Tunisian oud master, vocalist, and composer Dhafer Youssef is globally renowned for his restless musicality. He has used his ancient instrument – five millennia and counting – to explore jazz, classical, and blues, in addition to the classical and folk musics of the Middle East, North Africa, and Mediterranean regions. The ephemeral Birds Requiem is his debut offering for Sony's resurrected Okeh imprint. The players on this date include his trio with pianist Kristjan Randalu and trumpeter Nils-Petter Molvaer, and the complete ensemble (which recorded primarily in Sweden) features clarinetist Hüsnu Senlendirici, bassist Phil Donkin, drummer Chander Sardjoe, and electric guitarist Eivind Aarset, which also provides various electronic treatments.
Dhafer Youssef's music is rooted in the Sufi tradition and other mystical music but has always been open to ideas from other musical cultures, including jazz. With his complex compositions and deeply affecting singing, Youssef is one of the most impressive voices to emerge in this musical field for several years. Born in Tunisia in 1967, composer, singer, and oud player Dhafer Youssef has been living and working in Vienna since 1990 with such artists as Sainkho Namchylak, Paolo Fresu, Arto Tuncboyacian, Linda Sharrock, Wolfgang Puschnig, Christian Muthspiel, Jamey Haddad, Iva Bittova, Tom Cora and other great improvisers.
Diwan Of Beauty And Odd, the first album Tunisian composer, singer and oud player Dhafer Youssef has recorded with an all-American band, carries all the trademarks this exceptional artist is known for: beautiful melodies, heartfelt chanting over infectious grooves and great artistry on his instruments, as well as of all musicians performing with him. These young jazz musicians understand Dhafer's musical world perfectly, and thoroughly enjoy the music making – just listen to how perfectly trumpet player Akinmusire plays in unison with Dhafer or how pianist Aaron Parks duets with him on Fly Shadow Fly. Although the album is more rooted in jazz, his traditional Sufi chants give it a unique and touching quality.
Even in the adventurous territory of jazz, this French-Vietnamese musician stands out as a unique explorer of sounds. His new CD will surprise even those who believe themselves to be, by now, familiar with the diversity of his musical output. The first unusual fact: Most of the tracks were recorded in Lê’s living room (pardon me, his salon), and also completed à la maison using his computer. The second unusual fact: This domestic method of producing music need not conjure up the cosy, well worn realm of familial comfort, in fact Nguyên Lê leads the listener into a space that is full to the brim with warped sounds and acoustical metamorphoses.
Tunisia-born singer and oudist Dhafer Youssef should be recording for ECM. His albums have a similar spiritual, centered quality to the work appearing on that label, and his work on this album with some of Norway's top jazz players points completely in that direction. He lives very much on the cutting edge, taking things even further than he did on 2001's Electric Sufi. Where that album used electronica as the periphery of the music, here he brings it to the heart of the sound, integrating it seamlessly into his compositions, as on "Aya," where a seemingly found sound becomes the heartbeat of the track. His collaborators, including trumpeter Nils Petter Molvær, offer him plenty of space, and that's what the music needs – it's as wide open as the Tunisian desert.
Although it's a dual-leader album, in which oud player Dhafer Youssef's performance is at least as important as that of guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel, one of Glow's chief causes for celebration is Muthspiel's on-form presence. After releasing the shimmeringly beautiful Bright Side (Material Records, 2006)—a little-known masterpiece which may yet take its place alongside such jazz guitar iconographs as Johnny Smith's Moonlight In Vermont (Roulette, 1953, reissued 2004) and Wes Montgomery's Incredible Jazz Guitar (Riverside, 1960)—Muthspiel's project with drummer Brian Blade, Friendly Travelers (Material Records, 2007), was a disappointment, interesting in conception but not entirely convincing in execution.
Some musicians experience a sacred and deeply intimate relation with their art. When a 19-year-old Dhafer Youssef discovered Indian music in Vienna, where he was studying classical music, it had the effect of a bewildering epiphany on him. Hindu sonorities struck a deep chord within Dhafer’s musical soul – thirty years later, the Tunisian composer reminisces : « I was both filled with wonder as well as deeply convinced that one day I would be performing alongside the most legendary players of Indian music ». A memorable show from Ali Akbar Khan, the master of Indian sarod, at the Wiener Konzerthaus in Vienna came to seal the deal for the vocalist and oud master. From then on, Dhafer Youssef lived and breathed Indian music. Or was it Indian music that had appointed him to become its messenger?