An Evening with Cheb I Sabbah
On a cold, drizzly San Francisco evening last January, I worked my way to the home of the man known as Cheb I Sabbah. I was in the final stages of my first book, The Journey of Life: 100 Lessons from Around the World, on the heels of a deadline for Nirvana Woman magazine and maintaining my "day job" as a college administrator. Cheb i had been busy traveling back and forth to India, working on Devotion, while continuing to spin on Haight Street in San Francisco, at Temple Bar in Santa Monica and at an array of other venues throughout the world. Even though I knew Cheb i was a busy man, I was determined to have him in my book. The Algerian-born man in his early 60s, sporting long hair strategically placed atop his head, a gold hoop in his ear and glasses had won over the hearts of so many people with his young-at-heart presence, and boundary-breaking music that brought so many types of people together. I had first discovered Cheb i five years earlier, when I stopped in at his weekly event at Nicky's in SF and I had been hooked ever since. I knew that Cheb i fit perfectly into my book's mission, to bring people of all walks of life together, to inspire people to listen to music they don't understand and to empower the world to envision the world through multiple lenses; I just had to figure out how and where he fit.
Sleep deprived and running on pure adrenaline, I buzzed the door, greeted Cheb i, "Namaste," quickly following up with my all-too common greeting, "Sorry I'm late." I followed Cheb i up the stairs to his apartment, found a cozy spot on the floor in the living room, set down my bags, sifted out my little red notebook and launched into my first question.
"Wait, dear," Cheb i said in a subdued voice. "Sit for a minute, chill. I made us some Turkish coffee."
Cheb i went into the kitchen and came out with a serving platter and two petite cups of perfection. I had been so set on taking up as little of Cheb i's time as possible, that I had almost forgotten to live in the moment. Cheb i quickly brought me back to the present. Sipping my coffee and chatting with Cheb i, I set into my surroundings---a dimly lit charming room filled with a seemingly infinite amount of CDs, mixing equipment, an assortment of DVDs---clearly Cheb i's center for inspiration. "Do you take grass?" Cheb i asked as he pulled out a long, intricately desisigned, slender pipe. "You first dear, you are the guest." Now, I had completely removed my "hurried journalist" hat and knew that this would definitely be the most memorable interview I'd ever do.
I had envisioned Cheb i Sabbah as the perfect candidate to share a piece of inspiration to be paired with the lesson in my book about the importance of eclecticism, living a life without borders. I'd loved that I could always count on Cheb i's spinning for some shoulder-shaking Bhangra beats, hip-swaying Middle-Eastern, an intriguing mix of other world music, not to mention an extremely eclectic crowd. But, as I chatted with Cheb i, it quickly became clear—even if he did live a borderless life and bring all sorts of people together on the dance floor, he had no interest in being branded as "eclectic."
"Umm.. I wouldn't call my music eclectic," Cheb i said. "It's not that eclectic is a bad thing, or anything but…" We paused and laughed. "When I produce, every album has a different theme and I stick to that theme," Chebi explained.
I decided to scratch my agenda, and simply chat with Cheb i about his music, his vision, his philosophies of life and more. I knew that Cheb i definitely had a universally applicable lesson that would have a home in my book, but it would take time and a lot more chatting to determine what that would be. By the end of the chat, I'd learn that Cheb I Sabbah was much more than a musician. I would learn that Cheb i is a firm believer in karma, that he believes that people have an obligation to "give back" in whatever form that they can, and that he is genuinely committed to making the world a better place. I would conclude that Cheb i was the best fit for the lesson about practicing karma.
It wouldn't be until one year later, that Cheb i would agree to speak 'on the record' about his new album, Devotion. Here are snippets of our conversations and a glimpse of the mysterious man we have all come to know and love as, DJ Cheb i Sabbah.
What is the best part about being a deejay/musician?
I don't have a background in music, I've never (formally) studied it, but I know what I like to hear. Being a deejay, we are editors. We listen to a lot, screen out what we like and what we think people will respond well to on the dance floor and play accordingly. DJing is an art form. It is not something that anyone and everyone can do.
In what way do you hope that your music inspires others?
