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The Many Faces of Youssou N'Dour
A year ago, Folk Roots Magazine in the UK named Senegal's Youssou N'Dour "Africa's Artist of the Century." Such hyperbole reflects the fact that N'Dour is far more than a golden voice with a knack for a pop hook and impressive sales figures. Over the past three decades, his music has helped to unify once divergent social classes in Senegal, and helped give his nation a world-wide profile. More than any other international Afropop star, N'Dour has shared his good fortune back home, creating a viable recording company called Jololi, and one of the best nightclubs in Africa, Thiossane in downtown Dakar. He is simply one of the most beloved figures in Senegal. A foreign journalist who lives in Dakar recently said to me, "This guy is going to be president someday." Meanwhile, N'Dour is touring the US, including a November 20 date at the Somerville Theatre, in support of Joko (The Link) (Nonesuch), his first international release in five years.
During those five years since N'Dour scored big with his hit duo with Neneh Cherry--a lethargic but affecting ballad called "Seven Seconds"--the singer has released four albums back home. After some early missteps, N'Dour has by now mastered the perilous art of nurturing two recording careers, one for the world and one for the West African market. In Dakar, he takes his band Le Super Etoile into the studio, and they play live, delivering the same electrifying, razor sharp performances that keep audiences flocking to Thiossane any time N'Dour is in town. Jololi releases like Lii!, St-Louis, Special Fin d'Annee, and the brand new Rewmi can be found in West African shops along 116th Street in Harlem, and they represent some of the most exciting music recorded in Africa in the past five years.
N'Dour uses these releases and his gigs to test and shape songs. Most of the eleven tracks polished and massaged into shape for the American release of Joko have been through this process, and the results speak for themselves. The Joko versions are not simply remixes. They are completely new performances, and if they sometimes lack the incendiary live feel of the originals, they are for the most part luminous pop music creations, from the heart-throb soul balladry of "Red Clay," to the whip-snap, thumping groove and seductively layered melodies of "Bekyat." The most obvious difference between N'Dour's two aesthetics is that he filters out a lot of percussion for foreign ears. "Red Clay" closes Joko with a flowing, anthemic feel and subtly uplifting English lyrics, but on Rewmi, it comes across as clattering full-rev mbalax--the percussion driven pop sound N'Dour pioneered in the `70s--and has all Wolof lyrics. Similarly, the moody ballad "Yaama" gets spiked with thorny percussion in its Rewmi version.
There is logic behind all of this reinvention. When N'Dour started out, Dakar sophisticates danced to Afro-Cuban music, while less educated working class folks avoided western trappings and celebrated with traditional sabar percussion blowouts. N'Dour's mbalax created common ground for these two populations. To this day, Dakar youth expect to hear that gnarly weave of percussion even if the song departs from African music norms in its instrumentation, arrangement and melody. On Joko, N'Dour does not deprive listeners of his brilliant percussion section. One track, "Miss," unfolds as naturally as any of his Senegalese recordings, and "Bekyat" features a brief but ear-popping drum workout. But with percussion subdued in the overall sound, the emphasis falls on songs and singing. One N'Dour landmark, "Birima," praises a beloved Senegalese comedian, who died the year after N'Dour wrote the song. "Birima" became a massive hit, which N'Dour has reworked in no less than five versions since, including a warm, radio-friendly take on Joko. The song's cool groove, spiky traditional guitar vamp, sly hook melody, and singing that builds from a whisper to a full-throated gut cry, coalesce in an Afropop classic with universal appeal.
Still, these are tough times for African pop on the global market. N'Dour has found that uniting audiences in Dakar is easier than satisfying fussy big-label producers. The European version of Joko included six tracks that were either cut or substituted out on the American release. Casualties included a duet with Sting, and two rather odd collaborations with Wyclef Jean. A duet with N'Dour's longtime buddy Peter Gabriel, "This Dream," survives, but it is one of the least memorable tracks on Joko. The fact is that despite the sales figures N'Dour wracked up with his Neneh Cherry duet, his appeal is based on his songwriting, voice and band, all of which comes together magically whenever Le Super Etoile take the stage. This awesome, seasoned outfit is N'Dour's greatest creation, and perhaps the best argument for him as Africa's artist of the 20th century.
Contributed by: Banning Eyre First published: Boston Phoenix
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