#2: Ali Farka Touré (1939-2006)

Ali Farka Touré
1 Radio Mali
2 Karaw
3 Bonde (with Ry Cooder)
4 Arsani
5 Keito (with Ry Cooder)
6 Lasidan (with Ry Cooder)
7 Gambari


8 Amandrai (with Ry Cooder)

9 Hawa Dolo


10 Kaira (with Toumani Diabaté)

música de fundo: Ali Farka Touré Gambari

Ali Farka Touré 1939-2006

Ali Farka Touré was a farmer who played music, and not the other way around. He died earlier this month, on March 7th, from bone cancer. He was 66.

"In the West, perhaps this music is just entertainment and I don’t expect people to understand," he once said.

And they never did, even though Touré received two Grammy awards, one for his collaboration with Ry Cooder on 1994’s Talking Timbuktu, the other for last year’s In the Heart of the Moon, recorded with Toumani Diabaté.

Ali Farka Touré was born in Gourmararusse (in the Timbuktu region), Mali, in 1939, into the noble Sorhai family. In Malian society the trade of a musician is usually inherited, and so Touré’s family, who were not professional performers, disapproved of his taking up music. But determined as he was, he began playing the guitar at the age of ten and the following year began playing a single string African guitar, the gurkel, known for its power to draw out spirits. Ali also taught himself the njarka, a single string fiddle that would later become a hallmark of his performances.

It was not until 1956, at the age of seventeen, that Touré truly comprehended his musical mission after seeing Keita Fodeba, a Guinean guitarist, perform live in Bamako. Later on, during a return visit to Bamako, Otis Redding and John Lee Hooker introduced Touré to African-American music. Legend has it that the young Malian first thought Hooker to be playing Malian music, but then realized that the soulful American music had deep African roots. When Mali gained independence from France in September of 1960, the new government created a group called Troupe 117, with which Ali sang, composed and performed as an emissary of the state.

Until 1980 Touré toiled as a sound engineer, always saving his money in hopes of becoming a farmer. Thirty years ago, in 1976, Touré's recording career began in France, but complacent Western ears never paid much attention. Back in Africa, he began adapting traditional songs and rhythms from Mali’s culture into songs written in ten languages. But while touring in the black continent, and occasionally in America and Europe, Touré missed the quiet life of his home and his crops.

During the 1980s Ali Farka Touré remained an obscure player in the background of world music while other African artists, notably Senegal’s Youssou N’Dour – who later recorded the "7 Seconds" hit with Neneh Cherry – and Malian singer Salif Keita, were slowly coming into the limelight. In 1990, Touré abandoned music all-together in order to fully devote his time to the farm in Timbutku, but was eventually coaxed out of retirement by his producer and, two years later, the Malian farmer was recording the Grammy-winning Talking Timbuktu with Ry Cooder. Cooder, the American guitarist known as a member of Captain Beefheart’s Magic Band, had already composed the soundtracks to more than 20 films, including Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas and The End of Violence.

In this collaborative effort, the bluesy kinship between Touré and Cooder is so strong that it seems to dangle from the studio’s ceiling like a psychedelic snarl that then engulfs the rich and rhythmical stringed playing of Touré. Despite the success achieved by the collaboration, the simple man from Timbutku was still fighting off the music industry, unwilling to leave his rice farm in Mali for the length of time required to record an album. Nick Gold, Touré's producer, found away around his artist's domestic duties by setting up recording equipment in an abandoned brick hall in nearby Niafunké, Mali, operating the makeshift studio with portable equipment and powering it with gasoline generators in lieu of the power lines that the Malian countryside simply did not have.

Before he was appointed mayor of the Niafunké region, tackling the ongoing malaria problem, addressing pollution in the region, and establishing a tree-planting project were amongst Ali’s election promises. Finally in 2004, Nick Gold recorded Touré’s first album in five years. Gold invited Toumani Diabaté – the irrefutable prince of the kora (a 21-string harp-flute from West Africa) – for one track, the traditional and beautiful Malian song, "Kaira". Without rehearsing, the duo improvised and the collaboration was so vibrant that Gold suggested they recorded an entire album together.

