In Label Dive, we take a look at labels–big and small–that have been bringing top-quality vinyl releases to fans across the world.
Celebrating the sounds of Arab funk, jazz and soul, Habibi Funk has established itself as a major player in the increasingly crowded vinyl reissue field. The Berlin-based label, co-founded by Jannis Stürtz (also of Jakarta Records), has spent a decade seeking a symbiosis between Western soul and funk and more traditional Arabic sounds to introduce to a wider audience.
Showcasing the work of artists including Fadoul and Ahmed Malek, Habibi Funk continues to platform extraordinary artists from the past and present whilst presenting them within context–the label’s iconic and instantly recognisable sleeves usually house liner notes, photography and materials that provide insight beyond the sounds the wax contains.
As Habibi Funk approaches its 10th birthday, we catch up with Stürtz to discuss the label’s history, the challenges of reissuing records and avoiding cultural colonialism.
Talk me through the origins of Habibi Funk.
It started maybe eight or nine years ago and was birthed out of another label I have been co-running since graduating from school called Jakarta Records. One of the artists from this label, Blitz the Ambassador–I think he stopped making music and is a filmmaker now–but back then he got invited to play at Mawazine Festival, the biggest Moroccan festival. I came along doing tour management and stayed a few days extra.
I eventually ended up randomly walking through the streets of Casablanca and coming across a shop that was selling and repairing broken electronics, but behind it, you could see stacks and stacks of old records, and it turned out that the shop used to be a record shop and a distributor in the ‘70s, ‘80s and ‘90s. I went through the records and eventually picked up some that looked cool. Among them was a record by a Moroccan singer, Fadoul who was heavily inspired by James Brown and American rock music and translated this into his local context.
Because we were already running a record label, we knew how the logistics work and the idea was born quite quickly to start a label dedicated to re-releasing some of this music. We then spent a year or two on the project trying to find him. Eventually, we found someone who used to run in the same circles and they told me that he had died in the early ‘90s. Through him, we eventually found a mutual friend of his that remembered where his family used to live and we went to this neighbourhood in Casablanca and asked around, eventually found his sister and we licensed the music from his family.
That became the first full album we reissued and back then we didn’t anticipate it would end up such a long-term project–I think we’re at catalogue number 28 now. Luckily, the interest never stopped and we kept on finding new music and realised the amount of music we can put out is limitless.
In those days, what was the guiding force behind the music you sought to release?
Musically, even though the label has the genre of funk in it, it’s a bit wider than that. There’s a high chance of us being interested in a project, artist or release if someone tried to bring together influences outside of what they were accustomed to growing up or locally– they’re translating something into a new context. There’s been a wide range of sounds and countries of origin that fall under this umbrella but that’s the connection between them.
Not all of the artists we’ve put out under the label were obscure, but the majority of the releases were originally not overly popular. We have these extreme cases of someone whose album came out in a run of 50 cassette tapes in ‘78 in Lebanon and has now probably sold thousands of copies on vinyl.
Ideally, we’re a bridge between the music we think is great and a bigger audience.
What does your day-to-day research look like when seeking records to reissue?
There’s no one blueprint for all of this. In the beginning, we went to places that sell records in North Africa and West Asia trying to find interesting stuff and different scenes and records.
We’ve gotten to the point where it has become rare to still find stuff that is under the radar when it comes to vinyl. Cassettes have become more interesting or stuff that never got put out at all. We now have a network of people who contribute one way or another as opposed to taking shots in the dark. There’s also the trivial stuff– spending nights going through YouTube or MP3 download sites and stuff like that.
In general, everything relates to finding music, but also once we find a project that we think is interesting, we have to find the artist, supporting material, and ways to contextualise the music. It’s gotten substantially easier,
Is licencing the records a challenge?
It can be, but sometimes it’s quick. That is probably the aspect where things changed drastically since the beginning. Some artists remain unfound by us to this day, and we’ve been in various stages of intensity looking for them.
It’s common these days that I have someone’s contact within 24 hours, just because I have someone who knows someone who knows someone. This is definitely where the network we have has helped to speed up this process. These crazy stories of us looking for someone for two years and randomly walking the streets of Casablanca and showing people the cover and asking, “Do you remember this guy?”–that’s not necessary anymore.
Within the reissue world, there’s a conversation to be had about how to respect artists and avoid cultural colonialism. How do you approach this?
The basic starting point when it comes to economics was for us to decide that we’re not going to treat any of the artists whose music we reissue differently than a contemporary artist. For contemporary artists, there’s a very standard, standardised form of releasing music–the classic 50/50 split deal where the label doesn’t have any ownership, but licenses the music for a particular time. These deals usually don’t include publishing rights.
We replicated this ratio which I think now a lot of people do and probably even when we started, a few did, but back in the days it was still common that deals tended to not be very advantageous for the artist. We wanted to avoid this.
