Photo: Forro In The Dark

Toots & The Maytals @ BB King's Blues Club

Only in the US of A would waitresses brave the skanking stage-front pit, hoisting ice buckets of beer high over heads, unflappably taking orders as the arguable originator of reggae music itself plays a conquering sold-out gig, just down the street from Times Square. BB's is usually a tabled venue, but not tonite, as veteran singer Toots Hibbert and his Maytals take the stage in front of a baying crowd. A stage invasion is unavoidable, as the Jamaican powerhouse seems to extend his set via the device of simply playing each hit number in a ten minute version, complete with endless chorus repeats and band vamping unto eternity. He's clearly feeding off the Rabelaisian aura that's dampening the air, sometimes strumming acoustic guitar, but mostly bounding across from far left to far right, a stocky bundle, reaching out to his welcoming fans. He's had over four decades at the top of the reggae peak, but Hibbert's key songs remain the oldest ones: Monkey Man, Pressure Drop and 54-46, this last stretched out as an encore in what felt like a thirty minute version (at least), time enough to fight through the masses, heading for a leisurely unburdening of a screaming bladder in The Room Of Rest, then returning without missing any crucial developments, as Toots jogs around with boundless energy, working his followers up into a sodden climax. Party rules applied to the evening, with the only negative comment being that the band sounded strangely muted at certain points between the main Toots vocal marathons.

Chiwoniso @ Joe's Pub

Although of Zimbabwean descent, the singer Chiwoniso was actually born in the States, and has recently settled in California, which must seem pretty laid back in comparison to her increasingly troubled spiritual homeland. For her New York debut, which happens to be the first date on a Stateside tour, Chiwoniso has assembled a new band and rehearsed them over four days (or four-and-a-half, as she's keen to correct herself). This overly chatty background is just one element of the performance that imparts an inexperienced hesitance that's strangely feeling like slack attention to entertainment principles rather than first-night nerves. This is surprising, given that the band appears to be angled towards a heavily Americanised version of the traditional Zimbabwean sound, doubtless targeted at mass acceptance. It's also surprising, given that the gig has the feel of a label showcase. Why isn't the progress punchier? Instead, it's annoyingly dithery. Chiwoniso already likes to sing in English, and who can restrain her? Just a bunch of world music purists. Her voice is strong and expressive, but underused in this setting, equal with the volume of her sister and brother, who are also sharing the front line. There are too many break-offs into between-song rambling, which might be intended to make things personal, but ends up making the show feel raggedly unprofessional in its presentation. It hardly feels like she's delivered more than a handful of songs, and then there's doubt over whether the band can continue, partly because of starting late, and partly due to too much talk. The songs attempt a sturdy funk pulse, with keyboards and guitar solos weighing in heavily. Something is missing: partly the fact that Chiwoniso adopts the wrong form of nonchalance, and partly because she's set on diluting the very song-forms that presumably attract a so-called world music audience. Perhaps she's aiming for a broader platform, but the problem there is that she would then have a whole host of mainstream R&B artists to compete against. It might be predictable to say this, but the opening solo spot, with Chiwoniso singing and playing mbira thumb piano was probably the best portion of the evening. She presents herself as Zimbabwean, acts like an American, and has even picked up elements of a Cockney accent somewhere down the line. Such is the increasingly variegated existence of the typical 'world music' performer.

Forro In The Dark @ Nublu

Every Wednesday night, New York's best Brazilian band (and they could easily combat most of that land's native combos too) plays at Nublu, surely one of the city's best clubs. This East Village den is habitually devoted to all possible manifestations of danceable jazz, from electro to free improvisation, Latin to lounge. This week, though, the band are invading Friday night, and finding a new crowd who perhaps don't know their music, but are just as willing to dance. The excuse for the party is that mainman Mauro Refosco is heading out on David Byrne's mega-tour, so this is a waving-goodbye show. Refosco sings and rains tight blows on the zabumba marching band drum that's slung around his neck: Forro In The Dark's roots might lie in the hardcore folkloric sounds of north-eastern Brasil, all tingling triangles, hard flutes and fractured beats, but they also feed in spiralling electric guitar lines, amassing a heady degree of 1970s loon-panting (perhaps I'm giving the wrong impression here), filling up with the funk. This is Brazil's extreme side, unlike the preponderance of spuming bossa-jazz acts or pan-Latin puffballs that can dominate the circuit.

