The gig has only just started, and Dhafer Youssef is already laying down the law: "If you want to talk, come up here and do it," he snaps at a couple of nattering punters. The club atmosphere is banished immediately, and a reverent silence prevails. It is tempting to level charges of gross self-importance, until you remember that as an Islamic Sufi singer, Youssef belongs to a musical tradition that makes Gregorian chanting sound about as serious as Atomic Kitten. The aim is communion with God, and judging by the intensity and purity of tonight's performance, Youssef made contact quite some time ago.
For most of the show he sits hunched on a stool, cradling his oud (a bulbous, mandolin-like instrument) and nodding his head ecstatically. Every now and then he jumps up as if he's been electrocuted, then sits back down and resumes plucking his mysterious melodies. In his hands the oud is a banjo, a Spanish guitar, a sitar, and any number of instruments you've probably never heard of. He communicates with his three band-mates by smiling intensely at them whenever he looks up, and they respond with almost telepathic precision.
Youssef may take his music very seriously, but he is no purist. The line-up of electric guitar, upright bass and drum-kit is a testimony to the years he has spent living and working in Europe. His compositions take in elements of jazz and funk, the drummer uses a megaphone to conjure mysterious elec tronic noises, and one of the pieces sounds suspiciously like the Runaway Train. Yet apart from a few slightly gratuitous noodley interludes (and one too many fusion electric guitar solos) all the music is suffused with an aura of spirituality.
It is the singing that really raises the roof. There are no actual lyrics, but every time Youssef opens his mouth we are treated to a soaring sound that seems to echo back through the centuries. A touch of reverb on his microphone adds to the effect, evoking images of dark and ancient temples. Most of these keening phrases sound curiously mournful, as if this direct communion with God has proved somewhat disappointing. Still, with the band steam-rolling along behind him, Youssef finally succeeds in transforming the chastened audience into a cheering, whooping club crowd.
