Ali Farka Touré

Ali Farka Touré was one of Mali's best-known musicians, and rightly so.  A dedicated musician with a unique, instantly-identifiable sound, Touré put out numerous solo albums, as well as collaborative works with American bluesmen Ry Cooder and Corey Harris, guest tracks for singer Boubacar "Kar Kar" Traoré and balafon-player Kélétigui Diabaté, and two excellent duo albums with Mali's own kora virtuoso Toumani Diabaté, both Grammy Award winners.  A polyglot, Touré spoke Fula, Songhai, Bambara, French and (I would imagine) at least some Tamashek.  He also amazed the world music crowd when he backed Toumani Diabaté on their two collaborations, playing dozens of traditional Mandé melodies from an entirely different musical tradition than his own.  Among Malian musicians, notorious for their mutual "treachery" (janfaya in Bambara), Touré left behind an impeccable reputation as a kind and gracious individual, generous with his praise of other musicians.  Finally, in the last part of his life Touré owned Mali K7, the country's foremost legal CD production facility and was named mayor of his hometown of Niafunké.  

This week, I'm profiling two of Touré's best albums, Radio Mali and Niafunké.  Both appeared on the excellent Nonesuch/World Circuit label in the late '90s, and they showcase Touré's range, from solo songs to full band numbers, acoustic to electric.  Touré accompanies himself on both albums with guitar and n'jarka single-stringed violin.  The songs on Radio Mali are culled from recordings made at the Office de Radiodiffusion et Télédiffusion du Mali, Mali's national radio and television station in Bamako, the capital, from 1975-1980.  They tend to be spare and acoustic, often understated duets between guitar and n'jarka, in perfect counterpoint to Touré's dry, even hieratic voice.  Niafunké, in contrast, is plugged in and immediate, uncompromising in its groove.  Hand-claps, djembe drums and electric bass all revolve around Touré's wailing electric guitar.  There are some slower, and sweeter moments to Niafunké, though; the sentimental "Cousins" (about Mali's ethnic Tuaregs) and the n'jarka/djembe rocker "Jangali Famata" highlight Touré's acoustic chops.  

For the dedicated Ali-phile, there are plenty of other albums to be enjoyed (notably Ali and Toumani and his early Yer Sabou Yerkoy), but for newcomers to his music, these albums are highly recommended.  Whether you understand a word of what he's singing or not, Touré's music is infectious, instantly drawing the listener into a new, welcoming sonic world.

A final note: there's some wonderful free recordings of Touré accompanying the famous Timbuktu singer Khaira Arby available on the blog of Music Time in Africa, a long-running radio show on Voice of America.  Check it out.

Tabaski

Hello! It's been a few weeks since I posted, so this will be a little longer than normal.

I've been busy playing and listening to music, mostly in the neighborhoods of Djelibougou (home to a disproportionate number of Bamako's musicians) and Hippodrome, site of most of Bamako's nightclubs. Due to the sudden, unexpected death of their elder brother, both of my n'goni teachers (Simbo and Kélémonson Diabaté) have returned to Kita to be with their extended family.  As such, I haven't had much chance to play n'goni, and have been concentrating on the kora.  Given that the kora and n'goni repertoires (at least, of the Mandé/griot variety) are largely similar, I've really been learning many of the same songs I would have on the n'goni.  

One of my goals here in Mali is to immerse myself in the standard repertoire of griot songs, of which there seem to be (by my completely unofficial and unscientific guesstimate) around 40 or so.  These songs all have relatively long and complex histories and associations, both historical and ideological, and are constantly reworked, oftentimes with new lyrics, to create new songs.  Most Malian musicians are more than willing to change the (traditional) title and attribute the 'new' song to themselves on their CDs which means, practically, that the only way to identify them is to know the traditional songs already.  Given that each musician puts their own spin on the song to make it their own, and also that there are many different "accompaniment" patterns and solo melodies associated with each song, I've always found it quite difficult to differentiate traditional songs unless someone names them for me.  In any event, I now have samples of many (possibly even most?) of these core griot songs, and I'll be listening to them intensively over the following months to try to drill them into my head.  We'll see if that works!

Last week, I stopped by Mali's largest source of non-pirated CDs, Mali K7, and picked up an even 50 new ones.  They have a varied selection, from the Cuban-inspired bands of the '70s and '80s to traditional singers (Kouyate Sory Kandia, Ma Kouyate, Khaira Arby) to newer acts like Magic System, local mega-stars like Sékouba Bambino and Abdoulaye Diabaté, as well as the obligatory street-level rap and reggae artists.  Guaranteed good listening for the next few months!

Pictured: Loot

To add to the general madness of Bamako, two weeks ago was the festival/feast of 'Eid al-Adha, known locally as Tabaski.  Tabaski commemorates the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son to his God, and his joy at being allowed at the last minute to substitute a sheep instead, a story common to all three of the People of the Book (Christians, Muslims, and Jews).  What this means in effect in Mali is a massive influx of sheep into the capital city, where every family does its level best to buy at least one, and occasionally several.  Sheep markets suddenly sprang up everywhere alongside the main roads, and their bleating became the common aural backdrop of every day (and night).  Along the roads, sheep were herded by old men and young children, dragged by their halters, trussed up on top of public transport busses, pulled by their horns, smacked ineffectually with sticks, and constantly yelled at.  My favorite mode of sheep transport was by moped.  I managed to get a photo of the sheep below which, contrary to my expectations, turned out to be alive and attempted to bite its captor as my taxi passed at break-neck speed).  

A sheep in every pot

Little did I know that my kora teacher, Toumani, would also be bringing his back in similar fashion!

Toumani with his Tabaski sheep

I passed the actually day of Tabaski with my host family, visiting and receiving visitors and numerous phone calls, and eating mutton with every meal.

I'll try to update in the next few days with a review of a Boubacar Traoré concert I saw last Saturday, as well as some more pictures of Bamako street-life.  Until then, here's a picture of two of my teachers listening to field recordings of themselves made not ten minutes before.  How cool is digital recording?

Simbo Diabaté and Toumani Kouyaté