It goes further when it comes to artwork designs and the way we speak about music. There is this colonial history on whose shoulders we are standing. It’s necessary to be aware of certain patterns of representation, be it visually or the way Arabic music is spoken about. It’s important to not replicate certain representations that are problematic.
It’s vital to stay critical towards your own biases. I’m sure now, seven, eight years down the line, I could read some of our press releases from back then and there’s probably shit in there that I wouldn’t write anymore. There’s this trivial example that always comes to mind. In this world of digging for records I’m socialised through, it’s very common to say “I discovered this record”. A friend of mine pointed out to me that using “discovered” in the context of music from a place you’re not from gives strong Christopher Columbus vibes and that makes perfect sense. Since then we’ve stopped using that word to describe music that isn’t on anyone’s radar. I always keep an open mind to these things.
Habibi Funk’s releases have a strong, consistent visual language. Could you talk me through the decisions behind that?
We always liked labels with a visual identity that makes it easy to spot them. From a PR standpoint, it helps, especially if you work with artists whose names might not ring familiar to people. We managed to pack it so that people can recognise it as a part of the label and it increases the chances that people would see it in a record shop and give it a listen. That’s the promotional idea behind it.
We’ve been working with a designer from Beirut called Raphaelle Macaron. She always does the letterings of the front covers by hand and then we always have a photo. Visually, we come across a lot of cool photographic material for our releases so we felt like having a very stripped-down artwork. Sometimes, once you are at catalogue number 27 or 28, you get to the point where you’re like, “All right, it’s limiting a little bit”. But now we’ve created this monster of continuous artwork, and I guess we have to stick with it. For example with the new Ahmed Malek release, we did a box set so even though the release itself is within the usual visual identity of the label, we were able to step out of that a bit.
Are there any particular moments over the years with the label that you’re particularly proud of?
One standout memory that also links to the Ahmed Malik release we’re currently putting out–we’ve done three albums by Ahmed Malik now and the first one was our third overall release.
I was playing a DJ gig in Beirut and I spoke to a friend about Malik and how I liked his music and would like the idea of putting him out. I had tried doing it but couldn’t succeed in finding his family because he had passed away 10 years before.
My friend was like, “Let me ask my friend who’s from Algeria” but there are like 40 million people in Algeria so I didn’t get my hopes up. Eventually, it turned out that the friend’s family lived in the same building as Ahmed Malik’s daughter. I’m not a religious or spiritual person, but Henia, one of Malik’s daughters, said she was sure her dad made it happen from heaven. Even as a non-religious person, if you’re looking at the odds, that’s probably the most unlikely scenario.
Do you have any plans for the 10th anniversary of the label?
In general, we’re trying to encourage some of the artists from the label to play live shows and an event we’re working on in London in early October. Initially, we mostly had artists who were elderly or deceased but now we have more, hopefully, next year or at the end of this year we’ll see more live shows.
Essential Habibi Funk records according to Jannis Stürtz
Fadoul
Al Zman Saib
With an incomparable sound that can only be described as Arabic funk played with a punk attitude, Moroccan singer Fadoul’s first LP is a window into the Casablanca rock and funk scene of the 1970s and 80s. Influenced by American soul from James Brown and the sounds of Morocco, Al Zman Saib is a unique blend of sounds. Al Zman Saib is the product of the late and great Fadoul’s musical career, and the three-year journey from first finding a Fadoul 7” buried in a Casablanca record store, to getting this LP pressed for the first time. Without this record HF would not exist.
Al Massrieen
Modern Music
Al Massrieen’s sound varies from lush disco on tracks like “Sah,” to psych rock on “Horreya,” and incredible jazz fused pop on songs like “Edba Mn Gded.” The album was widely featured in Emmy Award winning show “Ramy” on Hulu which opened a lot of doors for us.
Rogér Fakhr
Fine Anyway
Rogér Fakhr’s name was constantly praised by Lebanese musicians. The music is folk at its core with his own touch every song composed by Rogér himself. The sound could just as easily have been California or Beirut. Due to the fact that the album socially stands out quite a bit in our catalogue, we were not sure how well the album would work but it ended up being one of our most successful releases.
Ahmed Malek
Musique Originale De Films (Volume 2)
The maestro of Algerian film and TV scoring, Ahmed Malek’s compositions are timeless. Without even seeing the films his music backed, the songs are still stirring and captivating. Malek manages to create a very special mood: melancholic and reflective, emotional and touching, but never depressing.
Ferkat Al Ard
Oghneya
An absolutely legendary album from Lebanon by the incredible Issam Hajali’s group Ferkat Al Ard, released from 1978. This album represents the meeting point of Arab music, jazz, folk, and Brazilian styles, fused with the talent of Ziad Rahbani, who did the album’s arrangements. “Oghneya” sounds a bit as if Arthur Verocai took a trip to Beirut in the 70’s to record an album.
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