WOMAD: Cultural communion more than just marketing

Throngs of WOMAD attendees. Photo / Michael Flynn

Tears welled up in the eyes of Christopher Blenkinsop, founder and leader of German group 17 Hippies, as he told media of exchanging hongi in the powhiri welcoming him to New Zealand.

"I'm shaking. At first I thought we would just rub noses with a few people... then I realised we would rub noses with lots of people."

It's a reminder the cultural communion advertised by the WOMAD festival is more than just marketing. An hour later Blekinsop would open one of the most frenetic shows of the weekend with the words "We will rub noses with all of you". His rag-tag 12-piece of accordions, banjos and brass delivered on that promise with a whirlwind set of folk songs that borrowed everything from French chanson to Eastern European dirges.

17 Hippies formed in 1995 out of a desire to fill the almost barren German folk scene. It had been buried since World War II, as generations which saw folk as the music of the Nazi Party rebelled against it. Blekinsop helped revive the style with a series of free shows at an abandoned building he and his musicians "squatted" in. They have created a kind of new folk by collecting easy-to-play sounds from around the world and incorporating them into songs with unbridled enthusiasm.

Contrast that with Pakistan's Faiz Ali Faiz, a master of the impressive and often beautiful qawwali singing. His credentials are impressive. Faiz is a descendent of seven generations of qawwali singers and a true defender of the "deep devotional core" of traditional qawwali. An afternoon workshop by the artist explored and explained the northern Indian and Sufi devotional music he trained in before launching his career in 1978. Apparently much of the Sufi music he sings can be talking about both romantic or divine love (I have given my heart to my beloved/I can't take it back/I want this relationship to go on). The seminar takes a turn when a questioner, intrigued by the artist's all male band, asks whether women can sing qawwali. Well, sort of. The band's promoter explains the art requires a "powerful set of lungs" and most women aren't up to it.

I think Tanya Tagaq would disagree. The Inuit throat singer delivered the most strange and brilliant set of the weekend from the lakeside Dell Stage as darkness fell. Her set interspersed an indescribable drone with high screams and yelps. At times she would mimic an animal roar and at others, a baby crying. Performing the full hour without taking a break - or, it seemed, a breath - Tagaq leaped between raw emotions. She was sensual, then sad, then anguished, then angry. Two musicians whose art she had "no knowledge of" looped the strange sounds emitting from her throat through pedals and complemented it with violin. But the voice was always centre stage, both unsettling and uniquely compelling.

It was sad to see that followed by one of the least original sets of the weekend. Australia's The Cat Empire have popularity and longevity - with "multi-platinum albums" and "number one debuts". They have a brass section that hits incredible heights with ease. What they don't have are truly interesting songs, or the soaring melodies needed to inject life into standard chord progressions. It wasn't bad - but it wasn't the great headline set needed at the end of an impressive day. As they said "music is the language of us all", and theirs just didn't communicate. I fell asleep after their set during a (really good) documentary on the life work of Canadian scientist David Suzuki. It could easily have happened an hour earlier.