"N tesse"

Mali’s maverick singer songwriter Habib Koite released his first CD, Muso Ko, in 1995.  In the twelve years since, he has added just three more, (not including a live album, Foly, in 2004).  The wait for this set of new songs has been long, six years.  Koite says he and his band has been touring so extensively that there just hasn’t been time to “retreat and reflect.”  His songwriting breakthrough came when he started traveling with a laptop equipped with the Apple program, Garage Band.  Suddenly, late night, hotel room ideas could be preserved, interrupted, resumed, and gradually developed into demos of complete songs. 

The eleven pieces here are the work of a meticulous, maturing songwriter.  They make a sharp contrast with the high energy stage performances captured on Foly.  It’s not just that the new songs are entirely acoustic, often with light, calabash percussion rather than bass and trap drums.  They are also reflective, introspective, even melancholy at times.  The subject of the ambling “Mali Ba” is the greatness of old Mali, and the importance of caring for it, but the feeling in the vocal is more brooding than inspirational.  The best songs here have jewel-like intricacy, like “N’Ba,” a reggae-tinged celebration of motherhood, deeply informed by Koite’s mourning of his own mother, who died in August, 2005.  “N’tesse” offers one of the sweetest vocal melodies in Koite’s canon.  The song is a peon to “the big Malian family” which rallies in solidarity when there is marriage, birth, or death.  And “Namania,” an adaptation of a story from Koite’s own Khasonke folklore, balances a lyrical verse with a trenchant rhythmic chorus, spiked with the sharp vocal inflection of young, female, griot singers.

Koite’s trademark exploration of Mali’s other ethnic traditions continues with great results.  “Barra” evokes the confluence of the Peul and Sonrai people of Niafunke, and features members of Afel Bocoum’s group, notably the late Hassey Sarré on njarka (fiddle).  The song calls for less talk and more action.  Better still is Koite’s remarkable collaboration with Minianka traditional musicians from the Sikasso region in southern Mali.  This group plays antelope horns, one note per player, and percussion that overlays to generate a hypnotic, polyrhythmic groove.  Koite’s lyrics build on the group’s traditional song, exploring the scrutiny a young woman’s father applies to her perspective husbands.  Koite’s lyrics are full of jokes and humor, but again, the melody feels more pensive than playful. 

There are two instrumentals, a plaintive solo rendition of “Titati,” a Manding love song, and a percolating take on the Bamana classic “Fimani,” featuring solos from Koite on guitar, Boubacar Sidibé on harmonica, and the venerable Keletigui Diabaté on balafon.  Only “Massakè,” an ironic number casting children as the kings of households, hints at the rhythmic heat that Koite’s group, Bamada, can deliver on stage.  Koite predicts that these songs will evolve, and potentially change significantly when performed live.  But all that comes later.  His purpose here was to craft songs of fragile intimacy, with beautifully balanced, acoustic sounds, organic arrangements, and deeply personal vocal performances.  No doubt, some Koite fans—myself included—long for an album that showcases the upbeat dynamism of Koite’s band.  While this is not that album, it is fine work from one of Africa’s most forward thinking songwriters.  Koite continues to bolster his status as dean of the ongoing African acoustic music movement.

Contributed by: Banning Eyre for www.afropop.org