The second release from Madagascar's most adventurous and visionary valiha player finds him at the helm of a tight, lyrical 4-piece ensemble, delivering some of the sweetest, most polished music to be heard from this island famed for sweet and polished music. The tubular valiha harp is the symbol and soul of the highlands folklore of Madagascar's Merina people. But in Rajery's hands, it becomes a truly universal instrument. Rajery delivers the courtly, waltz-like sound of the highlands, as on "Vonjeo," a prayer from an artist to his God, and the racing triplets associated with party music all over this vast, diverse island, as on the instrumental "Realy." But he goes further. "Mainte" is a haunting adaptation of a traditional song from the south, arranged in two alternating rhythms. And many of these songs are simply Rajery's compositions, rich in folksy, singalong melodies and tumbling, friendly rhythms.

One reason Rajery seems so keen to forge his own way could well be the fact that he is probably the only one-handed valiha player on earth, and as such, is forced to approach the instrument differently. This may have to do with the album's title, Fanamby, which means a challenge. But it feels almost gratuitous to bring up Rajery's childhood handicap here. The sophistocated conception and musicianship he demonstrates on this album set it apart from all other valiha recordings, and that would hold true even if Rajery had three hands.

The ensemble work here is impressive. Bassist Toty doesn't show off his monstrous chops much. He just keeps the grooves fluid and lively. Guitarist Razanakoto picks his way masterfully through Rajery's valiha grooves, and along with percussionist Rakotoarisoa, sings gorgeous harmonies on Rajery's unforgettable refrains. Rajery is far more of a player than a singer, but the superior choral work between the tree singers here sets his solo passages up nicely. Rajery sings and plays alone most affectingly on "Gasikira," a song that dreams about peace and solidarity in Madagascar. Given recent political divisions there, this track must play as a sweet balm.

The one danger here is that things could become too sweet. Rajery's music is overwhelmingly pretty. At the same time, there's an air of melancholy here, and combined with cracking rhythms, and spirited musicianship all around, the album mostly manages to avoid blandness and sentimentality. This is a landmark valiha recording, but also a creative milestone for acoustic Malagasy music in general.

Contributed by: Banning Eyre for www.afropop.org