It was a small, often raucous and thoroughly interconnected world on Saturday night at the third Globalfest, the Public Theater's annual showcase of international music, which was repeated yesterday. Held during the convention of the Association of Performing Arts Presenters, Globalfest let bookers size up 13 acts in six hours, wielding instruments from oud to button accordion, tuba to laptop.
Visions of world music as a realm of newly visible traditions and pure local styles have given way, at Globalfest, to a more realistic, less romantically exotic perspective. Musicians have always made choices about what to preserve and what to change from their heritage; now, they can sample countless possibilities. The program tilted toward Paris and New York; the French Embassy was a sponsor.
Balkan Beat Box, formed by Israelis in New York City, used samplers and drum machines, looping old recordings with its own instruments. It had gimmicky moments - a belly-dancer lip-synching to an old recording - but when its two saxophonists latched onto a dance tune, klezmer and D.J. style found common ground. Auktyon, from St. Petersburg, Russia, was even more rambunctious in its bruising rock songs. Its frontman moved like a floppy-armed version of Zippy the Pinhead; its songs held hints of Slavic tradition driven by a burly low register: bass, baritone saxophone and tuba.
Daara J, a Senegalese hip-hop group whose name means "school of life," was purposely and joyfully polyglot, from its wardrobe to songs in at least four languages (English, French, Spanish, Wolof) and grooves from across the African diaspora. Like most major hip-hop acts from outside the United States, Daara J is a group of overachievers. Its members slipped consciousness-raising ideas between punchy choruses, danced and leaped across the stage, sang with rich harmonies and let loose speed-tongued, triple-time rhymes, all determined to dazzle.
There were gentler but equally ambitious hybrids.
Las Ondas Marteles is a French group that performs Cuban songs. Missing its guitarist, it performed skeletal versions - for Nicolas Martel on voice and hand-held percussion and Sarah Murcia on bass - of boleros (in Spanish) by Miguel Ángel Ruiz. Mr. Martel, who has a dancer's grace, sang in a supple, liquid tenor, adding some French nonchalance to the achingly lovelorn songs. Keren Ann, a star in France who is now a part-time New Yorker, sang her gorgeously anachronistic songs - touching on torchy cabaret, blues and folk-pop - with a leisurely tenderness and a sly undertone.
Niyaz, from Los Angeles, is led by an Iranian vocalist, Azam Ali, who grew up in India. She sang poems by the Persian Sufi sage Rumi and folk songs from Iran and India. She was backed by Middle Eastern lutes, Indian tabla drums and a laptop providing a deep, ambient throb that only made the music seem more mystical.
Roxane Butterfly's Worldbeats strained to mingle earnest spoken words (about "womanity"), music that bridged modal jazz and Moroccan riffs, and tap dancing with some flamenco postures. The singer Daby Touré, from Mauritania, hinted at tradition in tunes that jumped in and out of falsetto, but his songs showed just as much influence from Sting.
Fusions that stayed closer to local roots provided some of the night's best music. Lura, who was born in Portugal to parents from the Cape Verde Islands off Africa, drew on some of the islands' more upbeat styles. She danced with sensual grace and sang in a richly poised alto that held memories of Africa. Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys, from south Louisiana, sang in Cajun French and played old and new songs claiming a bayou heritage that stretches from Celtic music to hints of the blues. Juan Carmona, a virtuosic French Gypsy guitarist, mixed traditional flamenco with French fusion touches. The tension and release of flamenco tradition made for the most striking parts of his set; he didn't need the wind chimes.
And DJ Dolores, from Brazil (his real name is Helder Aragão), ended the night at the turntables with a set that touched down in Brazil but embraced klezmer and hip-hop, too - a global finale for a club dance floor.