And thus In the Heart of the Moon was born. The first of a trilogy of albums Nick Gold’s label recorded at the Hotel Mande, the record includes inputs from Ry Cooder on guitar and piano, Sekou Kante and Cachaíto López on bass, and Joachim Cooder and Olalekan Babalola on percussion. The producer took his World Circuit team and their longtime engineering collaborator Jerry Boys (who also worked for Buena Vista Social Club) to Bamako to record Touré’s second Grammy-winning album. In the Heart of the Moon was finished in three two-hour sessions, put to tape in an inspiring place overlooking the Niger River. The most fascinating thing about the album is its spontaneity - only one song required a second take, and then only because it had been interrupted by a rainstorm.

Ali Farka Touré simultaneously had an introverted and a communal approach to music. He seemed to have taken on the flavour of his roots and the tribal music of Mali, yet somehow come out with a new style all his own, an affected playing and singing that will forever comfort the hearts of strangers. At first, we are all strangers to Touré's music, but one listen has the power to transport us into an energy field, allowing us to become part of the experience.

Despite his remarkable flavor, Ali Farka Touré remains largely unknown outside of scholastic circles. Even as his death made a slight stir in the ocean of world news earlier this month, his name continued its slide into obscurity, and his legacy is overshadowed by the simple fact that the masses will someday never again hear Touré's name. They will never know that Touré made strings sound like fresh blood running through the world’s veins. That his music is the warm African sound, the big sound out of the guitar and out of the njarka.

May you forever rest in peace, Ali!

Now the farm is all yours.

SEE ALSO: Afropop.org’s feature on Ali Farka Touré’s death.

SEE ALSO: Wikipedia’s entry on "the African John Lee Hooker".

http://www.lostatsea.net/feature.phtml?fid=4754769954425e0ae92079

Triumph of Lethargy Skinned Alive to Death - Helpless

Make Break



Rating: 9/10

"I'm going back to following out of chairs/ and puking on lampposts". These lines, taken from the Murder City Devils song "That’s What You Get," can attest to the obscure leads Spencer Moody was trailing a few years ago. That he would now record a version of Neil Young’s "Helpless" (with lyrics that read "There is a town in North Ontario/ with dream comfort memory to spare") only proves that an artist may eventually spot in his work qualities that he later rebels against.

Following the demise of the Murder City Devils on Halloween night 2001, frontman Spencer Moody (ex-MCD and ex-Dead Low Tide) asked Corey Brewer if he’d like to start a new thing. The invitation came after Moody saw Brewer performing live with Bright Shiny Objects, but the press release also quotes Moody as saying: "I wanted some one to drink PBR with in my basement". Whatever the reason was, Triumph of Lethargy Skinned Alive to Death is a fine treat.

For someone like me, who loved the Devils and respected Dead Low Tide and Pretty Girls Make Graves (the two projects that ensued after they called it quits), Triumph of Lethargy may sound too arty and disassembled. As a matter of fact, Helpless’ opener "Demolition Man" is the only track that vaguely resembles the cadence of the Devils’ songs, and it’s the only one that has any formal structure at all.

"The Morning Trumpets Failure" feels like a drug jerking through one’s body, with its initial dense voiceover and what appears to be a sampling Neil Young’s words "there is a town". Then comes a sobbing pre-climax dissolving into a lone, aching guitar sound around which a final laugh slowly builds. The guitar parts in Helpless, mostly done by Brewer, fulfil Moody’s initial appeal: to make this "the loneliest sounding record in the world".

Tracked on its own orbit, Triumph of Lethargy is a sterling stew of riffs all bleeding into a sparse, dawdling seizure of audio paintings. "The Salted Ones, Into the Mud" begins with austere, pounding beats and a cavernous male voice, only to penetrate a horror movie-like swirl of demands and laments. To aggravate things further, there’s a contemplative leakage between tracks: as I stated before, "The Morning..." contains a sample of Young’s voice, then comes a song appropriately titled "There Is a Town" and, after a filler called "Intro," the reworking of "Helpless" finally comes.

The choking, imprisoning kicks of "Svevo Bandini" stroll into the pitch-levelled "Salt," which in turn builds into the droning depths of "Sincerely, L. Cohen," a track Mr. Cohen would never pen without a gun to his head. Even after depicting Helpless’s attributes and flaws – and I didn’t find any of the latter – this record remains weird even by anything-is-possible arty standards. Some of the bruised, shattering blips present here sound like the clanks you hear when you pick up a record and settle the needle down. What appears to be technical failure is indeed the bread and butter of this record. And prepare to be shocked: the final track, "The Pleasures of My Life," at times reminds me of the heartbeat heard throughout Sigur Rós’ Ágaetis Byrjun.

