You’ve never heard anything like Tinariwen, an Afro rock band from Mali who dress in traditional Berber garb and play electric guitars. Their name means “Empty Places” in Tuareg, a language from North Africa. That of course reveals nothing about the music, which is rich and strange, familiar and exotic. Their guitars produce variations on western beats that indicate various influences: American blues (Sun House), Jamaican reggae (Burning Spear), and even early American rock (Chuck Berry). The astonishing tightness of this band reminds me of the young Steve Cropper during his time with Booker T & the MGs. Yet their rhythms are more complex and accented differently from those of Western music.
Tinariwen has been recording since 1982, yet this is only their third CD. The first two were good, but this one is excellent. (They learn from their musical experiments: on their second album they performed an embarrassing rap song.) Their lead singer is Ibrahim Ag Alhabib, a wiry man whose voice seems roughened by sandstorms and cigarette smoke. Sometimes he’ll begin a song as an arrhythmic toxeem or with a recited letter to his mother, then he’ll be joined by a chorus of women who sing a refrain like Ahimana (Oh my soul). Wonou Walet Sidati and Kesa Walet Hamid are listed as providing “backing vocals and handclaps.” Very effective handclaps, I should add. If you read the lyrics, the songs are more often about “spirit drums,” notable rebels, and exile than sexual love. Yet it doesn’t matter what they sing about during these riveting call-and-response sequences. None of the band members indulge in stratospheric guitar solos so favored by Western musicians. Rifts tend to be only a bar or two long between verses that rapidly assume the tone of a communal sing-along. The ululations of the women add a haunting and deeply authentic touch, one that’s never overused. Much of this up-tempo music is eminently danceable. Try listening to the tenth cut, Tamatant Tilay, without getting up and swaying your hips. If they tour your city, by all means, see them. They’re stunning public performers.
— Peter Bates
