NNF 2021 Abel Selaocoe + Nabihah Iqbal - The Halls
St Andrew’s Hall is an imposing, cavernous space. The closest venue Norwich has to a concert hall, you can squeeze an entire orchestra onto its stage. In the current climate, however, it’s all about solo performances, and while Abel Selaocoe and Nabihah Iqbal inhabit completely different musical worlds, there are striking similarities in their offerings. They are both disarmingly self-effacing, both comearmed with nothing but their instrument and a loop pedal, and both are hugely talented. It says much for their respective talents that both managed to fill the stage so ably.
Abel Selaocoe is an accomplished classical cellist, best known (at least to me) for his bold interpretation of Bach and Britten, but he is also a South African musician, and it was music from his native country that formed the bedrock of this performance. Rather than put down the cello, he managed to fuse the two cultures and sounds in a way that was consistently thrilling and frequently astonishing. Unique is an overworked word, but I can’t bring to mind anyone else who comes close to what he is doing.
The evening started with a quick wave to the audience, before he got down to business, ferociously hammering away at the cello, while singing in a way that alternated between the angelic and guttural. He then created his own backing track, using a range of beatbox techniques, looping the sound of tongue clicks, lip rolls and straightforward breathing to extraordinary effect. Occasionally, he would turn his cello to the side, using it as a drum, or skitter his fingers across the fret board, all in the service of a meticulously layered soundscape. And then, like icing on a cake, he would sing or play the cello, or do both.
Two songs in, and we were treated to an improvisation, which blended the South African music he was showcasing with shades of Bach, and perhaps a touch of Steve Reich. The lyrical content inevitably passed the audience by but there was nonetheless a flavour of the music’s sentiment in the titles he introduced. Woman Power, he explained, came from the reality that boys get told how to be a man by their mothers and the mothers around them. “The woman,” he explained, “holds the knife by the sharp end”. Take Care was all about compassion and support, while My Hero was all about his nephew. The audience may not have understood what he said about either, but there was no doubt where his sensibilities lay.
The evening flew by, finishing far too soon with some audience participation (no mean feat when they are socially distanced and wearing face masks). It was a bold move, but worked well in bringing people together in a way that is not yet possible physically. The audience responded accordingly, coming together to give him a heartfelt standing ovation.
The decision to put on two shows a night this year is an exciting innovation. Perhaps this is born out of the practical necessities of covid restrictions, but it made for an interesting juxtaposition. Having walked round the block after Selaocoeit was time for the late shift, as Nabihah Iqbal took to the stage. Another to arrive without ceremony, she discreetly slipped her guitar strap over her head without a word, and started strumming, seemingly inconsequentially. She is someone else who is proficient at layering sound and was actually building a soundscape, almost by stealth, over which she offered up a haunted vocal.
“That was just something I did a couple of weeks ago,” she said dismissively, before chatting away amiably.
What emerged was a theme I imagine will recur time and again during the festival – this was the first occasion she had performed in front of an audience since 2019. Inevitable nerves did show at times, but the audience were willing her on, and her appreciation for Norwich went down very well.
“Is the Grosvenor is the best fish and chip shop?” she asks, to general mutterings of approval.
The remainder of her set was given over to a performance of Blue Magic Gentle Magic, a loose collection of bits and pieces (her words) she had been working on prior to her studio being burgled. Unable to fully salvage them, and disinclined to re-record, they remain forever in stasis, and were presented here in all their intangible dreamlike state. At times, not least during the spoken passages, I was reminded of Hawkwind when Bob Calvert was the resident poet, but Laurie Anderson and Imogen Heap also came to mind.
Perhaps not music for everyone – a chatty man behind me propelled me into such an incandescent rage that I gave him a stern look – but I thought this a mesmerising contribution to the festival and a perfect late night contrast to the vigour of the performance I had seen earlier in the day.
