Interview
BEIRUT: Trumpet-player Mazen Kirbaj sits buttressed by a table full of oddities – metal bowls, a comb, a glass of water – like a small-time illusionist. Attached to the mouthpiece of his trumpet is something even more unexpected: the pipe of a narguileh. As Kirbaj begins to produce a low, propulsive hum from this set-up, spectators crouch on the floor, lean against the walls and peer past pillars from restaurant tables.
This was Tuesday’s edition of The Crate Sessions, a series of weekly concerts at the unlikely venue of Walimat Wardeh, Hamra’s cherished Lebanese eatery, where artists are invited to perform within a set of simple limitations. During a 30 to 45-minute session, musicians are given access to a dual-input amplifier – the titular “Crate” – giving the option of two instruments or one with a microphone.
“They basically will be permitted to do everything they want with the amp,” writes organizer Serge Yared in the event’s blurb, “except perhaps selling it at Souk al-Ahad [Beirut’s Sunday market].”
The concept is the brainchild of Yared, front-man of Beirut folk band The Incompetents and chief DJ at Walimat Wardeh’s perennially popular Saturday-night shindigs. It was a response to a piece of tragic news: The charming Mandate-era building that houses Walimat Wardeh is to be destroyed at the end of the year. Yared was asked to DJ for the remaining Tuesday evenings, but he wanted to try something a little more ambitious.
“We’re working in the tradition of the folk concert,” he says. “The aim is to establish direct contact between the artist and the audience. I always ask the musician to talk a little about their music before they begin their set.”
The endangered building is, for the short time that remains, the venue for some of the most innovative, intimate gigs currently playing in Beirut. So far, Tuesday-night audiences have witnessed performances from experimental guitarist Sharif Sehnaoui, Scrambled Eggs front-man Charbel Haber, improvisational pianist Vladimir Kurumilian (along with VJ Rami Essabbagh) and singer-songwriter Cristobal.
“I started off with a high-profile musician to encourage the others to get involved,” says Yared, referring to Zeid Hamdan, the underground music impresario who played the first-ever Crate Session on August 25. “Since then there’s been a healthy competition – more and more musicians wanted to take part.”
Yared scored yet another coup this Tuesday with Kirbaj, the don of the experimental music scene. Thanks to the efforts of Kirbaj and Sehnaoui, the driving forces behind Beirut’s annual “Irtijal” festival, the city has a relatively vibrant experimental field. Kirbaj plays sufficiently rarely, however, to make his concerts eagerly-awaited events.
Experimental music, or free-improvisation, is based upon the rejection of rhythm, melody, repetition and other parameters that practitioners feel constrain conventional music-making.
Without seeing the man in action, it would be almost impossible to guess that Kirbaj was playing the instrument. The array of sounds the musician conjured from his trumpet on Tuesday was a million miles from the amiable parping of a brass band.
Beginning with the noise of a rattling propeller and forceful industrial clanking, against the background of a deep hum, Kirbaj’s playing suggested some kind of monstrous, mechanical subterranean force.
Using his selection of implements, Kirbaj approximated the high whine of a saw, the squeaking of bed-springs and, by blowing sharply across the mouthpiece, the Doppler-effect of a swiftly-moving object.
A little more gentle on the ear were a series of later passages which could have been the sounds of the jungle at night. Low warbles, small screeches and a series of kissing noises suggested the imminent appearance of David Attenborough.
A series of flatulent noises began to lose audience attention, but as several people vacated the restaurant, Kirbaj took decisive action. Rising from his seat, he followed escaping audience members, blasting them close-up with a series of vertiginous squawks. Sure enough, he arrested the progress of the escapees.
“It’s the first time I’ve brought people back rather than scaring them away,” laughed Kirbaj after the show.
The venue presents some challenges for the artist. “I’m extremely honest,” says Yared. “I tell all performers that the conditions aren’t easy.” Walimat Wardeh wasn’t necessarily constructed for live music, with its many nooks and crannies, and there’s a tendency for audience members to chatter and smoke in the informal setting.
But such hardships don’t seem to have put anyone off. Almost all remaining slots are filled, with the eclectic array of upcoming artists including saxophonist Stephane Rives, “Mashrou3 Leila” members Hamed Sinno and Andre Chedid, and a group of classical musicians.
At a time when the architectural heritage of Beirut is being ploughed under the wheels of rampant real-estate development, it’s heartening to see exciting initiatives in the face of encroaching blandness.
The Crate Sessions continue next Tuesday with a set from Serge Yared and Fadi Tabbal of The Incompetents. For reservations, call Walimat Wardeh on +961 1 343 128.
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