Womad festival at Pukekura Park, New Plymouth

By GRAHAM REID

After two culturally successful but financially embarrassing Womad festivals in Auckland, New Plymouth courageously picked up this multinational celebration of music.

From today accountants' calculators will be clicking - it looked to have the numbers - but by any other measure it was exceptionally successful.

Pukekura Park, with the natural amphitheatre of the Bowl of Brooklands as it centrepiece and other concert sites in glades, allowed for thousands to wander easily between adjacent performance areas through restful woodlands and areas set aside for food stalls and people selling strange Gandalf-type hats made of seed pods which became alarmingly popular over the weekend.

A cool midnight is not the best time to see a performance but the yearning and thrilling vocals of the Sufi devotional group Rizwan-MuazzamQawwali on Friday, and the duelling sarods of Amjad Ali Khan and his sons on Saturday were entrancing.

When paired with the dance beats of Temple of Sound on Saturday afternoon, however, the qawwali singers seemed constrained and swamped by the beats.

Senegal's Cheikh Lo - serpentine dreads and an amazing technicolour dreamcoat - drew a huge, appreciative crowd for his blend of West African and Cuban sounds.

He knew as much Maori as English - a delighted "kia ora" occasionally - and it's a safe bet few among the 2000-plus understood a word he sang.

But his powerful voice and a traditional drummer, who not only made his instrument talk but carry on an intelligent conversation, transcended the language barrier.

The same couldn't quite be said for Mexico's vigorous 10-piece Los de Abajo who drew numerous strands of traditional music together with rock and ska.

Their political agenda and rap was lost in the language although they compensated with an energetic set which, as with most of the internationals, had people on their feet baying for more.

Of the New Zealand contingent, Wai offered electrifying trance-like electro-waiata with poi and patu delivered with a techno-thump that sent some older punters fleeing but drew as many to their feet.

Che Fu and the Krates' well-received Saturday showing was an odd hip-hop soul funk review with ADD which jumped from snatches of "We come from a land down under" to "Shake your money maker" and the usual call-response.

Fat Freddy's Drop proved the durability of improvised dub reggae with classic ska horns which brought out the interpretive dancers and face-painted guys blowing bubbles, and Trinity Roots delivered a languid hour of soaring, melodic vocals.

Guitarist Billy TK and the One World Peace Band were meandering if internationally inclusive - it included a brief showing by an in-form Emma Paki - but brought the spirit of early 70s Jumping Sundays in Albert Park to Taranaki.

Playing Santana to a Cuban singer, Balinese dancer and Paki's acoustic folk, the guitarist suitably closed with a homage to Carlos (who plays the Bowl on Friday).

And in this multi-national context the precision poi and chanting of Waihirere and the Taranaki whanau was exciting and, equally impressive as always, was Te Vaka who brought bright Pacific sounds, finely realised songs and professional choreography to the huge crowd.

Of the acts on smaller stages, digeridoo player Mark Atkins offered eerie sounds and story-telling with evocative guitar ambience.

Ethereal Irish singer Cara Dillon doubled her audience for her second set of soaring folk, as did the duo of American guitarist Bob Brozman and Takashi Hirayasu who took Okinawan folk songs into swing, boogie blues, psychedelic punk and pop.

With so much to see it was possible to miss acts like these unless tipped off to them.

Scotland's Shooglenifty didn't spark as on previous showings and Australia's Bloody Marys' close-harmony folk miserablism seemed at odds with the otherwise celebratory mood.

But Taranaki's Womad was an undeniable success: the venue is ideal, performances ran to time and under colourful flags of no national identification thousands enjoyed the collective spirit of the occasion.

If there was a theme from the stage - aside from fusions of western technology and traditional sounds - it was of peace. Iraq seemed all too close even though far away.

As Brozman said, if musicians could run the world for one month a year they could solve the problems created by politicians in the other 11.

When Cheikh Lo soared, Ernest Ranglin played smile-inducing jazz-reggae, and the Algeria rai'n'roll of Rachid Taha punctuated the clear air ofTaranaki, you wanted to believe it.

Music is the only international language we have, and you don't have to speak it to understand what's being said.