Daniel Nebiat
WL 356 - Sunday March 25 — 10pm
Purveyor of: Hazy summer daze in Asmara or Toronto

Daniel Nebiat’s name means “Danny the Prophet.” But don’t mistake him as a serious harbinger of doom or salvation. When Jonny Dovercourt asked him what he prophesized for the future, he said, “summer is coming!” Born in the East African nation of Eritrea, now living in the East End of Toronto, Daniel is a laidback dude who sings and plays the krar, a traditional Ethiopian stringed instrument similar to the harp but hand-held, tuned to a pentatonic scale and in Daniel’s case, amplified. In his hands, the krar fulfills Danny’s prophecy by offering a hazy, shimmering, summery sound that perfects fits with his sped-up, modern take on the entrancing, cyclical 6/8 rhythms of the Horn of Africa. Jonny D. caught up with him to discuss life and music, at Danny’s favourite daytime hangout, Jet Fuel Coffee on Parliament.

Where were you born?

I was in Asmara, the capital of Eritrea, I lived there ‘til I was 19. I grew up in my own world. I was surrounded by war and oppression, but somehow my brain didn’t grow that big to accept it. I was taking everything in from a kid’s perspective. My Dad was in the war, he joined the Eritrean Liberation Army when I was two and a half. He died in the war (against Ethiopia) in 1984. I had a wonderful Mom, who owned a restaurant and raised four kids by herself. She ran the restaurant by herself from six in the morning to ten at night, every day.

How old were you when you started playing music?

I bought my first instrument when I was 13, but I didn’t get to play it. Back home, your family wants you to be a doctor or a pilot. So I bought my first krar, but my Mom didn’t agree with it, and so two or three days later she smashed it into firewood and it was used to cook food. I remember eating that food… and thinking about my krar!

And all your hard-earned money…?

Yeah… Every year, we have these big New Year’s celebrations in Eritrea… you’d buy a big torch, which was actually a dried-up cactus tree, and you’d light it and then lay it on the ground for people to walk over two or three times, then you’d say “have a good year” or whatever, and people would give you like 25 cents or something… but I used to be smart, I’d do it in front of my Mom’s store, and she’d be watching, so people would make sure to give me a dollar or five dollars to be on my Mom’s good side! So I’d make more money that way. And after my older brother left for Egypt, my Mom had no help at the store, and she asked me to work for her, but I refused unless she sent me to music school, which she did. The teacher was scum, all he did was flirt with the girls, and I wasn’t learning anything.

So when did you first get to play the krar?

Not ‘til I immigrated to Ethiopia when I was 19. I had to go to Addis Ababa to get my visa to move to Canada, because we were under their (Ethiopian) rule at that time. I met a guy called Biniam, who knew how to play the krar. He showed me how to tune it and to play one song. Five or six months later, I was teaching him!

Had you spent most of your teens just thinking about music, then?

Yeah, I was just learning songs in my head. Before I started playing music I was a really good dancer. I was the neighbourhood clown, people would always ask me to show off my moves. So in Addis I started playing at friends’ houses while we were having coffee, but at the same time I really had this focus, which was to get the fuck out of there!

Did you move here after that?

No, I immigrated to Kenya in ’94. My friend, Habtom Debessai had a band in Nairobi, and he just pushed me up on stage one night. It was my first time doing a song in public — this was May 1995 — and my whole body was shaking! I remember it so clearly, it was Eritrean Liberation Day, May 24th, and I did a song by Yemane Barya, who was an Eritrean legend who died in 2001. He was like James Brown to Eritrea — great music and a big personality. So I came to Toronto in November ’96.

What was your first impression — cold?!

(Laughs) I was really arrogant when I first got here. My brother and sister had moved here already, and my sister met me the airport, and she brought me a big winter jacket. I refused — I was like, I’m not gonna wear that, fuck that! I took two steps outside Pearson Airport — two steps — and I ran back inside and begged her for the coat. And if you remember the winter of 1997, there was no snow, so I didn’t see snow until Feb. ’98. At first I was like, hey cool! But then I got sick of it real fast… like, this sucks!

