Grammy-winning composer and vocalist Arooj Aftab closed out the West Coast leg of her tour in Los Angeles at the El Rey Theatre. The luxurious feel of the venue, with its plush carpet and sparkling chandeliers, perfectly complemented Aftab’s regal demeanor and minimalist, jazz-inspired sound. The performance was an ode to the shadow side of life, exploring the depths of grief and the subtle beauty of the night.
The songs from Vulture Prince, written as Aftab was processing the passing of her brother, carry the somber relic of grief. But it’s not all doom and gloom–Aftab’s dry humor and songs from her more recent album, Night Reign, offer an antidote to the “depressing songs.” “I’ve had to scold my fans because they’ve been meditating too much during my shows,” joked Aftab, hoping to counteract the misconception that she only makes sad songs. Throughout the show, she made sure to tell the audience whether the next song is a “depressing song” or not. Before performing “Whiskey” she requested shots of whisky to be handed out to help the audience let loose, though she quickly realized that the ask might be “highly illegal.” To everyone’s surprise, her request was actually granted, allowing lucky audience members to imagine going to a bar and getting progressively more drunk with a friend, which was the scenario depicted in the song.
A resident of the city that never sleeps, Aftab accesses connection, intrigue, grief, and inspiration in the evening hours, and the setlist and mood of the performance reflected her love of nighttime. Aftab shared that her next song, “Raat Ki Rani,” which translates to “Queen of the Night” in Urdu, is about feeling very intense connections at gatherings that fade as soon as the night is over. It’s a feeling that isn’t often acknowledged, maybe because of its ephemerality, but there’s an intensity that cannot be dismissed. The song has a subdued yet alluring quality, and Aftab’s voice meandered through the steady beat like a wandering gaze at a party. After the crowd favorite “Last Night,” Aftab performed two more mellow songs, “Na Gul” and “Saans Lo.” The lyrics from “Na Gul” draw from a poem written by 18th century female poet and courtesan Mah Laqa Bai Chanda, a name that can be interpreted as “Queen of the Moon,” a fitting muse for Aftab’s vespertine proclivities.
The instrumentalists supporting Aftab, namely Zwelakhe-Duma Bell le Pere on double bass, Engin Kaan Gunaydin on percussion, and Gyan Riley on classical guitar, delightfully complemented the vocalist’s haunting, velvety voice. The percussion was used as much to generate an atmospheric quality as it was to produce a beat, and the double bass offered a grounding heartbeat, sometimes acting as the lower portion of arpeggiated guitar chords, other times offering counterpoint to the guitar. Riley’s gentle expressiveness, paired with technical prowess and a little help from some pedals, drew cheers from the crowd during multiple solos. He maintained a light, improvisatory quality about his playing while also remaining unfailingly rhythmic. When Bell le Pere had to return backstage unexpectedly, Riley bought him some time by offering the audience a three minute solo, and Aftab contributed to the entertainment, not by singing, but by folding and throwing a paper plane. Thankfully, Bell le Pere recovered enough to return on stage for the last few songs.
As the stage was bathed in red light, Aftab introduced “Bolo Na” as the “moshing song,”, referencing the sturdy bass beat and the commanding snares. While no moshing occurred, the song followed the tradition of many metal bands by speaking out against the hatred, division, and exploitation being perpetuated in the world. A current of rage and rebellion was coupled with an unflagging desire for a more loving, just future. “Hold each other close, and build the community you want to see,” Aftab reminded the crowd. Her words and her introspective artistry offer a beacon of hope in an increasingly dystopian world.
