When Sarah Carabott meets Janice Spagnol and Denise Vella – an għannejja and an għana guitarist respectively – she is left intrigued by the young, feminine twist they have given this local form of singing, which echoes the Maltese roots of poetry and seemed to be the domain of melancholic old men. She learns għana has no gender and that these ladies are doing their utmost to keep it alive.

  The word għana evokes images of a tanned man, his fists curled, clenching onto his black vest. Donning a crispy white shirt, his head leans to one side, as if to hear the accompanying guitar music better. As he straightens, and his chest props up, a string of high-pitched, melancholic poetry leaves his cracked lips. Squinting under the unforgiving sun, he fills every crevice with folk music, dating back hundreds of years.

But għannejja Janice Spagnol and għana guitarist Denise Vella paint a completely different picture. They offer a young and feminine twist to this local form of singing that echoes the Maltese roots of poetry.

The women communicate in code. Denise, 37, asks: “Do and Re?”

Janice nods, and as Denise caresses the guitar chords, she cups one hand in the other, tilts her head slightly to the left and sings of għana, women and pride.

Janice, 18, comes straight to the point: għana has no gender. In fact, one type – tal-banju – originates specifically from women’s custom to converse with each other across rooftops, while doing the laundry.

Nevertheless, it’s not the first time gender issues crossed their minds. When Denise was younger, she used to accompany her father on several radio programmes, but she used to refer to herself as “Dennis” lest schoolmates got to know that she – a young girl – was a folk song player.

On the contrary, Janice was encouraged to participate in numerous school concerts, accompanied by her father.

As the years rolled by, the women were faced with mixed reactions, but nothing stood in their way to make għana their own.

They speak of it with the same look as a mother speaks of her decorous son, who’s come out of school and landed the respectable job she knew he would. It is an extension of themselves they can never part from. There’s no Janice ta’ żeppi Spagnol iż-żejtuni and Denise ta’ Kalċ without għana.

Both women inherited għana from their immediate family, and both want to – rather than feel obliged to – pass it on to the next generation. For them, għana is not just a means of relaxation, but it is a family heritage. It branches out from deep in their roots. Għana is a “family thing”.

Janice remembers her father ġużeppi, hopping from one bar to another, nurturing his folk singing talent. Back home, he’d practise folksinging with his son Kevin, Janice’s elder brother. Għana was something she woke up to and got back home to.

One fine day, when Janice was just seven years old, she sprung on her father and brother, who were practising a couple of lines, and started singing. Her father beckoned her closer and asked her to sing out loud a piece of scripted għana. She obliged, without any hesitation.

“You’re folk singing,” he exclaimed, delighted. Janice never looked back, and has since even started playing the guitar.

Denise, the daughter of Kalċidon Vella ta’ Mustaċċa from żabbar, hails from a family of guitarists, who accompany għannejja. Although her grandfather Stephen was a classical music guitar player, her father took after his uncle, who played għana music. Contrary to classical music, għana music is not read from a musical score, but relies on a person’s ability to ear tune and synchronise with the singers.

Her love for music emerged when she was five… although she admits that when she touched the guitar for the first time, she mistuned it. Seeing her love for the musical instrument, her father started teaching her to accompany għannejja. In the meantime, Denise passed on her love for għana music to her younger brother Mark.

Since then, the two women – whose paths crossed when Janice was still a kid – have grown up into recognised għana practitioners.

“Although we were both born into għana, which was ingrained in us during the first years of our lives, refining our skills is a continuous process… and it is not a simple task.

“It’s something you can practise, but not something you learn by heart, and every performance is different from the other as it relies on adjusting to whoever you’re accompanying.

“The għannej might even switch from one style to another, so you have to instinctively feel where they are taking the song, and go with them,” Denise explains.

Għana comes naturally for both women. It is something they do at home, out with friends, or with family. But they both know that just like the Maltese language, għana evolved over the years and it needs to keep adapting. And that’s what they are determined to do!

