A rougher, more urgent take on desert blues, this live performance by the Malian guitar hero Bounaly crackles and frays with frantic energy. Put it beside the double-tapping pyrotechnics of Mdou Moctar, and it sounds almost punk. Listen to it after the nodding, swaying grandeur of Tinariwen and feel the adrenaline surge. It’s clearly from the same general West African tradition, but hopped up and aggressively, defiantly joyful. Bounaly has been through a lot to get here—rural isolation, poverty, tribal violence and more. Now it’s Sunday afternoon, relatively calm and in the company of friends. Is it too much to ask that you get up and shake your ass?
Bounaly hails from Niafounke, a small town in central Mali best known as Ali Farka Touré’s birthplace. It’s a town that’s famous for music, where music is a key part of the local economy. Touré, for instance, used part of his earnings to pay for an irrigation system; he’s been the mayor of the town. And yet even here, where everyone understands the spiritual and commercial value of music, factional violence has turned things upside down. Bounaly fled to Bamako when war in Northern Mali spilled over into his hometown.
Dimanche á Bamako documents the way that the dispossessed come together, far from home, to celebrate the sounds that they grew up among. On Sundays in Bamako, people gather in squares and streets and courtyards around make-shift sound systems as immigrant northerners let their desert sound rip.
And rip it does—with a vengeance. “Wato To” takes shape above the murmur of audience members, its guitar licks searing, its rhythmic pulse driving and strong, a thread of melancholy woven through its hip-moving grooves. The sound quality isn’t perfect, but this somehow adds to the charm. Guitar solos flare in mid-flight into frantic buzz, like a phoenix catching fire to live one more time. About halfway through the cut kicks up a notch, both in tempo and in energy, pitched drums rattling, guitar spiraling, Bounaly shouting and grunting and yelping in increasingly frantic bursts. You can’t hear this part without picturing bodies in motion, arms raised, hands punching, a sea of cathartic gesture, of communal release.
Bounaly has his lyrical side. “Ma Cherie” unspools in languid eddies and swirls of guitar, the vocals full of longing. But it, too, catches fire mid-cut, in a burst of trebly, quick fingered shredding that rachets up tension in stair steps, higher and higher and higher, before subsiding into a liquid groove. But it’s the antic, manic, speed-addled rushes like “Mali Mussow” that really stand out, where the band is playing as fast as it can and the people, you imagine, are hopping frantically to keep up. It’s like the world is after them, and maybe it is, and only music can magic the danger away.
I went to see Lulla, who's wearing nylon
I went to see Bajou, the situation is hard
I went to see Soro, then went back from Soro's
I went to see Mizgawa, she's seated and elegant
I went to see El-Xafra, where the pious do their ablutions
I went to see Tina, she says "there's no more"
I went to see Abnousou, it was raining
I went to see Rati, a girl with temper
The West African country of Mali is a birthplace of the blues, a musical tradition later carried by the transatlantic slave trade to America's cotton fields. Yet today, the music and musicians of Mali are in grave danger. As fundamentalist Islam and sharia law become more widespread, dance and secular music are prohibited, musical instruments are destroyed, and musicians are forced to flee their homeland.
The vibrant documentary MALI BLUES follows four artists: Fatoumata "Fatou" Diawara is a rising star on the global pop scene (memorably featured in Abderrahmane Sissako's acclaimed drama Timbuktu). Bassekou Kouyate is a celebrated ngoni player and traditional griot. Master Soumy is a young street rapper influenced by hip-hop. Ahmed Ag Kaedi is the leader of the Tuareg band Amanar and a guitar virtuoso. Each combines rich musical traditions with contemporary influences, using their music to stand up to extremism and inspire tolerance and peace.
vimeo
+ A shameless display of the time I watched and enjoyed Ahmed Ag Kaedy's music ✨
Listen to how much Mississippi bluesman Junior Kimbrough and Tuareg band Tinariwen capture a similar feel
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGqOsiFwyq4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ix76SFstT0I
Leeds’ most mysterious outfit MABGATE bring together ethio-jazz, desert blues and retro soul to create a sound reminiscent of BADBADNOTGOOD, Khruangbin and Surprise Chef on their new single ‘I Asked’.