I always try to be humble and in the background. If I can inspire anything (peace or anything else), that's a bonus. Don Cherry told me that music is a gift and that if it's given to you, you should share it. I didn't invent music. I take something that already exists, put my own stamp on it and share it. Music always comes back to vibrational energy.
How did you get such a large following at the Temple Bar in Santa Monica?
I started out there 3-4 years ago. I don't even remember how/why I got there. It's become a big Bhangra party. There's basically no advertising—sometimes it's listed in LA Weekly, some people are on my e-mail listserve, some of the regulars bring a friend and there are always some new ones coming to see the madness. There are tons of South Asians there and the funny thing is I'm one of the few non-South Asians there. It's a difficult phenomenon to explain.
Are people ever surprised to learn that you are Algerian, not South Asian?
"Sometimes people are surprised. They don't know how to categorize me. Some people think I'm Persian, some don't know. When they ask me, I say I'm a born-again reformed Punjabi," Chebi said jokingly. "I've got the long Sikh hair going for me, and I'm vegetarian, but I don't have the beard."
You do a lot of Bhangra shows. Why Bhangra?
"Bhangra is the most happening thing on the dance floor. It is adapted to every style of music, even hip-hop. I find songs that I like, that I think will work on the dance floor and mix them up."
What makes your music such a hit at the Temple Bar?
"I'm always looking for the magic. It's indescribable. When it's there, everyone knows it and everyone feels it. It's not about me—it's really half me and half the audience."
If you had to choose one tip or piece of wisdom to share with the world, what would it be and why?
"Be tolerant. And help others so we can solve problems like poverty and ignorance. Anyone and everyone can do that. You can do that through music or dance. Music makes you feel good. When you dance to it, you send positive vibrational energy and love into the world. Everyone is good at something. Find out what you can do and do it. When you put positive vibrational energy into the world you can multiply it by two or ten. You can spread happiness, help someone see and eat."
Devotion
How is this album unique?
"I can only make albums with one particular theme. La Kehena (2005) shows the diversity of North African music including its history, its religions and its musical heritage. It was a large undertaking for listeners. In 60 minutes, listeners had to digest seven or eight different styles. The reviews of La Kehena were good, but the response was limited. I would say South Asians listen to me more than Arabs do and putting out an album with music from the Arab world may not have been the best idea for the U.S. (where the fan-base seems more interested in South Asian music)."
What do you hope your listeners take away from Devotion?
"It's summed up in what I put on the back of the CD. This album was created with utmost respect to all mystical and spiritual traditions of the Indian sub-continent in the soul aim of sharing and spreading peace, love and understanding."
This album represents several South Asian religious perspectives. Why did you choose to put out a spiritual-toned album now?
"Why not? I would say some people wake up every morning trying to deal with the whole cosmic whatever it is, and some not. For the ones who do, people can do that without going to war. Music transcends barriers. Music is the weapon. It doesn't matter what you believe or don't believe; if it inspires you to do something good for the world, that is what is important."
You sometimes refrain from using the term religion. Tell me about that.
"Religions don't get along and each one claims it's the only one. That's not good enough. It seems that if we put10 religions in one room, we could have10 wars. If we put 10 mystical traditions in one room, we might get to what is the absolute truth; if there is such a thing."
What is the most important lesson you learned while creating this album?
"I'm a musician of a certain kind. But, all I have is my ears as a producer. There are five singers and 30 musicians involved in making this album. It has been so far a blessing to work with all of them. The musicians and singers had such talent, humility and knowledge. Working with these people (some of whom have devoted 30-40 years of their lives to music) can really help one learn how to hear. The problem in the West—in Jazz and other forms of music is that we can improvise, but nobody really hears each other. The hearing process is so important."
Is there anything that you wish that your listeners knew or better understood about you?
"On a technical point of view, people assume that I'm creating a remix. But I'm an artistic producer—I gather musicians, do sessions, cut out things and make it fit. (To produce Devotion) I took three trips to New Delhi in the past year (to create an original piece). I try to stay low-key and try to be respectful toward the music that I produce. All the singers have not heard the final product; they will hear it when I have the real CD. I want their names and credits to get out there to the public. Hopefully they will like it."
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