“It’s clear that it’s inspired by rock music,” says Mali’s
international star Rokia Traoré of her new album, Beautiful Africa. “But
I didn’t want to make rock and roll in the Western tradition…I wanted
something that’s rock and roll but still Malian and still me.”
The past year has been a quite extraordinarily productive period for
Traoré. One of the most inventive female singer/songwriters in Africa
today, she is remarkable not just for the range of her powerful and
emotional voice but also for the sheer variety of her work. She has
written three wildly different new sets of music: the acoustic Damou
(Dream), the often bluesy Donguili (Sing), and the rock-influenced Donke
(Dance), in which she set out to show “three different aspects of
Malian culture and my own personality.” Produced by the UK’s prestigious
Barbican, all three were performed at different London venues in one
week last summer—a feat she repeated at this year’s Sydney Festival in
Australia. She has toured Britain on the Africa Express train, stopping
off around the country for concerts that included collaborations with
Damon Albarn as well as Paul McCartney and John Paul Jones, who joined
her backing band for the London finale. And she has continued acting as
well, with British and European performances in Toni Morrison and Peter
Sellars’ much-praised theatrical/musical re-working of the Shakespearian
story of Desdemona, for which she wrote the music.
Now comes Beautiful Africa, an album of the powerful new songs, first
heard in her Donke project, reminding listeners it was rock music that
first inspired Traoré’s remarkable career. “I really like rock,” she
said, “and it was because of rock that I wanted to play music.” When she
was growing up, an older brother used to play her Dire Straits and Pink
Floyd. “It wasn’t all I listened to—I discovered jazz and blues with my
dad, and Malian and other African music, and French chanson, but it was
rock music that made me want to learn guitar.”
There are three guitarists on the album, including Traoré herself,
but though the record is constructed around rock riffs and sturdy bass
work, it still has a distinctively West African feel, thanks to rousing
performances from Mamah Diabaté on the n’goni, the ancient, harsh-edged
African lute. It’s an instrument that Traoré has used in compositions
throughout her career, and she argues, “You can put it with everything.
I’ve used n’goni in classical music projects, and it goes with blues, or
jazz, or rock and roll. It’s a great instrument!”
Traoré’s changes of musical direction usually start with “a sound
that I imagine…a sound inside my head.” She didn’t want to imitate what
other people had done “because I need to do what I imagine—that’s the
reason I’m making music.” But she needed someone to help her create the
sound that she imagined, and eventually decided on John Parish, the
writer, guitarist, and producer who has worked with Tracy Chapman, Eels,
and PJ Harvey.
“I chose to work with John,” she says, “because when I listened to PJ
Harvey or his other work, it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but I could
imagine what the man who made this sound could do with me if we
collaborated on my music. I was curious about it, but not sure about
getting what I was imagining.” During the recordings, she said “he just
asked me to listen to things and make my choice, and sometimes when I
didn’t like or understand something, he changed it.” And was she happy
with the results? “This is what I wanted to make and I’m happy. It’s
even more than I imagined.”
Traoré, Parish, and Stefano Pilia play guitars on the album, with
Nicolai Munch-Hansen on bass, percussion from Sebastian Rochford (Polar
Bear), ‘human beatbox’ effects from Jason Singh, and n’goni playing and
backing vocals by fellow Malian musicians Fatim Kouyaté and Bintou
Soumounou, both members of the Foundation Passerelle that Traoré
established in Bamako, the Malian capital, to help her fellow Malians
prepare for careers in music and sustain the growth of Mali’s rich
musical culture.. Traoré was awarded the inaugural Roskilde Festival
World Music Award in 2009 for her work with the Foundation.
The songs are in the West African language of Bambara, as well as
French and occasional bursts of English, and the often personal lyrics
are concerned with Traoré’s thoughts on her own life, and on her
tragically battered homeland.
