While the third annual WOMAD (World of Music and Dance) USA festival boasted music from all over the globe, it was the familiar names that drew the bulk of the estimated 30,000 people to a municipal park in Redmond, Wash., this weekend.

On Sunday's main stage, opener Miriam Makeba was the ambassador of African rhythms, Jimmy Cliff represented Jamaican reggae, Los Lobos were the delegates from the Spanish-speaking world, and Bonnie Raitt represented American blues. Each of the artists pushed their varying styles through a common rock & roll filter.

Makeba, the performer with the longest track record, was the least familiar. To many she was just a name, or a symbol. Today, she lent the symbol substance. Fronting an eight-piece band and promoting a new album, she is poised to grab the attention of a younger and more diverse audience. It could actually work. Her music, unmistakably African, acquires a Western rock beat. Raymond Doumbe's slithering bass anchors the crossover, while Madagascar's Solofo Razafinerakoto would be a guitar hero in any country.

The crossover doesn't work when they try to cross too far, however. Makeba's African songs are magical and enthralling; her English language selections, on the other hand, are considerably less endearing. You could change the locale of "Africa Is Where My Heart Lies," give the song to Celine Dion and the effect would be about the same. A cloying a capella ballad sung by Makeba's granddaughter Zenzi Lee wasn't much better. But an update of her 1967 hit "Pata Pata" was a highlight, with Lee taking the lead and Makeba joining in on the chorus. Perhaps these words were just as silly, but what we can't understand won't offend us.

Cliff also did a family thang, bringing on three of his young daughters -- a whirling dervish of an eight-year-old and twelve-year-old twins -- identically dressed and dancing like crazy. With his shaven head wrapped in a spangled bandanna, his grand gestures implied he was singing to the world. Two keyboardists and two percussionists occupied the rear of the stage, while the front line, with Cliff, a bass, a guitar and a remarkable singer named Chevel Franklyn, provided the visual focus. It was mostly greatest hits -- "You Can Get It If You Really Want," "Many Rivers to Cross," "The Harder They Come" -- but a cover of Cat Stevens' "Wild World" was a pleasant surprise.

Los Lobos provided the day's most expansive world music map. Beginning on acoustic instruments, they covered several traditional Mariachi tunes, where Cesar Rosas would call out the lyrics as Louie Perez and David Hildago would respond. Saxophonist Steve Berlin and a drum section soon emerged, and Lobos gradually switched over to electric instruments. Pretty soon they were roaring through some rowdy hard rock. They shifted back toward traditional Spanish music as Hildago traded his guitar for an accordion, then back to the guitar for a scorching "High Places" and a cover of Jimi Hendrix's "Are You Experienced?" They only thing predictable about this band was their unpredictability, along with Rosas' tendency to shout out "Thank you, music lovers!" every song or two.

Raitt was the least international of the four, aside from using South African-bred drummer Ricky Fataar. Opening with "I Sho Do," she swung into a set of strong blues rock, at first including several older chestnuts. She brought out songwriter Danny O'Keefe for a spirited "Well Well Well" (which O'Keefe wrote with Bob Dylan) and told a story about how the Dixie Chicks' cover of "Give It Up or Let Me Go" gave her enough money to send hundreds of little girls to guitar camp and "develop the next generation of kick-ass women musicians." She closed with six songs recorded since her 1989 re-emergence, playing both the best ("Spit of Love," "Love Letter") and the best-known ("Something to Talk About," "I Can't Make You Love Me") from these years. She was so happy to be playing, she hugged her guitar technician at the end of the set (by that time she'd already hugged everyone else).

Since the laws of physics prevented us from being in two places simultaneously, all WOMAD attendees missed something worthwhile. But those who never strayed from the main stage were treated to some of the finer chunks of the world's rock & roll stew.

CHARLES BERMANT
(July 31, 2000)