The history of the future of music
Global Beat Fusion gets an upgrade
I recently edited my 2005 book, Global Beat Fusion: The History of the Future of Music. Below is the preface for the 2023 edition. I also compiled a soundtrack of artists featured in the book here.
Idan Raichel was invited to curate a concert series at the Tel Aviv Opera House in 2010. This was a great honor for the Israeli musician. While a formidable pop star in his homeland, he’d also spent years showcasing the diversity of the Jewish diaspora with his Idan Raichel Project. Raichel is a rare musician who can write catchy pop songs and hold it down with the best of world artists. The team at the opera house expected something similar to his project, with an emphasis on Judaic culture.
Raichel had a different idea. In 2008, he ran into the Malian guitar player, Vieux Farka Touré, at an airport. Touré’s father, Ali, was a huge influence on Raichel’s career; he was also a big fan of Vieux. Upon spotting the younger Touré, Raichel ran over to express his appreciation. Touré laughed, thinking Raichel a “crazy hippie,” with his baggy pants and dreadlocks. Yet they became friends, and Raichel promised that they’d work together some day.
That day came at the Tel Aviv Opera House. A minor controversy ensued when Raichel announced this collaboration, given that Touré is Muslim. Fortunately, there were no signs of malice during the show; all bickering was expressed leading up to the event. Raichel ignored it. His career was built on exploring the world’s musical traditions, which meant appreciating the planet’s diverse cultures. He wasn’t going to let cultural biases get in the way of an amazing opportunity.
That unforgettable evening led to the creation of two albums. The first was recorded the day after the concert in Tel Aviv. A three-hour jam session was cut down to a brilliant 63-minute album, which was released in 2012. The second record was supposed to be recorded in Mali, but that changed when music was banned by Islamists. That’s not a typo: any music, anywhere, outlawed. Islamist rebel groups threatened to cut the hands off of defectors. Like many Malian artists, Touré fled to Paris, where their second jam session turned into a sparse, gorgeous 2014 release.
I’ve been playing these albums a lot lately. On one level, it’s because I love both of these artists. I also love when musicians from different cultures explore shared traditions and create new ones. That’s basically what this book is about. There’s another reason, however. I’m writing this preface to the newly edited edition of Global Beat Fusion just weeks after the Hamas terror attack on Israel, which was followed by Zionists calling for the destruction of Palestine. I’m watching young people across the world raise their voices against antisemitism, Islamophobia, and colonialism. All of this is making me reflect on what I missed when I first wrote this book.
For context, the seeds of this book were planted shortly after 9/11. Living in New York City at the time, I witnessed the events up close—not close enough to be physically affected by the falling buildings, but close enough to see them burn from the West Village. I lived in the fallout shelter at the time: the Paulus Hook section of Jersey City, directly across the Hudson River from the towers. For months I watched the pile smolder from the roof of my apartment building. Every day, I commuted into Manhattan to my job as the managing editor of the country’s largest world music magazine, where I interviewed hundreds of artists from across the planet, many of whom wanted nothing more than to share their music with the world in the hopes of making it a better place. And every night I returned home within eyesight of the most discussed terror attack in history, which was instigated in large part because the world is not the better place so many of us want it to be.
I was accustomed to the dangers of fanaticism given that my college degree was in religion. I knew full well how religious philosophy dovetails with and influences politics. I was well aware of the growing Christian nationalism inspiring organizations to train young fundamentalists to enter politics in order to pass legislation that would overturn Roe v Wade (among other goals). My idealistic 26-year-old self laughed off such a prospect, a luxury my 48-year-old self now cringes at.
And so I focused my journalistic efforts on looking at the growing movement of musicians using the computer, which I call the world’s folk instrument, to produce and share their art. I consider this movement part of the formation of a new global mythology, in the form of fresh stories (told musically) that express the desires and hopes of a more connected, more diverse world. Rereading this book two decades later, I still appreciate this phenomenon. None of that has changed. If anything, it’s only grown.
What I didn’t discuss, at least not much, is politics. I don’t want to say this book is too hopeful, as I still believe that the hundreds of artists mentioned here are striving to create a better world. I just didn’t foresee how strongly white nationalism, xenophobia, misogyny, antisemitism, and blatant racism would dominate America’s media on a daily basis. (I also didn’t foresee streaming media, which is why I talk about internet radio but not the next step in music consumption, but that’s a different story.)
It would be hard to write this book today without more of a focus on the political landscape. To be clear, there’s plenty of politics ahead: the millennia-long plight of the Romani population as they left India to influence cultures throughout Europe and the Middle East; the awesome power of protest music and its ability to affect the world; the tireless efforts by Indian and Middle Eastern musicians, who experienced massive amounts of vitriol in the years following 9/11, to share their cultures. I believed America was moving in a more caring and understanding direction, given the circles I was running in and the people I was talking to. In truth, I was thinking linearly, which is ironic given that the basis of this book, creation mythologies, are always cyclical.
That said, I’m happy to note that the “fusion” part of the book has manifested in ways that I also couldn’t have foreseen. Turns out that more diverse people procreating is creating the society envisioned in these pages. Thanks to technologies not mentioned in this book (like social media) the younger generations are more politically engaged and culturally knowledgeable than I could have ever hoped to be two decades ago.
For example, I spend a fair amount of time discussing the merging of flamenco and hip-hop through the lens of the now-defunct group, Ojos de Brujo. This collection of Spanish musicians consciously merged the two seemingly disparate art forms for years. For newer artists like Rosalia, this fusion is second nature. She doesn’t have to think about those cultures fusing because they’re both part of who she is. And she can just as easily move into reggaeton because that too is part of her worldview and culture. It’s beautiful to watch.
I’m not being ignorant about the dangers of technology. I have many complaints about social media’s effects on society. But I don’t want to overlook the enormous contributions platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook have had in helping create the very mythologies I identify in this book. The world has never had so much access to so much music (and culture) at the same time. Young people are cramming all of it into their identity and producing truly original and inventive music in ways that weren’t possible a generation ago.
The editing process this round (I updated parts of the book in 2014 for the Kindle edition) was a process of extraction. I suppose this happens to all aging writers. While I didn’t add anything, I wanted to clarify what I felt to be the most important function: capturing a movement of musicians during a pivotal time in history. With this new edition, that goal is accomplished far better than in previous editions, where I focused too much on extraneous connections that took away from what matters most: the music.
I’m happy to say that every album discussed in these pages holds up. I know, because I’ve been revisiting many albums that I’ve forgotten about since first reporting on them.
Sadly, we’ve lost a few musicians mentioned here since the first publication. India’s legendary sitarist, Ravi Shankar, died in 2012. Algerian DJ and producer Cheb i Sabbah passed away in 2013 from stage 4 stomach cancer. Malian n’goni player Issa Bagayogo died in 2016. Reggae legend Lee “Scratch” Perry passed away in 2021. All of their music lives on.
Enjoy the journey, for it never ends.
Derek Beres
Portland, OR, 11/18/23