Mali is a country that has become known around the world for its
extraordinary musicians—from Traoré through to Amadou & Mariam, Ali
Farka Touré, Toumani Diabaté, Fatoumata Diawara, Tinariwen, Bassekou
Kouyaté, Oumou Sangaré, Afel Bocoum, Salif Keita, among others—and was
once a great tourist destination, famous for the desert cities and for
the Niger river, as well as the celebrated Festival in The Desert. But
over the past year it has slipped into political chaos, with the
President overthrown in a military coup in the capital, and rebel groups
taking over large sections of the north of the country. The rebels then
splintered into different factions, with those initially fighting for
independence in the north usurped by extremist Islamist groups, some
linked to al-Qaeda, and who went on to ban music in the areas they
controlled. Military forces from France, Mali, and other African nations
have fought to repel these advances.
The album’s title track, built around the sturdiest rock riff on the
album, is very much a love song to “battered, wounded Africa,” and
reflects Traoré’s despair and fury at what has happened to her country,
while commenting on problems elsewhere in Africa, from Ivory Coast to
Congo. “The flood of my tears is in full spate, ardent is my pain,” she
sings, while arguing that, “Conflict is no solution…Lord, give us
wisdom, give us foresight.”
Other songs on the album include the thoughtful ballad “Sarama,” a
praise song to Malian women, partly sung in English, and the personal
“Mélancolie,” a surprisingly upbeat song about loneliness and sadness
that has already become a radio hit in France. Traoré says that she was
lonely as a child, partly because her father was a diplomat and
constantly on the move, and partly because she was the middle child in a
family of seven.
Another, more upbeat song, “Sikey,” is also autobiographical, looking
back at the criticism she received when she first set out to become a
professional musician, and her determination to keep going. After all,
she was not a griot, from a family of traditional musicians, but the
daughter of a diplomat. And although she had no musical training, she
gave up her studies in Brussels to return to Mali to create a new form
of music, in which her songs would be backed by her acoustic guitar,
along with n’goni and the xylophone-like balaba balafon, two instruments
not normally played together in Africa.
Her breakthrough came when she was hailed as the ‘African Discovery’
of 1997 by Radio France Internationale after playing at the Angouleme
Festival, in France, and since then she has continued to experiment and
explore new ideas. In 2003, her album Bowmboï included a collaboration
with Kronos Quartet and was awarded a prestigious BBC Radio 3 World
Music Award. Her 2009 album Tchamantché reflected her new fascination
with the Gretsch electric guitar, and won a Victoires de la Musique, the
French equivalent of a Grammy, as well as a Songlines Artist of the
Year Award for Traoré.
She has twice collaborated with the maverick director Peter Sellars,
who in 2006 invited her to write and perform a work for his New Crowned
Hope project, celebrating the 250th anniversary of Mozart’s birthday.
Traoré replied by imagining Mozart as a griot in the time of the
13th-century African ruler Soundiata Keita, whose empire was centred in
what is now Mali. She also recently collaborated with Nobel
Prize–winning novelist Toni Morrison and Sellars on the theatre piece
Desdemona, bringing an African dimension to the story of Shakespeare’s
tragic heroine. The piece premiered in Vienna in the summer of 2011 and
received its New York premiere at Lincoln Center that fall; its UK
premiere was at the Barbican in London in the summer of 2012. The
Guardian called it “a remarkable, challenging and bravely original new
work.”
It was the experience of acting in Desdemona, she says, that led her
to create the Damou (Dream) project, performed in London last year, in
which she showed her skills as a storyteller, as well as a singer, with
her version of stories from The Epic of Soundiata, dealing with events
leading to the birth of Africa’s legendary ruler. These are stories that
would traditionally be told by Mali’s griots—indeed, Traoré said she
could only create the show because she has been learning from one of
Mali’s finest female griots, the singer Bako Dagnon.
Rokia Traoré is indeed a remarkable artist, and it is difficult to
think of anyone else who can switch from ancient Malian culture to
acting and then to African rock and roll. She will be touring Europe in
May, performing in Desdemona in Amsterdam and Naples in June, then
returning to Europe at the end of June for what promises to be a
memorable treatment of the new songs from Beautiful Africa during a run
of summer festivals, including Glastonbury and Roskilde.
Robin Denselow
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