Suzy bell: Bhangra guide to Durban
A middle-aged man in a silk shimmery naartjie-orange suit, black T-shirt and gold chain holds his microphone like a lover to his chest. Then, dramatically, he breaks into song: “Hey you sexy baby! Hey you sexy baby!” Ramesh Hassan, “South Africa’s number one bhangra masala vocalist” welcomes you to Rock World night club on a Friday night in Durban.
So you too can gyrate under the influence of nothing much else but the pulsating bhangra beat and trippy disco lights with a live classical Indian band in the background. It’s the frenetic tala (rhythmic beat) of the tabla (drum) and the raga (melody) of the sitar, but with English, Hindi or Tamil lyrics that border on the bizarre: “Sheila is the queen; she looks so mean; like a fighting machine.”
At Rock World faux ivy creeps across the ceilings and the floor tiles are so shiny you can re-apply your lipstick in their reflection. The crowds are an absolute blast – very joyful and keen to rage.
Some sit quietly sipping coca-cola, others cling to the chrome dance railings that surround the dance floor and just watch. A man falls over. His wife attempts to pick him up. “Just one more time you fall like that, and I give you one clap!” shouts peeved wife. Hubby scowls. Wife scowls back. Bouncer drags hubby off for a stern chat.
That’s as wild as a bhangra evening gets. Because, like the Italians, it’s very much a family affair, and it’s not unusual to spot a hyperactive five-year-old on the dance floor.
“How many from Chatsworth here tonight?” asks Hassan, who gets an enthusiastic roar of a reply from the crowds. Amid the excitement, two eager men from Chatsworth hurdle over the railings on to the dance floor, still clutching their tortoise- shell cellphones. “Dance baby!” shrieks a woman with gold hoopy earings and a pink crochet cardigan. To the initially slow clapping of the crowds the men begin to bhangra.
Suddenly it’s really up-tempo and the dance style is incredibly melodramatic. It’s characterised by abrupt twisting and sudden bending movements of the body. There is also a load of finger-snapping. Hands are often held high above the head, sometimes together, as if in prayer.
Now and again you may recognise the odd Saturday night fever disco grooves, and there’s certainly a cross-over of those tacky singalong, pubby jorls. It reminded me of student days getting vrot dronk on inane Irish lyrics at Blarney brothers gigs at the old Barn.
Bhangra is essentially a fusion of Western and Eastern music, and it’s massively popular right now in South Africa, London and Canada. It originated in the Indian state of Punjab, where traditionally it’s performed by men. A drummer stands in the open, and the dancers form a circle round him. But of course in Durban, it’s very different. Take any Sunday night at Stringfellas, on Durban’s beachfront. It’s here that bhangra clearly enjoys the headiness of hard-core rave.
Daft Punk’s All aboard the night train takes on a psychedelic edge when remixed with Hindi, minus the incense. Instead of rave bunnies buzzing on E, we have clear- headed bhangra babes dancing off their complimentary meal of vegetable breyani, dished up by the only black dude in the club who spends the night behind the bainmarie.
The club is massive. It’s a converted cinema, and is brightly lit. Glass chandeliers dangle from the ceiling and game trophies stare at you in the saloon bar, where high-chairs are lined up. Men in baggy denim dungarees, teenagers in black tasseled skirts and mothers in cream linen pencil skirts with sensibly buttoned-up-to- the-neck tops are all on the dance floor. Stringfella’s owner Suresh Singh says his club packs in about 700 to 1 000 people on a Sunday bhangra night.