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| This is an excerpt from the print edition of Dirty Linen Magazine #99 (April / May 2002). The magazine is available on newsstands and by subscription. |
When it comes to the western appreciation of so-called world music styles, Ethiopian artists are not a group to have garnered much attention in recent memory. That is changing, however, with the growing fuss surrounding the Ethiopian vocalist Gigi, whose self-titled debut album for Palm Pictures (released last year) has elicited an impressive amount of critical praise.
The record was produced by remix wiz Bill Laswell, a musician/producer who has been a pivotal contributor to a number of world music projects as well as releasing his own albums. Gigi (her given name is Ejigayehu Shibabaw) wrote all the songs on the album. With the timely assistance of musicians such as Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Henry Threadgill, Karsh Kale, and Aïyb Dieng, Gigi and Laswell created an album that brings together world-beat, jazz, dub-reggae, and western pop influences in the service of songs sung in the ancient Amharic tongue.
Gigi benefitted from Laswell's production know-how and his eminent musical sense. His production work resulted in a tight, polished, inventive collection of tunes. On the other hand, Laswell was fortunate to work with such a terrific singer/songwriter. Gigi writes beautiful, often romantic, songs that are special even in translation. She has a lovely and agile voice, and no matter what sort of ultra-hip arrangement Laswell created, her songs never lose touch with the sounds of Ethiopia.
Gigi had already achieved a good measure of recognition before she showed up on our horizon. She scored an international hit in 1998 with the reggae tune "One Ethiopia." She also toured East and South Africa and France with a theater production based on the story of Solomon and Sheba. While in France she performed at a world music festival, to the delight of her audience.
Gigi was raised in northern Ethiopia. One of 10 children whose parents moved the family away from Addis Ababa in favor of a life on a coffee plantation, by the time she was a teenager Gigi faced a problem not unfamiliar to many aspiring musicians worldwide. "My father didn't want me to be a singer at all," Gigi explained. "He wanted me to finish school, go to university, and then probably I could do whatever I wanted to do. That's the way he thought. Even after I did the first record, he called me and said, 'Well, you've made a record. Isn't that enough?' " she laughed.
She doesn't recall this with any bitterness, however. Indeed, she allowed that her father was just acting on the basis of what he knew and understood. "He knew what I would go through," she said. "It's not really a respected profession in Ethiopia. Some people might disagree with this, but I know it's the truth. He was trying to protect me from that."
In hindsight, Gigi even allowed that it might not have been so awful to follow his advice. "I wish I had listened to him and done whatever he wanted me to do. I could still have done what I wanted to do eventually. But, you know, when you're young, you're very stubborn. You think you know everything. So I have to say to myself, 'What happened, happened.'
"I started sneaking out of the house and singing in clubs," she recalled. "I was probably caught three or four times. At one point my dad didn't talk to me for about a year, because he was so disappointed in what I was doing. My mom and dad started to argue, because my mother really supported what I was doing. She helped me write songs and encouraged me. She always got me to sing whenever guests came to the house. And my father was happy for me to sing and dance whenever we had a party. He just didn't want me to do that professionally.
"That attitude is something that exists in the Ethiopian culture," she continued. "I don't know if this is old culture or new culture, but there's something about singing, or arts in general, that Ethiopians don't respect. Yet Ethiopia has been considered a country of literature, ancient painting, beautiful poems and such. The whole culture is based on art. I don't know why we can't see that."
This is an excerpt from an article in Dirty Linen #99 (Apr./May '02). Read the full text in the magazine, available via subscription or on newsstands and in bookstores.
