Review and photographs by Banning Eyre.

Baaba Maal's long awaited acoustic tour debuted this past weekend at Joe's Pub in New York. By accident, as it turned out. The tour had been scheduled to start the night before (January 11) in Boston, but thanks to a strike at Air France, that performance was postponed, and Maal and his five accompanying musicians came more-or-less straight from the airport to the stage for their Saturday night set in New York. Any worry that the performers' recent arrival might compromise them was quickly dispelled when the music began. But the show was delayed, and complicating matters, Air France still had the band's baggage, including Kaounding Cissokho's kora (Manding harp), a crucial part of the acoustic group's sound.

The calm way in which these six musicians proceeded to reduce the full house at Joe's Pub to tears of joy and roars of ecstasy--despite the lack of rest, and a kora--is testimony to their supreme talent and also their ability to improvise, a skill that is both a musical tradition and a way of life in West Africa. The band performed three consecutive nights at Joe's Pub, and Afropop Worldwide recorded every note. We also brought 40 of our friends to the show in an auspicious launch for our new Club Afropop series. (By the way, they had the best seats in the house.) Highlights from those recordings are featured on a very special Afropop Worldwide program that airs on public radio stations on or after January 18.

By the second night, Cissokho had borrowed a kora from New York based musician Peter Fand, and the band reverted to its original plan. But that first show included treats all its own, including Maal's longtime friend and collaborator Mansour Seck singing a spectacular lead vocal, and also a performance of the haunting a capella song "Diahowo (The Traveller)," a highlight on Maal's landmark 1991 acoustic release, Baayo.

With soundmen scrambling, Maal built his ensemble gradually that first night, beginning with an achingly beautiful solo rendition of "Baayo." Immediately the rationale of Baaba Maal performing acoustic music was obvious. Maal's voice is quite capable of commanding its place in his full electric band, Dande Lenol--that was never in doubt. But with the music pared down to simple string melodies, that singular, keening voice takes on a new quality, a power to move directly from his soul into yours. Heads were nodding the moment he finished the number. Maal had already won the night, despite the still scrambling soundmen.

Song by song, Maal built up his ensemble. First to join was Mansour Seck, and guitars in hand, Maal and Seck performed as a duo, the way they did in the early days of Maal's career. A 1980s recording of the two became Djam Leelii, the album that launched Maal's international career. Cissokho joined next, looking a tad forlorn without his kora, but contributing beautiful, high vocal harmonies. They sang the folksy, nostalgic "Jamma Jenngii (It is the Night)," a kind of ode to lovers and a sweet spot on Maal's 2001 acoustic release, Missing You (Mi Yeewnii).

Up to this point, Maal's clear, confident guitar finger picking was the mainstay of the music. But as the remaining musicians took the stage, the jangle of strings heard on Baayo and Missing You began to infuse the air with its own magic. Elhadj Niang plays bass in Dande Lenol, and here he filled that role using a guitar-style acoustic bass. Barou Sall plays the small spike lute called hoddu in Pular (xalam in Wolof, ngoni in Bambara). And, the most formidable guitarist on stage, Mamadou Gaye, is a Fulani man who became obsessed at an early age with Manding guitar, and learned to play the style as well as all but the very best Manding guitarists in Mali.

With the full group assembled, Maal moved into more material from Missing You, "Fanta (Spirit of the River)," and "Kowoni Maayo." On the song "Jeeri Kollé," Maal featured Barou Sall on the hoddu, singing musical phrases for Sall to repeat. With Dande Lenol, Maal always does this with the talking drum, but now the answers came back as percussive, plucked melodies rather than volleys of rhythm.

When the instruments fell silent and Maal, Seck, and Cissokho took on the eerie, close harmonies of "Diahowo," the audience was spellbound. Those elemental voices tore through the air with ritual force. It's a long song, recounting the events of a journey through the Fulani lands of West Africa, and everyone present had experienced their own spiritual journey by the time it ended. Then the group resumed in force with "Tiedo," a stirring, heavy, historical song about the human capacity to survive war.

After more than an hour-and-a-half of music, there was no time for an encore. Joe's Pub had another band coming up and a line of patrons out in the cold on Lafayette Street. But it was one of those times when the audience feels so blessed by what it has seen that to demand more feels almost greedy.

On Sunday night, the band had done a sound check, Cissokho had a kora, and the pacing of the show was flawless. When the full group sounded together, the interplay of guitars, hoddu, and kora completely fulfilled the promise of Maal's legendary acoustic studio recordings. And the audience came unglued. Maal soon rose to his feet in a gold robe, like a merry king holding court. With Cissokho taking the lead, "Fanta" blossomed, and "Allah Addu Jam" turned into a rousing string band jam. Late in the set, led by a few Senegalese in the audience, people began to dance. It was one of those rare times when a band with no percussion instruments at all serves up such a lively rhythmic mix that people can't help dancing.

On the final number, Maal brought Seck, who is blind, to his feet and put his arm around his friend's shoulder. The two stood to receive a special swell of applause from an audience that was as near to rapture as any this reviewer has seen. The three nights at Joe's Pub were nothing short of a triumph. Those who had waited to see Baaba Maal perform with an acoustic ensemble were both elated and whetted for more. Anyone who ever doubted whether the acoustic group could deliver the fire of Dande Lenol had their fears put soundly to rest. The question now is will Maal's audience ever let him perform any other way again?

For more on the making of Missing You, see Afropop Worldwide's July, 2001 interview with Baaba Maal, available on the homepage.






























Contributed by: Banning Eyre

First published: www.afropop.org