This is a CD I reviewed a few months ago that never ran. Thought it could use the space to breathe…
Amadou and Mariam
Welcome To Mali
One with any musical knowledge whatsoever knows that the term ‘African Music’ is a misnomer. It’s difficult to assemble 72 uniquely different countries, each consisting of hundreds of tribal rhythms and melodies, into a single sound that makes sense. It’s as stupid a description as ‘world music’, or even ‘British music’. But for the uninitiated, 2005’s Dimanche I Bamako by Amadou and Mariam, a blind Malian couple who have been playing in West Africa since 1974, blended traditional and contemporary sounds well enough for the Western world to embrace it as the quintessential African album. Manu Chao’s production glossed up Amadou gorgeous, sandy guitar tones, but the heart of the music, a desert-blues pioneered by Ali Farka Toure and other Malian Taureg guitarists, remained the focal point. It was a corker of an album, one that straddled both continents with panache, becoming one of the best selling African albums ever.
Now, three years later, Amadou and Mariam are global stars. They had a number one hit in Germany, performing the World Cup Theme, and have opened for the Scissor Sisters and Damo Albarn, among others. So, utilizing their newfangled global prowess, more stars are roped in on Welcome to Mali to guest, including Mr. Albarn on production duties, venerable Canadian-via-Somalia MC K’Naan to rhyme and Manu Chao to sing. Still, amidst all these heavyweight performances, Welcome to Mali focuses its talons strictly on Amadou’s guitar and Mariam’s vocals, producing another joyous, ebullient set of Malian meets Western corkers. Much like Dimanche I Bamako, Welcome to Mali is full of sing-a-long moments in a language few can sing, powerful blues drenched guitar solos and tasteful, almost perfect vocals. After Albarn’s production contribution, the swirling electronic ‘Sabali’ the desert blues takeover, wielding its muscle through the driving political romp, ‘C’est ne pas bon’. Amadou’s tones, often dulcet and scoffed with sand, as if each note recalls the dusty history it’s influenced on. The accompaniment is progressive, as Mariam’s vocals are pushed through vocoders, djembes squawk alongside traditional trap sets and synths cramp the melodies, but aside, Amadou’s guitar remains fiercely traditional through ‘Djama’ and ‘Je Te Kiffe’.
And it continues from there. Instead of fighting against each other, Welcome to Mali marries the traditional with the contemporary, showcasing how similar our sounds are when they all work together. ‘Africa’ is a pulsating romp assisted by K’Naan, albeit negligibly, while ‘I Follow You’, the only English sung track (minus moments on its follower, the equally brilliant ‘title track’) is heavily orchestrated, almost classical at times, as violins push aside scratched acoustics while drums push aside djembes, but to glorious results. It’s respectful, climactic and, most importantly, utter joy to listen to.
Whatever fan of music you are, this album should continue Amadou and Mariam’s ability to unify African sounds with the west, without compromising the histories and traditions that framed it before any of us ever noticed. It’s not perfect, nothing is, but musically, this is about as close as it gets.