"Waruna"

A singer from and a guitarist from join forces for a free-spirited collaboration that has less to do with traditions and nationalities than with musical personalities.  Julia Sarr is Senegalese, but 25 years working as a singer in Paris has paired her with everyone from Papa Wemba and Miriam Makeba to MC Solar and Jean Jacques Goldman.  She comes to this project after a long stretch working with Congolese vocal maverick Lokua Kanza, who has definitely opened up new expressive pathways for African singers, especially those based in Europe .  Guitarist and composer Patrice Larose is principally steeped in jazz and flamenco, although he has worked with Brazilian singer Marcio Faraco and with Senegalese griot Leîty M’Baye, who makes a cameo appearance on this album.

From the opening track, “Namana,” it’s clear that neither Sarr nor Larose is much interested in genres or formulas.  Cajon, calabash and tama drum converse freely in advance of Sarr’s nuanced vocal entry.  Larose soon joins with a cycling pattern that interweaves the percussion to create a subtle, elusive groove.  In under four minutes, Sarr evolves from a kind of vibrato-rich, R&B ballad vocal to a full-on, griotic belt worthy of her countryman Youssou N’Dour.  N’Dour himself joins Sarr on one of the album’s moody ballads, “Set Luna Djamondodji,” which begins with solo guitar, hinting at bossa nova, and ends with Sarr and N’Dour intertwining their voices through a complex, pensive melody.  Throughout, Sarr displays a magnificent, multi-textured voice that has retained colors from all the various musical genres she has sung, but is beholden to none of them.

There is a lot of brooding in these songs, although some of the most appealing ones are warmly melodic, like “Waruna” with its rolling 12/8 feel, and flashes of real flamenco.  Or “Nimala Djuré” which juxtaposes flamenco palmas (clapping) with Sarr in her rawest, most Senegalese-sounding vocal.  “Yow Laï Xar” also begins with lyrical sweetness, although Sarr departs from that to reach for a gut-wrenching, anguished interlude that feels a little jarring in that context.  Such is the unusual charm of this session.  Two artists are allowing themselves to follow their muses.  Perhaps one senses that both have long been in the shadows and are now eager to spread their wings.  These twelve, spare pieces, including two instrumentals by Larose, are impossible to categorize.  They are certainly far from flamenco or any variety of Senegalese traditional music.  This is, for lack of a better term, contemporary European songwriting—in short, music that must be taken on its own terms.

Contributed by: Banning Eyre for www.afropop.org