from Gatineau to Montreal.”
The freshman from Montreal continues: “For me, the difference between playing chaâbi in Montreal and in Algiers is that now I am living the words. Chaabi often addresses the theme of exile, but before, I sang without really understanding this homesickness. Now we really feel the words, we understand them. We are carried by this feeling of nostalgia, because we are so far away from our country, and this distance only increases with time.”
Sofiane adds: “I remember when I was young, I sang”Ya rayah” (O you who are leaving) without really dwelling on its depth. We said among ourselves that it was a song for emigrants. But now we are in the bath, we are the Rayah, the ones who left. It used to be just a song, but now it's about my own life.”
“When we share these kinds of music with the public and thousands of spectators sing the chorus with us, it's the feeling of Saudade [who is expressed], the blues, the spleen, this indescribable feeling that touches every sensitive soul,” says Alilou.
For Reedouane, the scene allows him to recharge his batteries. His friend Sofiane even calls it a form of therapy. “Instead of consulting, we take our instruments and sing. Whether with friends, in the orchestra or in front of an audience, this feeling is powerful and liberating.”
In exile, in this situation where we find ourselves between two worlds, music becomes a universal language. It transcends borders and soothes torments. It offers refuge, self-expression, and connection with others.
” Ya Rayah ”
On June 22, 2023, Les Jardins Gamelin were transformed into a historical capsule. On this dance floor, time seems to stand still, and the contagious energy of chaâbi takes all the spectators into a joyful transe. The faces light up, the smiles widen, the atmosphere becomes electric. The virtuosity of the musicians is expressed in each note.
The music intensifies, the audience is carried away by the enchanting pace. Graceful gestures and rhythmic steps intertwine. Eyes meet, hands reach out to invite new partners to join the dance. The youyous, screams of joy and excitement, resound in the air, adding a touch of euphoria and celebration.
Rachid, a 42 year-old Algerian, never stops dancing. Whatever the song, he knows all the lyrics. “We are here today because the OCM makes us vibrate at every show. It brings the community together, it shows our beautiful culture to this beautiful country of Canada,” he says with enthusiasm. Living here for about ten years, this Canadian citizen observes those around him and adds: “We really feel in our Houma, in our neighborhood; we feel like we are in Algiers, despite the thousands of kilometers. There was an elderly man with whom I danced; he was dressed in a typical Algerian dress called Shanghai blue. It's good for the soul.”
Generations are mixed. Grandparents, parents, and loved ones guide children through dances, languages, and sensations. Here, at the Jardins Gamelin, the dance floor becomes a space for cultural exchanges between Algerian, Maghreb and Quebec communities.
“Looking at the crowd, I realize that it's not only North Africans who benefit. There are so many other people who enjoy this music. It makes me proud to see that it resonates miles away from its cradle,” exclaims Remy. Having grown up in Quebec, he finds that the volunteer work of the OCM is necessary. “I am really happy to see so many children and young people who support the orchestra and contribute to the accomplishment of its mission,” adds the young person.
Mohamed Zikara, spiritual heir to the legendary singer El Hachemi Guerouabi, conveys with intensity all the emotion and nostalgia of the song Hello Allo — Wahdani Gharib (Allo Allo — Foreign Solitaire). Originally from Belcourt, a district of Algiers, Mohamed evokes homesickness. Her voice is tinged with Saudade. He talks about the absence of his beloved neighborhood. “Your lack is too much for me/Of Belcourt, great is the value/where I left the scent of my parents/and my loved ones and neighbors/My loved ones and my people and my neighbors.” 1 In front of him, the spectators sing” Djazaïr Zinet el Bouldan ” (Algeria the most beautiful country) to every chorus.
Then, notes of Derbouka sound and announce the start of the famous song Ya Rayah. If, in the past, spectators resisted the dance, now they are all gathered; the floor is packed. The excitement grew as the first words rang out:” O you who leave, wherever you travel, you leave, you get tired and you will end up coming back. ”
The audience, moved, sings the song in unison. The voices mingle in a powerful chorus, while screams of joy, youyous, are heard all around. The dance steps are slower and emotionally charged. The arms cling, the faces hide, tears flow.
Ya Rayah evokes the heartbreak of exile, the nostalgia for the homeland and the hope of return. The words resonate in everyone's heart, recalling memories, hopes, and dreams left behind.
Khadija, on the other hand, left Bejaia for Canada barely a year ago. “After my day at work, I came directly here with my two daughters. I feel an intense nostalgia for my country that I miss so much. Even though I don't know anyone here, in this crowd, I feel like part of a family.” For her too, the transmission of Algerian culture to her children is essential. “I don't want them to lose their culture. That's why I will continue to take them to this kind of event,” says this New Quebec woman proudly.
The OCM has created a musical communion, where each chorus is at the same time a prayer, a plea and a piece of fun. Here, it is Montreal that resonates. The concert was coming to an end, and the crowd of around 3,000 people dispersed. One thing is certain with the Orchestre Chaâbi de Montréal: “O you who are leaving, wherever you travel, you are leaving, you are getting tired and you will end up coming back.”
1 The translation, which is not literal, is more in line with the meaning of the words.