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I took some time to reflect before embarking on this WOMAD 2010 (Friday only) review. Granted that time, was taken up reading my review from last year which spent an inordinate amount of time discussing the well-known and broadly acknowledged ‘hit and miss’ nature of any WOMAD line-up. Well this Friday, this claim couldn’t have been further from the truth. The Friday session always straddles the line between satisfying and too short. If the music is top notch though, this line fades and you’re left with a gelatinous, warm fuzzy feeling just as likely to result from smacked out beauty as it to originate from overly rambunctious dancing. There was a little from column A and a ridiculous amount from column B this time around. A little different to my previous experiences, but when you traverse the high-wire from Spanish horns and bouncing guitars to Zappaian-fusion-afro-funk to the cream of Jamaican ska, you don’t have much of a choice; you dance,… like a nutter. Finish it off with UNESCO certified Azerbaijani mugham music (that’s the official guide’s take, my take would probably include the word mesmerizing) and you’ve got a quality WOMAD night session.

Now extended to four days, an expected 80,000 people will be privy to the not-so-secret world stylings of Adelaide’s most prestigious musical festival. There is some indication that the line-up is better than before but then again it is being stretched one more day. As a man who has never bought a 3-day pass in the past (but has many a time spent three days there) the 4-day prospect scares me, especially if one lets themselves bow to the pressure of trying to find another one of WOMAD’s unknown gems that you never knew about until your swept up in their flow. With a bit of judicious decision making and some flexible rules this can be successfully avoided. Especially, if the schedule has some obvious standouts. That’s what Friday’s schedule delivered.

As is always the case, I walked into WOMAD with something out there, something thunderous, something ear-catching crashing along in the background. On this occasion it was YAMATO, the Drummers of Japan. They’ve been here before, and yet again they’re almost agricultural, somewhat playful but always perfectly choreographed take on mass drumming was well populated by punters and deservedly so. If you can live through 50 minutes of straight drumming your well, probably a drummer, but these guys don’t ask you to be drummer. They bounce around like a refined, Richard Simmons prime-time, exercise-off, yet have far better rhythm and mind-blowing propulsion. If it wasn’t for their bright costumes and obscene energy, they’d probably be boring, but they’re a well-constructed package and I’d urge everyone to check out anything falling under the banner of ‘music of physique’.

Next stop was Stage 3, undoubtedly the best set-up for a stage with the best Botanic Park has to offer. It’s protected from the sound-spill of other stages, it’s got an auditorium of trees thing going on and somehow has unexplained acoustic qualities that bands melt for. This was a perfect choice for the highly refined, smooth and thoughtful excursions of mostly Arizona natives Calexico. They’re critical acclaim is well known and their ability to spillover across all genre’s especially those of the Spanish or Mexican bent is renowned. They’re a perfect ‘white crossover act’ that WOMAD throws in every now and then. And WOW they’re much more amazing than a Cat Empire or a Blue King Brown. These guys aren’t just fun they’re extraordinarily intelligent. If you see them as a collection of awesome musicians sharing beautifully bleating trumpet solo’s, motoring along to acoustic reveries, dazzling us with fist up drumming of the highest caliber and mashing together obtuse guitar licks your missing the point. It’s all brought together by the Technicolor vision and all-encompassing hunger of lead auteur, Joey Burns. His vision of post-rock, world music and pitch perfect songwriting came across perfectly on this occasion and the power of the songs and the quality of the musicianship simply gelled.

Calexico, having played for an hour, left us with little time to make tracks and see whatever was next up in our truncated WOMAD experience. In fact it gave me opportunity to remember the tight scheduling of WOMAD and why stages are so spread out. It has its positives and its negatives, but if you’re hungry for music and willing to walk with a brisk pace it’s rewarding. Anyway not knowing who I’d be seeing next, only knowing that it was someone from the legendary Ethiopiques compilations, stage 1 was the next stop for what was pot luck as to who it was but a solid guarantee of qulity. It was to be Mahmoud Ahmed with a 10-piece band. This was lucking-out of the highest order. He’s an Ehtiopian legend whose recorded output is near impossible to find (unless its on the aforementioned compilations). Therefore a live opportunity is a soulful experience. Concentrating on the dance it left afro-beat and its connotations behind and went head-first into the divergent styles of North-Africa funk and the best of pure jazz-fusion. At any point you could of sworn Chick Corea was playing with Frank Zappa kith some of the more ambitious members of Afrika 70, minus Fela Kuti. This is where the dancing reared its sexy head and the crowd bumped and swayed in an Ethiopian swoon. Everyone was jiving, living it up, even if some of the beats and the rhythms were impossible. It was just good times. A nice little mix of danceable funk-town, a little bit of aural challenge and rhythms Ethiopiques has thankfully let the world hear. I would be bereft in not mentioning the rain so I will. It slightly poured for a few minutes during one of the bouncier, more rhythmically rudimentary numbers and it caused about a 20% exodus. Fools. If they’d stuck around they would of realised the rain was perfect, the weather was warm and the music, well made any downer irrelevant.

The next hour was a bit of a shambles. We headed off to Speaker’s Corner (miles away) to see the physical, electronic, light-show wizardry (well that’s what I was told it would be) of Ray Lee’s “Siren”. On speaking to an androgynous and seemingly depressed security guard escorting some brave young kids out of WOMAD, we heard the rain had forced its cancellation. Depressed but releaved that we’d get time to get a good posie for The Skatalites, it was taken on the chin and made me more than tempted to find some way to come back to WOMAD this weekend.

So back to Stage one again for Jamaica’s seminal Ska pioneers The Skatalites. These guys are an institution and while much of their music has consciously passed me by in my Jamaican music sabbaticals, almost every riff rang familiar. I was shocked that near every blow of the horn seemed to bring back a memory, refer to a blueprint of something I thought I knew but never did. And the skanking, in the crowd and on stage was top notch, maybe not for style or attractiveness but for enthusiasm and vibrancy the dancing scored highly. This was probably assisted by the pre-requisite, Jamaican music at WOMAD ‘joint’ that seemed to be being passed around at many a different points in the crowd. It was a vibe, it was party-times. To call them a ska band is limiting, their comeback work has run the gamut of Jamaican classicism; from ska, to rock steady to reggae. They can play it all. Top-grade.

As is WOMAD’s whim at this point in the night, (about 11.30) you’ve got two choices really. You can go to the Speaker’s Corner and get some DJ (usually quite talented and always eclectic) pumpin the beats till the early hours or you can recover\indulge in a highly traditional brand of music that requires silence if not concentration to appreciate its subtleties. On this occasion it was to be the later, Azerbaijan’s Gochag Askarov who as I previously mentioned is UNESCO classified. I won’t say he blew my mind as I did doze serenely during the second half of their gig but Gochag and his band were the perfect counter-point to my so far physical WOMAD. His voice is quite beautiful but the melodies were equally as haunting. He was no true focal point as his band were able to weave power from restraint. They may be the band of the night that I have the least say about, but that is most likely because of my lack of reference point or context. All I know is at midnight they were mesmerising.

So I’ll wrap it up quick as you might be going to WOMAD today or tomorrow and haven’t got time to truly indulge in this first minor review installment. I can’t speak too highly of the festival, and this year the acts seem to live up to its reputation. I saw a bit of everything across only 4 maybe 5 gigs and I’ve got the taste. Hope to see ya there.

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