Denise has through the years played with guitarists, who started to infuse għana with blues and flamenco music.

The elegant, soft-spoken woman specialised in accompanying għana singers and playing what are known as prejjem. But two years ago, she took the next step – and a new role – joining an all-women group at Għanafest.

Denise looks forward to the event “just like the Brazilians look forward to Carnival”, and she wants to keep specialising in prejjem, especially because she knows of only one other woman who does so.

Għanafest has also become a festival Janice looks forward to. It was during one of these events that she was first invited to give għana a contemporary, colourful twist: in the 2010 Għanafest edition, Janice took the traditional folk song to a place it has never been when she accompanied the hip hop band No Bling Show.

The young folk singer and Jon from No Bling Show wedded the traditional għana and hip hop styles.

Janice’s bright eyes grow as she relives the evening: reluctant at first, she soon realised her “plunge into the unknown world” breathed fresh life into her beloved għana.

“I didn’t think it would work out, even though we discussed what we’d do beforehand… but then… when we took to the stage… the audience went mad,” she smiles.

“The number of young people who attended, probably because they were as curious as we were about this experiment, was incredible,” she adds.

Her venture into the unknown has given Janice more confidence that għana can be kept alive, despite its traditional and old connotations.

“It would be a pity if we lost it. Why do some people kick it aside? Għana is no dishonour. It is a form of expression just like any other form of classical singing,” Janice insists.

“Għana is a form of Maltese expression… a unique form of Maltese expression… just like flamenco is a form of Spanish expression. And we should cherish our unique folk song style, just like the Egyptians, Sicilians and other Me­diterranean count­ries cherish theirs,” Denise adds.

But despite the two young women’s enthusiasm and buoyancy, a sliver of disappointment can also be sensed.

“People can lift you up, or smash you with a single word, but we’re definitely taking għana with us into the future. Għana is timeless, and we’ll make sure it remains so,” Janice adds.

She looks at Denise, and again, without having to utter a word, it seems as if the two women know what is going through each others’ minds.

Both know that għana, stemming from the deepest Maltese roots, has withstood the test of time. Both know it goes beyond the common misconception that it is a world dominated by melancholic men, singing their heart out at boċċi clubs, Buskett and Argotti Gardens.

And both know they will not let their beloved għana pass away.

Today’s three main għana categories:

Spirtu pront [quick wit] is an improvised song duel between two għannejja, which usually lasts an hour. Generally, two song duels are held simultaneously, the first singer matched against the third, the second against the fourth. This gives each singer more time to compose a response. Usually, the subject emerges early in the encounter itself, with the singers provoking their adversary into taking up an argument about which they are more knowledgeable, because once a subject is taken up, it cannot be changed without losing face.

Tal-fatt [factual] is a pre-composed narrative and usually involves one għannej, who is often the composer of the lyrics. The subject may be tragic – like a cruel death – or comic, as in teasing the mother-in-law, based on actual facts, or imagination.

Fil-gћoli [high-pitched] is a style of high vocal singing, with repetitive and allusive lyrics. While the other two styles are driven by verbal play and narrative, this style favours the voice’s musical qualities as the song develops in melodic contours over the regular pulse of the guitar. 

Għanafest 2012

This year’s edition of Għanafest, organised by the Malta Council for Culture and the Arts, will include Maltese folk singing and Moroccan, Greek and Spanish music. Held at the Argotti Gardens in Floriana between June 8 and 10, it will also host a series of workshops on traditional instruments and an array of traditional Maltese food. The Maltese representatives include Nisġa Project, which is an upbeat programme of world music, infused with Middle Eastern influences, flamenco, jazz and local, traditional instruments. Tickets cost €3 for every night, which starts at 7 p.m., or €7 for a three-day block ticket. www.maltafolkmusicfestival.org

This and more articles appeared in Pink magazine, published with today's The Times.

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