The Female Voice

The traditions of African music run back millenia. In the unfolding of history, most African cultures have relied upon tramsmission of musical history through special social structures—often the patriarchal inheritance of the cherished position of griot: musical leader, historian, and mystic. But that's a dramatic oversimplification, of course. The patriarchal role may represent a stereotype, but it's not a rule.

The role of women in African music is as varied as the cultures on the continent. But in many cases their talent as vocalists is prized as a vehicle for self-expression. They might not play the drums, but women have found many other niches. The theme of this installment is the female voice, framed in settings ranging from the ultra-traditional to the neo-futuristic. The fact that it takes center stage becomes liberating for both performer and listener.

In the culture of the Kel Tamashek, nomads of the Saharan desert, certain instruments are reserved for women. They also sing beautifully, as immediately becomes clear on the first record under review. The mostly female group known as Tartit draws upon deep roots to liven up a distinctive signature sound with traces of Arab and West African elements. Their first US release has an elemental simplicity that remains convincing in every sense of the word.

Jump ahead a millenium and you have the cultural collision between Malian vocalist Mamani Keita and British producer Marc Minelli. First and foremost—without exception—Keita's vocals sail brightly across this record. Minelli has the good sense to build his electronic architecture, loose and swinging as it is, around her crisp and well-grounded voice as a centerpiece. Keita's voice has a timeless quality that suggests ancient and modern at once; Minelli's production brings a range of styles together for this pop-jazz-electro fusion. Curious mix, interesting results.

Finally, Bill Laswell starts with the brilliant Ethiopian vocalist Gigi, whose message he framed in a virtual world of settings on her self-titled debut—and takes her apart completely. Put back together again, all the pieces that formed the original whole assume a new identity. That new entity has an undulating, gentle, reverberant nature. Completely kid-safe: no sharp parts or dangerous objects here.

Tartit
Ichichila
Network
2003

This is a very mixed up world. Witness evidence direct from the miniscule but relatively well-publicized third annual Festival in the Desert, held this January in a Saharan oasis called Essakane. That's near Timbuktu, which is in Mali if you didn't know. Groups from all over the country joined like-minded spirits from France, Mauritania, Niger, and the US for three days of musical celebration. Midway through the last day, Robert Plant stepped up to sing "Whole Lotta Love." Now is that weird or what? Never mind the camel parade, the camel race, or the sand hockey. This was an experience few would forget.

The mostly female group known as Tartit performed on the first day to an eager reception. The group essentially formed in a Burkina Faso refugee camp from desperate survivors of a terrible drought and civil war. According to Mama Walet Amoumine, "We are almost all from the same family. We are cousins." They performed their first gig at the Voix des Femmes festival in Belgium and the brand new Ichichila (recorded in Mali, of course) is their first and only US release.

The nomadic Kel Tamashek from the international region around Northern Mali are also known as tuaregs, the "forsaken of God," to Arabs—but they prefer the more accurate term that emphasizes their common language. In a region where society tends to be male-dominated, Kel Tamashek women play forward and outspoken roles. Thus Tartit. Their music is built from group vocals, centered and organized by the imzad (one-stringed gourd-fiddle), tehardent (three-stringed banjo), and tindé (small wooden mortar covered with goatskin)—with plenty of well-timed clapping.

"Iya Heniya," the second track, tells the story of a woman whose husband forsakes her for a mistress. During the choruses, the higher lead voice sings straightforward, understated lines with occasional trill-like embellishments. Her call is always accompanied by a lower-pitched group response, call-and-response in its simplest and most direct form. The next song has a North African flavor, more trance-like in its square rhythms and repeated (male) chorus, more aligned with the minor harmonies that come from Arabic music. Later, an electric guitar—gasp! but wait, this is a mixed up world—emphasizes the very strong blues character that pervades much of this music. Not many chord changes, and certainly no 12-bar forms, but nevertheless a strong groove and that same sense of directly stated emotion.

In the end the thing that makes Tartit stand out is the unique identity the Kel Tamashek have carved out in the Sahara, drawing from Arab and West African sources, Islam and other beliefs, plus their own ancient history and distinctive culture. It's impossible to define Ichichila on any terms except for its own. And that's reason enough to check out this group.

Mamani Keita & Marc Minelli
Electro-Bamako
Palm Pictures
2003

Electro-Bamako lies at the intersection of three musical styles: traditional Malian vocals, electro-pop, and jazz (more or less in that order). That may sound like an impossible combination, but between the voice of Mamani Keita and the hands of producer Marc Minelli it turns out inspired and fresh.

Mamani Keita, formerly a backup singer to Malian vocal star Salif Keita, brings an exuberant touch to Electro-Bamako, forming the essential foundation around which the rest of this music is constructed. During production, Keita and Minelli bounced tapes back and forth in order to reach a proper synergy. The rest of the record is cut from samples, keyboard performance, and various electronic creations. Opening with a harmonized horn section (yes, that's a baritone sax in there) swinging gently along a reggae groove, Keita's voice is like honey. It stands in contrast to the relatively staccato drum hits, the pulsing throb of the saxophones, and spice-like conversational snippets. Taken as a whole, the sum accurately projects the spirit of the record. It's light, warm, clever, and pulls an unexpected swinging energy right out of thin air.