Tidawt @ Highline Ballroom

The stream of Saharan combos continues, but each of them tends to adopt a differing stance, finding new ways to make their African 'blues' connections with a Western audience. Tidawt (meaning 'together') come from Niger, and their signature style is roughshod for maximum authentic trundle, whilst also adopting certain rock'n'rollin' traits that make them more accessible. It's a mistake to arrive early for the opening documentary screening, as it's a fairly nondescript Tuareg desert nomad travelogue effort, with a French language soundtrack, sans subtitles. Matters improve once Tidawt take to the stage, apparently before the film's finished. Perhaps they're getting impatient too. Formed fourteen years ago by Hasso Akotey, this has left ample time to fully entangle their guitar lines, keeping percussion down to a drum rhythm that doesn't alter much throughout their entire set. It's repetitive and compulsive, acting as a base for the more varied guitar parts. If a band is going to use a similar beat throughout, it helps that it's as nimble as this one. The motion is one of steady swaying, and Tidawt work from a fairly sedate audience reception up towards prompting a reasonable amount of dancing activity down at the front. By this time, they're inviting up a pair of guests: blues guitarist Ladell McLin and saxophonist Tim Ries, the latter having been a member of the Rolling Stones horn section for the last decade. Many audience members might have drifted off, but it was this climactic run of songs that impressed the most, building up to a body-centric pulse.

Vieux Farka Touré @ Highline Ballroom

Less than a week later, at the same venue, the African blues rears up again, although only tangentially. The Malian singer and guitarist Vieux Farka Touré's music isn't so markedly steeped in that tradition when compared to his deceased father Ali's output. Instead, Vieux is equally open to funk and reggae, but still clutches onto his homeland's traditions without making any concessions. The pulsating influence of his dance remix album is banished tonight, but Touré is finding other influences to spread throughout his songs. Only a few weeks earlier, he was a guest frontman in the James Brown-in-Africa project headed up by hornmen Pee Wee Ellis and Fred Wesley at Lincoln Center's outdoor American Roots festival. Vieux might not possess the mysterious charisma of his father, but he has an outgoing confidence that highlights a completely different set of qualities. Thankfully, his commercialisation of Malian guitar stylings is successfully negotiated.

Viva Patshiva @ Drom
Drom is a newish club in the East Village, dedicated to music from all parts of the globe. As part of its extensive Droma Gypsy Fest, local NYC combo Viva Patshiva offer up their rock opera Reasons To Live. This performance concept could entail a grisly experience. Not all 'rock operas' have been compulsive listening, to say the least. Fortunately, Viva Patshiva turn the experience into a grittier bout of bawdiness. Much of their song-cycle deals with the cynical side of love, or even the cynical side of lust. They are engorged with snag-melodied songs that will repeat themselves naggingly after only a pair of airings. Bacchanalian gypsy sounds pulse at the heart, but these folks are clearly caught up in punk, ska, jazz and seedy cabaret, all elements of which they knit into a convincingly schizophrenic whole. Patshiva's main weapon is a trio of singers who are all extreme personalities, inflated egos that deliver in-character with complete conviction. Vocalists might have been the weakest element here, if they were too pompous, too prim, or too schooled in conventional opera. Instead, these band-fronters look to have a history of burlesque and heavy metal, or even burlesque heavy metal. Credit must also be given to writer David Jenness for the sharpness of the lyrics. This is a club version of a work that usually exists in a theatrical space, so its two halves were bound into a single set, and the cast of players and dancers were slightly reduced in number. Even so, this was totally suited to a knees-up in the smaller space of the Drom stage.