Seventy-five-year-old Mozambiquan singer Dilon Djindji was a pioneering figure in that country's urban marrabenta music scene starting in the 1940s. But owing to the difficult conditions in colonial Mozambique and South Africa, where he worked for some years in the mines, Dilon didn't form his own band until 1960, didn't record his first single until 1973, and didn't tour outside his region until the late 1990s, when he went to Europe as part of the multi-generational roots pop band Mabulu. This is his first international release under his own name.

All that makes this collection of 14 short, sweet songs, mostly written in the 50s and 60s, a historic achievement. It is also a beguiling and unpretentious listen, full of open spaces, lilting melodies, gentle rhythms, and a rich chorus of young, male and female voices that offset the old man's spirited croak. Dilon has a distinctive voice, and we can only imagine what it sounded like when he was twenty-five and kicking out the stops in marrabenta speakeasies in Maputo and Marracuene. Today, he has more in common with Joseph Spence than Ibrahim Ferrer; the emphasis is on personality, not precision.

The spare backing and simple arranging here work well. Whether it's the Congo rumba boogie of "Imale Lwe," the "La Bamba"-like shuffle of "Angelina," or the township swing of "Maria Rosa," all the music is rendered with acoustic guitars, hand percussion, and the occasional burst of saxophones, accordion, violin, and harmonica. The harmonizing soprano saxophones on "Maria Rosa" and elsewhere convey the joyful sentiment of old African jazz. Many of these tracks feel like folk songs, like the loping opener "Chanima Maria," a lament about a woman who has lost a child. The listener may not come away with a clear idea of what exactly marrabenta is, or was, but young musicians and a foreign producer (Roland Hohberg, who now lives in Maputo) have certainly done an old man proud, presenting his music with good will and high spirits, and without denaturing or cluttering his work with anachronisms.

Contributed by: Banning Eyre for www.afropop.org