April 12, 2002

Photographs and review by Banning Eyre.

Youssou N'Dour's annual Grand Bal Africain has become a fine New York tradition. Two years ago, he played an extra-long, African style show at the Hammerstein Ballroom, and the city's large Senegalese community turned out in force. Last year, there was some disappointment when N'Dour played the hall for only about 2 ½ hours, so this year, he and his incomparable 9-piece band, Le Super Etoile, pulled out the stops, playing super long sets on both Friday and Saturday nights, April 11 and 12.

Afropop Worldwide caught the Saturday show, arriving at midnight, shortly after the band hit the stage. Percussionist and vocalist Mbaye Dieye Faye sang a few numbers to warm up the large, 95% African crowd, easily 2000 people. At about 12:30, Youssou hit the stage with a smoldering rendition of his 1984 ballad, "Immigres." Then it was right into the fray with a slamming "Beykat," one of the best tracks on N'Dour's most recent international release, Joko (Nonesuch, 2000). Soon after that, N'Dour delivered a long, tuneful take on "Ligeey" from that same release. Then he spoke to the crowd, in English. "New York," he cried, "It's going to be your night. Twenty-four songs. Twenty-four!"

By my count, it was actually 17, but the show ended after 4:00 in the morning, and nobody was complaining. Fans who know only N'Dour's international releases had to wait until the twelfth number to hear another familiar song, his much recorded mega-hit, "Birima." Otherwise, most of the set came from N'Dour's Senegalese volumes, especially Rewmi (Jololi, 2000) and the new Batay (Jololi, 2001). "Moor Ndaje" from that new release was particularly memorable, with guitarist Jimmy Mbaye digging deep into the low strings to capture the earthy feeling of a doso ngoni, hunter's harp. (For readers who may have heard this reviewer taken to task about African harps on NPR recently, I do in fact know what a doso ngoni is. Fear not!)

Most of N'Dour's set was full-crank mbalax, featuring long, dynamic percussion exchanges between talking drum maestro Assane Thiam, and the two sabar drummers. The band was in fabulous form, but then, they always seem to be. N'Dour danced, pranced, leapt and twirled, and he sang with a fury through most of the long set. He has an uncanny ability to make the most gut-wrenching vocals sound utterly joyful, and by the second hour, we were in the grip of collective ecstasy. Virtually no one left until the show was over. When N'Dour finally left the stage, the drummers got down, and Mbaye Dieye Faye guided a series of mostly drop-dead gorgeous young women through butt-swiveling stage performances. "Bing, bing!" he would chant, and the dancer would time her gyrations to two cracks from the sabar. "Bing, bing, bing!" Three cracks. And so it went for a good twenty minutes. There were no encores from this star, but there was no doubting that everyone had got what they came for.

This was an African music show you'd normally have to go to Africa to see, generous, relentless, late, and completely magical.

Contributed by: Banning Eyre