But our goal was Jao’s
Pub, where we have a gig at the end of the month. As chairs were found for our
group on the terrace next to the sizzling barbecue, I peaked inside the club. I
saw a nice, large table-filled space augmented by a mezzanine above. Looking
towards the dance floor and the band onstage who should I spy but our drummer,
Jimmy.
By chance or design
Monique was sitting in the prime position near the club entrance. This made it
easy for arriving musicians to pay court to her (not too strong a phrase).
Among them was the club’s proprietor, Jaojoby, the best-known Malagasy musician
in the outside world.
I ordered a large cool
bottle of Three Horses Beer, my first of the trip, with which I washed down
beef and chicken brochettes doused in fiery sakay sauce. From time to time I
stood up for the required handshake-plus-three-air-kiss greeting, as I was
introduced to yet someone else whose name I promptly forgot.
* * *
Through the walls of
the club I could hear the band, prompting musings which took up most of my
attention. They played what to me was a strangely heterogeneous repertoire.
Most interesting was the incessantly driving, triplet-based salegy from the
north of the island. This was augmented by Bob Marley (of course), American
R&B, and saccharine French pop.
Strangest of all was when I heard a quite credible version of Louis Armstrong singing Mack the Knife. This, it turned out, was Jaojoby. When I expressed surprise I was informed that long before he hit the World Music big time, Jao was famous in Madagascar as a radio DJ and performer of American popular music. So much for my notions of cultural authenticity.
Strangest of all was when I heard a quite credible version of Louis Armstrong singing Mack the Knife. This, it turned out, was Jaojoby. When I expressed surprise I was informed that long before he hit the World Music big time, Jao was famous in Madagascar as a radio DJ and performer of American popular music. So much for my notions of cultural authenticity.
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