Message from Mali

I want to tell you a story. A few years ago, I was at the Bonnaroo music festival in Tennessee. I think it was the second day into it. I had been walking around the grounds for hours, the heat was pushing the 100's, and there was dust everywhere. I was undernourished and overstimulated. Beat, in other words.

But that evening, I found this little, out-of-the-way tent removed from the main action. Inside, I saw a black couple on stage, both wearing sunglasses, surrounded by their band.

This, I would later learn, was Amadou & Mariam. But at the time I wouldn't have the faintest idea. What I did soon realize is that the band could fucking groove. The guitars were spiky and cyclical, and the rhythms were like somebody who took every disco beat ever and then stripped, painted, polished and revamped them for maximum urgency and ass-shaking abandon.

I stood there, soaking in the first ripples of their sonic wave, and suddenly I realized I was bouncing up and down on the heels of my feet. I didn't want to-- like I said, I was tired. Nor did I intend to bob my head, clap my hands, snap my fingers, or finally dance like an over-medicated chihuahua. I really didn't feel like doing any of that. But I had to, man. The fuckin' music had got ahold of me.

This is our couple under discussion:

and they are awesome. Our Mr. Amadou Bagayoko met Ms. Mariam Doumbia at Mali's School for the Young Blind in Mali's capital, Bamako. After realizing they shared an interest in music, the young couple grew up, fell in love, got married, and started playing the kind of spicy Mali soul-blues groove that could grow grass on dancefloors.

I have their debut album, Dimanche a Bamako:

And I only have one complaint about it. You notice that rather conspicuous "GUEST STAR MANU CHAO" sticker on it? Well, the guest star has a nasty habit of hogging up the scenery. Anyone familiar with Chao's sound on Proxima Estacion: Esperanza will recognize this album right off. The incongruous snippets of dialogue, the ping-ponging guitar dioramas, the tinny, toy-like drums that sound like they come out of a wind-up fast-food prize-- yup, they're all here, and in my opinion they detract.

Well, maybe the production sound is exactly what it's supposed to be. If this were an overblown monster of a trance-beat beast it would have no innocence. (I've noticed the music of King Sunny Ade, another Afro-beat phenom, has a similar modesty. Music like this is intricate and organic, of a more quiet grandeur. A tree instead of a skyscraper).

That being said, if these two ever come to your town, see them live. You won't regret it.