I've never been to a concert in an Indian restaurant. I love Indian food, and I love strange instrumental music, and so it feels like a no brainer that I would enjoy a melding of the two. It's not something I can imagine happens much, but it has happened at least once because Live at Nawab is a recording of exactly that.
This three-track album is in fact three separate performances by three separate artists: Wednesday Knudsen; Elaheh Roya; and pigeon school.
Wednesday Knudsen starts things off with long saxophone tones that ring out through the room. There's something quite ominous about how it sounds, each interval evoking a sense of either dread or pathos, at times being interrupted by either a triangle or finger cymbals that reverberate indefinitely. The tones duplicate and wrap around each other, all the while you can hear the clanging of knives and forks in the background.
About a third of the way through, things switch up into what sounds like a mostly improvised saxophone solo running through an equally improvised effects unit. It's jarring, at first, and I initially wasn't enjoying it quite as much as that opening section. Eventually, however, it stops feeling like aimless noodling and takes on a new harmonic shape as synths and eventually vocals join in, and it ends up quite ethereal and beautiful.
Next up is Elaheh Roya. This feels, to me at least, like the heart of the album. Elaheh is an Iranian artist, and all proceeds from this album go to Mons Against Poverty's work in Iran. The music itself is a harmonium drone accompanied by Elaheh's wonderful vocals. Her voice soars through the restaurant with its minor Arabic scales, and at no point during the 11 minute performance was I anything less than captivated. At the end of the performance she states that if she was in Iran right now, she would not be able to sing solo, and urges people to use their voices in a time when a lot of people don't have one.
The third and final performance is by pigeon school. What is immediately apparent is that this is a far less organic performance than the two that preceded it, especially Elaheh's. A quiet synth loop plays while people chatter away, before some deep and scratchy ambience fades in. These degraded tape loops pack a pretty emotional bunch with their sad and nostalgic sound. A melody desperately tries to break through the crackling hum while the birds chirp almost silently in the background.
At about the half way point, things almost disappear entirely and give way to a space age hum. As it builds back up, the sense of melancholy is no longer anywhere to be found and we're left with something a little colder. A chord organ is comes in, and there's an almost childlike playfulness to it. As the track swells back up that sense of emotion and nostalgia come with it.
I do wish I had been there at the Indian restaurant eating curry and naan bread and enjoying these performances. These recordings sounds great and I don't think too much was lost in the process, but I can close my eyes and imagine the sound filling the room, and I wish I had been there.