Live Review: WOMADelaide

At the media call, in the morning before the festival begins we are greeted by Emel Mathlouthi, a young Tunisian singer who's Kelmti Horra became an anthem for the Arab Spring. Here with only an acoustic guitar she plays a remarkably powerful take on Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, confessing it's very different than what she normally plays - but she loves the song so much. There is an aching power in her delivery, a certain strength tinged with sadness – particularly for someone so young. This sense also infuses her Arabic songs, creating a peculiar minimal sound that marries electronic and vaguely trip hop pulses with violin and drums yet it's all about her remarkable voice. We may not understand the words but the emotion is palpable.

It's a point taken up by Portuguese fado singer Carminho a couple of days later at her artist workshop, where she explains the origins of her music. "You need to understand the energy of the words to express them properly," and that's what we're responding to, her depth of feeling. As she sings with only an acoustic guitar to back her, without the words we're left with her emotion, and you can feel her longing, her saudade. She feels, and we do too.

WOMADelaide is about the power of music, as a form of social cohesion, to bring people together, to uphold traditions, to pass on stories, or simply shake your ass and celebrate life. It's a cultural exchange and it's a remarkable feast for the senses.

It can be jarring though, particularly initially. One moment you're in Zimbabwe with the hyper energetic playfulness of Mokoomba, then a few minutes later you can be grooving to the smooth jazz sounds of Cuban pianist Roberto Fonseca (who incidentally pulled out the only kora of the festival). The adjustment takes time, so many styles, so many approaches, so much culture, so much to consume. But there's so much time too, with multiple performances over various days, as well as workshops and interviews. It takes days to integrate all of this and find your rhythm, but that's part of the joy.

When asked about the struggles facing Nigeria as the kookaburras call late on Sunday afternoon, Femi Kuti admits he gets overwhelmed. “But I have 6 beautiful children,” he offers, "and when one of them says daddy I love you I just melt...then I can wake up the next day and fight."

Struggle too permeates the music of Melanesian ensemble Airileke, made up of artists from PNG, Manus Island, West Papua, Australia and the Torres Strait. Airileke is actually one of the members, a percussionist and producer perhaps best known for his collaboration with The Avalanches DJ Dexter in krump band Grilla Step. On the Friday night, he and his group perform traditional log percussion and dances as part of their workshop involving the audience with some fairly provocative dance moves involving guys thrusting and chanting and women jiggling beside them. "I suppose you want me to wiggle my tits" offers one disgusted participant before storming off. The next day in conversation Airileke is asked why only men are drumming. “Traditionally a lot of its been men's business, but that is changing,” he offers, pointing to Drum Drum, a band he set up with his sisters, that have since inspired other female drummers from Manus Island and PNG. Change is coming, but it's slow. That's the thing about culture, it's not static, each one of these steps is part of the evolution. The Morning Star, the outlawed West Papuan flag features prominently in their performance. They speak of the Indonesian occupation, of being forced to speak a language of their oppressor and of intimidation and political assassinations. Later on the big stage in a highly choreographed dance routine they unravel the Morning Star, before strangely enough delivering an incredible fusion of urban sounds like hip-hop and traditions. It's a strange mix but it works.

As the days and nights of 30 degree plus temperatures in the park begin to take their toll, the music continues to transport us to other places – some of them cooler. Like the throat singing Mongolian folk band Hanggai who effectively blend rock stylings and traditional instrumentation, taking listeners to the grasslands of Inner Mongolia. Then there's the quite grace and centuries of traditions inherent in the Persian sounds of Mehr ensemble, who offer some much needed tranquility, before surprising with a double drum piece designed to sound like a steam train beginning its journey. Then there's the jester, the man The Clash wrote Rock The Kasbah about, Algerian Rachid Taha delivering a big band rock show complete with strut and Elvis covers in French and Algerian.

One of the unexpected highlights is party band Red Baraat's infectious mix of North Indian Bhangra beats and swinging jazz. It's big bold brassy with a bass that kicks you in the teeth courtesy of the mighty sousaphone. Hailing from Brooklyn they sound like a mix between a New Orleans marching band and the explosive unpredictability of a Bollywood soundtrack. Your brain explodes and your ass shakes.

And on the ass shaking tip, Belgium/Colombian ensemble La Chiva Gantiva bring the party approaching maraca shaking with a machismo more in keeping with a hard rock act.

When it gets late the turntable fusions begin and the party really starts descending into a hedonistic orgy of writhing bodies crying out for beats and for the night to never end. It all gets a bit blurry then, first DJ Yoda's stylistic mash ups, the next night Awesome Tapes From Africa's obscure grooves and Quantic's incredible cumbia and 70's funk experiments.

WOMADelaide has always been a mélange of cultures and sounds. By day four it becomes all about the vantage point and the convergence of unintended sounds and actions, a kids cricket match high in the hill on stage three provided with the overwhelming gravitas of The Balanescu Quartet's mournful strings. Or Pakistani Qawwali singer Asif Ali Khan's music, which provides a backdrop to all manner of domestic dramas, involving a woman with a camera perched on her hat who refused to be seated, a dwarf and an agitated volunteer. Did their music provoke these reactions? Would they have happened regardless of the band? Who knows? Their highly improvised performance was without doubt one of the most powerful of a festival that just keeps giving.