It has been more than five years since we’ve heard new music from Oumou Sangaré, the queen of Malian Wassoulou music.  During that time, she has opened a hotel in Bamako, undergone the loss of her beloved father, and spearheaded the launch of a new, Chinese-built model of SUV in Mali, the OumSang.  She has also grown substantially as a musical creator.  Oumou has always taken her time creating new music, but Seya is by far her most expansive and ambitious work to date.  She reaches far beyond the conventions of her Wassoulou sound here, incorporating elements from a variety of other West African traditions (Senufo balafon, Mande guitar and ngoni, Wolof sabar drums, to name a few) as well as flavors from further afield (Will Calhoun, Tony Allen, Pee Wee Ellis, and more).  In all, some fifty musicians participate on these eleven tracks, under the inspired direction of Sangaré, her longtime champion at World Circuit Records Nick Gold, and veteran Malian producer Cheikh Tidiane Seck, an architect of the Rail Band sound and much of Salif Keita’s work.  

The songs on Seya are deliciously complex, both musically and lyrically.  “Sounsoumba” opens with dueling pentatonic balafons (Neba Solo and Souleymane Ouattara) and a chicken scratch guitar—a bit of a tease as guitar largely takes a back seat on this album.  The ensemble comes together in a quick unison intro riff, and drops hard and fast into a roiling groove, layered with choral voices, all a setup for Oumou’s supremely relaxed vocal entry.  Midway through the song, Oumou soars into her high range, shadowed by an overblown flute, and the effect is electrifying.  The song’s lyrics forcefully reiterate a message central to all Oumou’s work—the right of women to be happy.  The sounsoumba is a kind of tree, and Oumou artfully uses the metaphor of a tall tree to signify a strong and fulfilled woman.

There is much to unpack in each of these songs. “Kounadya” (a call on the fortunate to share) unfolds with a rich, urban sound that echoes Cheikh Tidiane Seck’s long experience merging West African tradition, pop and jazz. “Wele Wele Wintou” excoriates the practice of forced marriage in a churning, dense sonic groove powered by kamelengoni and djembe drum.  The funky title track merges 6/8 and 4/4 time into a happy brew as Oumou toasts her loyal audience in Mali.  No less than four guitarists lace these rich mixes with tasty ornamentation, ranging from a strummed acoustic guitar to heavily processed jazz-fusion fuzz melodies, but they never stay long before slipping beneath the waves of Oumou’s sonic ocean.

For all the blending and layering going on here, this is a deeply traditional album.  On “Sukunyali,” Oumou sings in Soninke, praising Maure immigrants from Mauritania in their native tongue, while Bassekou Kouyate channels the sound of the great griot Banzoumana using his big, deep-pitched ngoni.  Midway through the song, a Soninke griot speaks praise for Oumou.  On “Iyo Djeli,” Oumou assumes the praising role herself, celebrating the life of Djekani Djeli, “an old and wise griot woman of the 1960s.”  The song’s concluding swirl of percolating percussion, swooning Arabic strings, and punchy brass work led by Pee Wee Ellis is a highlight of the album.  On “Donso,” perhaps the most heartfelt song, Oumou digs deep into Wassoulou hunter’s lore in a slow, donso ngoni-centered meditation.  As she catalogues the body parts of a slain animal and describes how each will be used, an unusual male chorus answers her.  Oumou celebrates the great men of Wassoulou, but the song is centrally about her departed father, Bari Sangare.  Never has Oumou delved so deeply into the soul of Wassoulou as here.  If we have to wait another five years for Oumou’s next studio creation, no matter.  We’ll still be chewing on the bones of Seya.  

Contributed by: Banning Eyre for www.afropop.org