Aside from the violin, superb on "I Made a List" and played exclusively by Brewer, the duo that comprise Triumph of Lethargy worked together in a true musical collaboration. To be fair, Brewer is also solely responsible for the sober cover art, which they claim was designed to remind people of the books put out by Black Sparrow Press. For nerds’ pleasure, Triumph of Lethargy recorded and mixed Helpless (which is their third album but the first to be widely available) on a Tascam 4-track and a Yamaha digital 16-track. All things considered, Helpless is one of the most intriguing records ever made by someone schooled in the punk/metal tradition.

http://www.lostatsea.net/review.phtml?id=94373333644159481c242c

#1: "Stars of night turned deep to dust"

1 David Byrne Body in a River
2 Sei Miguel The Tear, The South, The Saint and the Dragon
3 Cat Power The Greatest
4 Pajo War Is Dead
5 Fovea Hex Don't These Windows Open (True Interval Offering)

6 uma colher de jazz:

Oren Marshall 6 (edit)

7 Efterklang Prey & Predator
8 Merz Warm Cigarette Room
9 Buck 65 Kennedy Killed the Hat
10 Charivari Persian Zydeco Gris Gris

11 o coffee breakz recorda:

Neu! Hallogallo

12 DJ Nuts From SP on my 303 (Coffee Breakz remix)

intro vox: Lou Barlow Home
música de fundo: Twinemen Chose Sauvage

Bango - Bango

Shadoks



Rating: 7/10

Yeah, I love exotic music, but I must confess that half of the interest I have for Bango comes from the allure of its rarity. Originally released in 1970, this self-titled, one-off release has since become a point of rivalry amongst collectors. Bango was a psych-infused band that stacked piles of harsh noise against a background of interlocking, appealing rhythms. But they were just that: a "little nobody" kind of ensemble, a little more than the finest band in the neighbourhood.

The essential driving force behind songs like "Inferno no Mundo" and "Only" is their blues-affiliated breed, which puts them as some Brazilian badly-drawn sketch of Led Zeppelin. Maybe the lyrics for "Marta, Zéca, o Padre, o Prefeito, o Doutor e Eu" will puzzle anyone outside the Portuguese-speaking community, but this number is Bango’s quintessential, really: an odd coupling between powerful riffs breaking out in boils, and a notorious sense of humour (believe me, the accent alone is hilarious!). Just a tip-off: "padre paquerador" translates as "dating priest".

There’s no use in trying to break Bango’s sound down into small bits, because theirs is as in-your-face a sound can be, a bit like the hell-raising mentality that drives one to start a riot in a club, scream their lungs out, and then pack up and leave as if nothing really happened. "Motor Maravilha" single-handedly flies the sweat n’ roll flag in the record, while "Geninha" punctuates the signature groove that embellishes the whole deal. And the final track, "Ode to Billy", makes me wonder which records Ozzy Osbourne was listening to before penning Black Sabbath’s hit "Paranoid".

Don’t take the previous inflated lines as a definitive review, though. Bango is far from being the best in their own class (check out Os Mutantes, and learn more about excessive writing and playing), let alone the ambassadors of the country that, in the late 1950s, invented bossa nova. Besides, as I wrote above, I always drool when exoticism enters a musical equation: it’s hard for me to curb the excessive emotional outpourings, which come with music that has the "traditional" tag, written all over the place.

Brazilian art is so rich and diverse that it deserved a whole book instead of a single, dumb paragraph. Always keen to stretch out their artistic range, musicians find no trouble in supplanting the tired models of their sources, be it in jazz, psyched-out punk, or the chart-busting baile funk of today. In a way, Bango’s sound is dated, but it isn't difficult to conclude that the band helped laying the foundation bricks of what later became Brazil’s balls-out brand of rock and roll.

As time has passed, Bango has indivertibly built an interesting hype around it, and aptly deserves the reissue it is now getting. In this case, it’s even advisable to let affection blur the severe accuracy of critical exercises. First, you let yourself loose in the sound, and then get out of it with the stark perspective of the inebriated, embedded connoisseur. This record will come as a slap in the face for anyone who antagonizes the flat-out nimbleness of cross-cultural music. For it is in its lightness that you should find its strength.

http://www.lostatsea.net/review.phtml?id=1757210818440f08cbe68a9