Three Musicians Crossing Cultural Borders
Garbarek's saxophone meets Brahem's oud and Hussain's tabla in a conversation that sounds entirely natural.
Madar arrived in early 1994 as something Jan Garbarek had been working toward for years—a genuine three-way dialogue between Norwegian jazz sensibility and the classical traditions of North Africa and South Asia. Anouar Brahem wrote most of these pieces, which matters because they're not jazz tunes dressed up with world music colors. They're oud compositions that happen to include saxophone. Ustad Shaukat Hussain on tabla anchors everything with rhythms that are intricate but never busy, giving Garbarek room to breathe without the usual piano-trio scaffolding.
The album doesn't sound like fusion in the sense of compromise or blending. It sounds more like three musicians who speak different languages fluently enough to actually say something together. Garbarek plays cleaner, more reserved than usual—less of the breathy, searching quality that defines his best work. That's not a criticism; it's practical. With Brahem's oud commanding the harmonic and melodic space, there's no need for Garbarek to fill gaps. When he enters, you hear him clearly. The rhythmic conversations between Brahem and Hussain create a foundation that's stable but not stiff. Pieces breathe in ways that would collapse if anyone here was faking it.
If you know Garbarek's solo work or his trio recordings, this is a sideways move in his catalog rather than a natural progression. It's not essential in the way Witchcraft (1968) or Afric Pepperbird (1970) are. But it's one of those albums that works best if you approach it on its own terms—not as jazz with additions, but as conversation between three serious musicians who had something specific to say. Worth hearing, especially if you're curious about how these traditions actually sound together rather than how they're theorized to fit.
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