What did you do when you first moved here?

I worked at the Petro Canada gas station at Jarvis and Wellesley. The boss was a prick! You can print that. I didn’t know my rights. He charged us $5.00 for gloves he bought at the dollar store. But then I met a guy when I was working at the gas station, he got me a job in security, then I got to move into private investigation. I was hired to go to bars and check for honesty, to see if bartenders were ringing in the drinks people ordered or keeping the money for themselves. It was great, I never had to pay for a drink myself the whole time I worked for him!

That sounds totally crazy. So how did you get involved with the music community in Toronto?

There was this restaurant at Queen and Parliament called Hata-Hata, it’s called African Village now. Another guy named Biniam, he had a krar, but nobody played it. I tuned it and played it for him. The next day, he brought 20 people over for beer and gave me the krar to play. We have a tradition, where you sing and mention your friends’ name, and they throw money at you as encouragement. Well, all 20 guys were throwing money at me! At the same time, I wanted to go to school, so I enrolled at George Brown for graphic design and advertising. But the OSAP wasn’t enough, so my friends encouraged me to sing for extra money. The first stage I played was a restaurant called Salaam, now called Adam (at Bloor and Ossington) in summer ’99. The money was good! After that, people pushed me to jam, and I ended up doing two to five songs every weekend there, and I was finally hired as a house musician. But it wasn’t until 2004 that I played outside my own community.

How did that you make that break?

I met Nadine (McNulty) from Music Africa. Before that, my confidence was not enough to really sing on stage. And nobody was pushing me outside. So Nadine was talking all about Afro-Fest, and soon I started working with Waleed Abdulhamid from the group Radio Nomad. He’s a guy who’s been in music almost 30 years. And he threatened me: he said, “do this or don’t!” So in ’04 I played Afro-Fest (in Queen’s Park) and the reaction was way beyond my expectations. I started playing the krar, and everyone was like, “What the hell is that?” The first minute of being on that outdoor stage playing was very hard, but then I got over it and after that I was relaxed and confident. The highlight was that there was an Ethiopian singer, Neway Debebe, performing on the same stage later the same day, and he was famous when I was kid. I used to think, when can I be like this guy? And that day, I got a "wow" from the crowd — a “wow” like I used to see him get when I was a kid. That really boosted my confidence. After my first Afro-Fest apperance, I started working with Nouvel Exposé Dance Troupe, and had a chance to play various events for more mainstream audiences, like the show at the Gladstone last month.

So what kind of songs do you play — traditional Eritrean songs, or more modern stuff?

I play a mix of traditional and modern. It’s like the difference between country and new country. The way I play is different, but I don’t know what to call it, I just say it’s more “fun.” The beats are faster, so you gotta move, there’s too much bass! I write my own music, too. Five out of the nine songs on my new CD are mine. The proceeds from the CD I’m donating to Eritrean orphans, since my Dad was an orphan. So it’s my first CD, and I’m thinking of calling it Natey, which means “mine.” There’s a song called “Natey,” which is a love song kind of like that Paul McCartney/Michael Jackson song (“The Girl Is Mine”), so Natey refers to my song, my first CD, and my part to help out these kids.

Did you grow up listening to much Western music?

I grew up listening to AC/DC, Krokus, Def Leppard… that heavy rock stuff. Then my friend introduced me to country music. He wanted to teach me to learn English. It’s easier to learn English from a Randy Travis song than “Highway to Hell”! So there’s a little bit of blues and country in my current sound. But I can’t classify it. You know how on MySpace they give you the choice of all those musical genres? I picked “Other.” I like collaborating with different musicians, which is why I can’t say my music is geared in one direction. I have to go further to define my music. Maybe in three years I can tell you what to call it!

by Jonny Dovercourt