Hanni El Khatib
Savage Times

Hanni El Khatib is definitely one of the most considered names when it comes to the so-called contemporary USA counterculture.

After all, he is a first-generation American native, son of a Palestinian and a Filipino, born and raised in the city of Los Angeles, California, and consequently influenced by all that world that once constituted the hippie counterculture of the 1960s, which, even when updated to today, still sees the persistence of certain timeless clichés: surfing, the psychedelic pop music of the 1960s. Clearly, there is the political and social commitment.

It is too easy for The Guardian, given the premises, to describe him at the beginning of his career as a kind of angry Joe Strummer born in the United States of America to immigrant parents. A definition is certainly fitting in reference to the musical content that is somewhat 'vintage' and inspired by, among others, the punk culture infected with dub, reggae, and world music typical of The Clash and Joe Strummer; as well as the political and social commitment already mentioned that Hanni El Khatib puts into the content of his songs. But a definition that is also, at the same time, a cliché: some sort of imposition and simultaneously a kind of 'mask' which El Khatib – if he wishes – will not easily shed.

In this sense, two other examples come to mind, which are apparently so distant both musically and culturally from Hanni El Khatib, but which can probably convey the idea of the concept I want to express. One of these is Nick Waterhouse, the white boy from Santa Ana, California, who grew up in Huntington Beach and plays new songs of old rhythm & blues, jazz, and soul music; Father John Misty, who, in presenting a kind of almost 'iconoclastic' persona cult (given the significant and central role of his aesthetic), is practically a parody of John Lennon and the psychedelic pop music of the 60s-70s.

These are clearly artistic choices and, as such, indisputable, but perhaps in some way are more than what someone might define as convenient choices (in a commercial sense). They are the proposition of certain stereotypes, considering the subject of the artists in question, that are evidently deeply rooted in certain cultural circles in the United States and the entire Western world.

Besides, after a beginning in which Hanni El Khatib proposed a kind of rock-blues with references to Mediterranean culture, making someone even think of associating him with Tinariwen, his subsequent musical journey (also as a producer) was instead aimed at compacting or flattening - whichever you prefer - his production to a certain standard of 'vintage' music that is, at the same time, clearly indie. In the sense of contemporary aesthetics. Hype.

His latest album, 'Savage Times' (Innovative Leisure), is, for the most part, centered around the current American political scenario. The songs were actually written in 2016 and before the election of Donald Trump, but even Hanni El Khatib, when several interviews pointed out how the songs' content in the album seemed prophetic, could not deny how the central issue of Trump's program, that of building the infamous wall at the Mexican border to stop migration flows and his overall authoritarian stance on the matter, had inevitably involved him.

On the other hand, the album itself is, in some manner, definitely a product open to criticism.

First of all, it is not exactly an album, but a selection of 19 songs that Hanni El Khatib chose to release after compiling various recordings. An idea that is not necessarily bad, but as such comes with a certain disconnection in content, which becomes too evident to the listener; secondly, the overall quality of the product is objectively mediocre, and considering the lack of reference points, it feels like being in front of what would or at least should be a total flop.

The album sees the alternation of all those musical reference models of El Khatib: the post-punk garage of 'Baby's Ok', 'Mangos & Rice', 'Mondo & His Makeup', 'Savage Times', 'Till Your Rose Come Home'; a kind of seventies-inspired rock-blues like Jimi Hendrix or Led Zeppelin ('I Am Rock', 'Black Constellation'); especially Garland Jeffreys influences ('So Dusty', 'Miracle') and, in any case, songs infected by reggae or dub influences ('This I Know', 'Peep Show', 'Gun Clap Hero', 'Hold Me Back') to more worn-out and typically indie and easy-listening pieces like 'Gonna Die Alone', 'Freak Freely'.

In the end, however, I can't really say if the album is bad or if I don't like it because there's too much or because there's too little good stuff. It is clearly, in any case, an album that, despite the forcibly vintage ambitions of presenting itself as a kind of 'London Calling' or 'Sandinista!' in a nutshell, is nevertheless a product of its time. The feeling is that, like much of what is ultimately pop culture, even this album is as such representative and meaningful only in a specific moment and space in time, which in this case, Hanni El Khatib decided to define as 'savage'. But even this definition, ultimately, could work as well today as it did yesterday, and more than evoking the wild spirit of Jim Morrison and The Doors or the animalistic nature of Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, The Rolling Stones, Iggy and the Stooges, the paranoia of Ian Curtis or Johnny Rotten, it instead seems to be a typical expression of the man on the street.