Think Of One

On March 4 Antwerp, Belgium collective Think Of One returns with Camping Shaabi. As always with Think Of One and their leader/composer David Bovee, this isn't about mixing things up in a crude kind of collage: Camping Shaabi integrates traditional Moroccan elements into the fabric of the band's characteristic sound & compositions, to create a strange, original and delightful musical object.

The main impulse behind this album comes from Think Of One's immoderate love for Moroccan shaabi, that popular style which is directly derived from traditional Berber music and from its irresistible rhythms. Shaabi songs were originally (and still are) performed at parties and weddings, mostly in an urban environment. But, for a good number of years, Shaabi has become massively popular with the young: just listen to FM radio or lend an ear to the music blasting from car stereos, not only in Casablanca or Marrakech but also in certain areas of Brussels and Antwerp. Shaabi is nevertheless still considered as a lesser, inferior form of music by many, which makes Think Of One's current endeavour all the more exciting: the band's aim is to get as many of us Westerners deeply addicted to the groove of Shaabi.

Many songs start off from the typical Berber 12/8 rhythm —the hallmark of Moroccan shaabi –which sometimes becomes hardly recognizable as it is transmuted into some bizarre form of R'n'[Shaa]B[eat] (as in the title track), or into a quasi-punk cavalcade (in "Alela Minena", based on a traditional counting rhyme). The album also includes tinges of abrasive rock ("Hamdushi Five," based on a different North-African rhythm), of jazz (the always inventive horn arrangements), of electronica (with plenty of subtle sound treatments and deliciously vintage-sounding keyboards), of dub and Hip-Hop ("Oppressor"). Moroccan percussion, violins and keyboards meet guitars, basses and drums, wailing houariyat voices respond to laid-back refrains in Flemish, and the whole thing is processed in typical Think Of One style.

Let's not forget the lyrics: sometimes surreal and dream-like, but often connected to social issues which concern the band (racist stupidity, for instance, in the hilarious and politically explosive "Trap het af"). Other examples: the autobiography of an old car, recycled as a taxi ("J'etais Jetee") or the uncanny "Mon Verre" and its evocation of certain dangers with which lonely female moviegoers can be confronted (pay special attention to the text chanted by Amina and Lalabrouk: it's not all in Arabic.