The shiny sweep of the piano introduction to "Mirri Ye" mirrors Keita's vocals, which reflect from all different angles. A busy, up-tempo snare-based rhythm manages to simultaneously recall blues-like foundations from Malian music and generate a swinging pulse. Relatively sparse overall, the piece takes maximum advantage of the raw elements from which it is drawn. Later adventures veer into textures closer to pop or electro, always structured around the chorus-verse format. But there's very little repetition among these pieces. Some are easier listening than others, and some go very light on the jazz element. Then again, that sounds an awful lot like Bill Evans on the intro to "Abdoulayi Djodo."

The closer aligns itself most closely with Malian tradition, using sounds from the (xylophone-like) balafon and something resembling a (lute-like) n'goni. Its explicit respect for Keita's roots makes no apologies for the delicate manipulations which frame her words in a new light. It's a suitable ending for a syncretic experience which manages to bring cultures together without compromising their strengths.

Visit Palm Pictures on the web.

Gigi
Illuminated Audio
Palm Pictures
2003

Producer Bill Laswell caused something of a splash when he introduced 27 year-old singer Ejigayehu "Gigi" Shibabaw to the world on her self-titled debut. Gigi's voice, with its incredible range and depth, served as a natural centerpiece for him to promote—but in the end Gigi was fully a Laswell production. He bathed her voice in sound, refusing to subtract her Ethiopian roots from the equation but surrounding them with funk, Indian music, dub, jazz, and various other styles. Certainly there was no shortage of star potential, with Wayne Shorter, Pharoah Sanders, and Henry Threadgill on board—just in the saxophone department.

Now two years later, with Gigi out front in so-called "world music" circles—plus those influenced by Laswell's enormous range of collaborators—we have a remix. Illuminated Audio draws all of its starting material from Gigi, with no new instrumentals or overdubs. Bill Laswell is again at the helm, and despite its formal credits the record is all Laswell.

Some listeners find "reproduction and mix translation" a tedious and perilously self-referencing approach, and from a certain perspective it makes sense to look down upon the outright recycling that's responsible for this record. But if you're willing to accept the fundamental "rebirth" logic of dub and hip-hop, there are many nuggets to be found here. (They do tend to be buried in extremely thick, jungle-like textures of sound, however.)

Mostly hovering in the edge of introspection and gentle reflection, the moods on Illuminated Audio range from the completely wide-open optimism of "Nafeke" to dark and mysterious clouds of "Abay." A very strong dub sensibility has taken over the record, as on many of Laswell's reconstructions: he layers many fields of sound, establishing a lush backdrop upon which to erect constantly reverberating rhythms and echoing leads. The gentle rolling pulse that propels this music occasionally lights up (as on "Tew Ante Stew," with its polyrhythms and forward drums) or drops out (as on most introductions and pauses). But like a constant companion, it's never far.

Gigi's voice, with all its versatility and vigor, ends up one more element in the mix. Sure, she takes the lead at times, but so thickly cloaked that her spark diffuses. That's not necessarily a bad thing. You just have to view her as another instrument to be tweaked and reborn amidst the others. In a very Laswellian way.

Tracks and Personnel

Ichichila

Tracks: Aitma; Iya Heniya; Ikbayene; Ichichila; Buloululba; Elan Heyelan; Ofous D'Ifous; Taliyate; Ai Hele Dmahele; Holiyane Holiyana; Tagnanine; Egad Desouf; Hamoye.

Personnel: Arahmat Walit M. Attaher: imzad, tindé, lead & chorus vocals, clap; Fadimata Walett Oumar, Mama Walet Amoumine, Fadimata W. Mohamedun: lead & chorus vocals, tindé, clap; Fatoumata Haidara: chorus, clap. Amanou Issa: tehardent, lead & chorus vocals; Aboubacrine Ag Mohamed: lead & chorus vocals; Ag Mohamed Idwal: tetharden; Mohamed Issa Ag Oumar: electric guitar, lead vocal. Guests (chorus, clap): Walett Oumar Zeinabou; Walett Mohamedoun Zeina; Walett Alhousseinie Fadimata; Habaye Ag Mohamed; Mossa Ag Bausouda; Walett Mohamed Maya; Attaher ag Mohamed; Abdalla ag Amanou; Mohamed ag Attalou; Mohamed Ali ag Assalem.

Electro-Bamako

Tracks: N'ka Willy; Abdoulayi Djodo; Mirri Ye; Macary; Laydou; Demisenoun; Nedjagne; Nani; Djonni; Si Gui Te MoGoson.

Personnel: Mamani Keita: voice; Marc Minelli: production.

Illuminated Audio

Tracks: Abay; Tew Ante Sew; Mengedegna; Kahn; Sew Argeñ; Nafekeñ; Abet Wubet; Guramayle; Gud Fella; Guramayle (slight return).

Personnel: Bill Laswell: reproduction and mix translation; Ejigayehu "Gigi" Shibabaw: all songs. Source material: Gigi.

Comments