Etran de L’Aïr with Maya Ongaku
1743 San Pablo Ave, Oakland
April 15, 2025
The sound of silky-smooth electronica emanated from inside the main room of The New Parish as I walked down the framed picture-lined entrance hallway. It was both tax day and election night in Oakland, and I was turning up.
This historic building was once Sweet Jimmie’s. Jimmie Ward, a longshoreman, first opened his nightclub on 17th street in 1982. That building was damaged during the Loma Prieta earthquake, so he moved into this location at the intersection of downtown, uptown, and West Oakland.
On this particular night, the bill consisted of two international bands. The Golden State Warriors were also playing in a do-or-die elimination game, but the crowd at The New Parish was fairly sizable, especially for a Tuesday.
On stage was Maya Ongaku, a Japanese trio consisting of guitar/vocals, bass, keyboard/sax/flute, and various tech. The name translates as the imagined view outside one's field of vision, and their hypnotic music definitely had me seeing things. Their sound was airy and groovy, and the vocalist sang with a tone so polite that even the most elite customer service reps would be jealous.
As soon as their set ended, people flocked to their merch table while the stage was transitioned for the headliner.
In stark contrast to the swaying softness of Maya Ongaku, Etran De L’Aïr was sonically more akin to the fourth of July. A family band from Agadez, Niger, their name means stars of the Aïr region. They’re huge on the Tuareg wedding circuit, and, appropriately, their sound can best be described as “celebratory.” It's upbeat, hip-moving, and loud.
The quartet wore matching custom outfits: white tagelmust (a head scarf that serves as both a turban and veil), green full-length robe, and green ekerbey trousers.
They played psychedelic surf rock from the middle of the Saharan desert, but Etran de L’Aïr are not African musicians playing American music: their music is irrefutably African, with global influences, and a post-punk attitude.
Two electric guitars navigated complementary pentatonic riffs, holding down the groove with the bassist while the drummer was lightweight soloing the entire time. He absolutely kept the groove though, magically keeping it simple while also taking up a lot of space. Impressively, he (and each of the others) played wearing sandals.
Every song had groove sections alternating with improv sections before inevitably escalating into a full blown, multi-minute climax section. When I say climax, I in no way mean that they weren’t already playing fortissimo: their standard operating procedure was definitely 100.
It wasn’t chaos though. These brothers and cousins played with the chemistry of a band that has been gigging together for three decades.
Their vocal harmonies were entrancing and socio-political. When they sing about love, it tends to be more about a love for humanity than that of romance. On a special election night in Oakland, the lyrics to Erkazamane from Etran's 2024 album 100% Sahara Guitar were particularly fitting:
We are living in a terribly frightening time, we have to wake up and stand tall. I love having my community happy and together. We hope our community stays strong and united, hand-in-hand. I am urging all of my people, whoever they are, to finally wake up!
The mostly caucasian crowd danced like no one was watching, and applauded enthusiastically after every song. They even induced an encore out of the band, ending with a five minute guitar solo climax.
Descendants of Saharan nomads, Etran de L’Aïr are on their third US tour at an interesting moment in US transportation security policy. Their visas, which apparently cost $8K per person, expire soon. After touring the US through mid-May, they will head to Europe.
Etran’s tour manager/label owner Christopher Kirkley, a keffiyeh-wearing white guy from Portland, told me that despite the heftier pricetag, he prefers touring the US because there is less “othering” here. “In Europe, we’re viewed as African music, whereas in the US, we’re just music,” he said. “We can play at more venues here.”
All I know is that on a night when a lot of people in Oakland were celebrating, there was no party more lit than the Etran de L’Aïr show at The New Parish.
