Cult-cha

Before we left, LA, we loaded up our iPods with our entire CD collection, so we’ve not been at a loss for music while in Morocco. However, except for the Gnawa Music Festival in Essaouira this June, we’ve not seen any live music. Okay, we did hear a few classical guitarists one night at a restaurant in Gueliz, but it was a long time ago. We’ve been a bit starved for the excitement and energy that accompanies a live performance. There’s something about sitting with a crowd of strangers witnessing artists at work on stage. Fortunately, Marrakech’s fall season is bringing with it a welcome dose of cult-cha. While the Marrakech Film Festival, which takes place in early December, is the highlight affair, leading up to it, we’re excited to find some musical events and even a Fulbright Conference.

Last night, we went to the Eglise de Marrakech in Gueliz, the city’s only Christian church, for a concert to benefit the restoration of the church’s organ. Of the mind that organs are, for the most part, better left defunct, i.e., they always look much nicer than they sound, we are wary about the contribution, but happy to support this first public concert. On the program are pieces by Handel, Mozart, Verdi and Strauss and guest appearances by a Spanish soprano, Valeria Florencio, and the first violinist of the Avignon Opera, Cordelia Palm. The violinist is quite sublime, standing above us in the organ’s nave, wearing a black strapless gown. Her bow dances across the strings, filling the room with emotive notes; it’s incredible the expressive power that a single instrument can wield.

But when the African Students Choir of Marrakech took the stage midway through the concert, we thrilled at the power of 20 clear, young voices. The group was lead by a lionine student conductor, who directed with graceful undulations of his body and arms and muscular pounce-like punches; at one point, he twirled around to face the audience and sang out himself, something we'd never witnessed from a conductor. The group opened with a fresh interpretation of a Bach classic, and followed with a tam-tam piece, or more typical African drum-led music. We were sorry to see them parade out in their blue and white robes after just two short numbers. The choir performs regularly at the church and we might consider going back to see them again.

The Eglise is a non-descript concrete place that was built in the 20s, and when we arrived, just ten minutes before the concert was meant to begin, we were sorry to see the audience pews largely empty, just a few couples and groups scattered on either side of the aisle. By the time the performers took to the “stage,” the room had filled up, mostly with older European couples. There was a whisper of excitement as the city’s major walked in with his suited retinue. They took seats in the far rear, which might have been for security or privacy, or merely to save the mayor from craning his neck to see the performance as those of us sitting closer endured. Some commented that it was significant to have the mayor attend a performance in a Christian church. As Samuel pointed out, he’s mayor of the whole city, even it’s small Christian population, and in our minds, it would have seemed more significant for him to stay away.

Spilling out of the church after the concert, we were greeted by warm, orange blossom-fragranced air. Not bad for our first night of Marrakech cult-cha. Next up, an evening of Beethoven with the Morocco Philharmonic on Saturday.