root salad Samba Touré
The Malian guitarist is hoping that things will take a turn for the better, reports Liam Thompson
W
ith any number of talented and successful namesakes to compete against, standing out on the Malian music scene with
a name like Touré can be a tricky thing. And, whilst Samba Touré is well respected amongst Mali’s musical dynasties – a musician who’s played with some of the best – he has until now failed to make a major impact as a solo artist.
His latest record however might change all that. Albala, meaning ‘danger’ in Songhai, is a powerful, edgy record, seething with righteous anger. Combining Malian blues traditions with lean song- writing and a vocal style that lurks some- where between rap and evangelism, Albala marks Samba’s arrival as a Touré in his own right. I caught up with Samba and asked what had inspired the new direction?
“My previous album ended with a song about what Mali has experienced since early 2012.” Samba tell me. “2012 was a disastrous year and my new songs were affected by it. If I lived in a perfect world, I could sing about lighter things but unfortunately, we feel what surrounds us whether we want to or not.”
“I wouldn’t describe the new record as political – I don’t care much about politics or trust politicians – but I always sing about social problems. In a country like Mali it’s a duty to sing and raise awareness of the issues the politicians should be dealing with. But I’m an artist, not a politician.”
So what’s the message of the new record? “There are many messages on Albala. Fondora is a message to all the armed groups who attack Mali, all the liars looting, raping and killing. They do so under different flags but they are really all the same. There is a song about the slow pace of economic development and the corruption that slows it down; another for children, asking them to respect the water that is our most valuable asset. Idje lalo is about respect for our elders while Bana talks about the benefits and dangers of the rain. Awn Be Ye Kelenye is about unity of Malian ethnic groups. Samba is still Samba though and there’s also a love song, Aye Go Mila. But you also have Be Ki Don that starts the album, a song of joy and dance. I’ve always sung like this, but this time I do so with more sadness.”
Sadness isn’t the vibe of Albala though; perhaps the sadness is written into the Songhai words that Samba chants. Going just on the music Albala is a joyous progression on sounds pioneered by Ali Farka Touré – a scintillating fusion of Malian traditions. As Samba tells me how- ever, the sadness lies in the existential threat posed to those traditions.
“T
here’s nobody who hasn’t been affected – including the artists. There has been little artistic output over the last
year and festivals have been cancelled – including the Festival In The Desert. Who can buy music when their children are hungry? We’re in shock and consumed by the need to protect our loved ones in the north of the country, I can’t play and make people dance in Bamako while my family suffer in the north. As a man and as a father, the crisis is very hard. The future scares me.”
There will be a future though, I sug- gest, and artistically things are looking up. Nevertheless the situation for Samba, and for Mali, hangs in the balance.
“Only God knows what tomorrow will bring,” Samba says. “Anything could hap- pen, for better or worse. But I haven’t given up and now I’m back. At the end of 2012 I had the chance to work with some new, adventurous, producers and made a record I’m really proud of, with help from Hugo Race who has given special colour to the music. It’s been a sad year, true, but I
admit it was also a lucky year as an artist. I only hope that Albala will be a hit and that there’s more to come. I hope I’ll meet my audience on the road again. But my future is linked to my country.”
I ask if the music might help the situa- tion in Mali. “Music can’t change this situ- ation. What musician can change the world? We can only raise awareness, raise spirits, give sensations of pleasure and reflection to an audience, but the authori- ty of an artist doesn’t go beyond that.
In a country like Mali, if music can get people together and comfort them it’s a great thing, and if these songs can touch a distant, foreign audience, then it’s also good. Truth is the first casualty of war after all and if music can give a more direct, realistic view of what we live and how we live it, then it’s worth it.”
If there’s anything in Mali that can get people together, it’s music, and Samba Touré’s Albala is a great example of why.
Albala is released by Glitterbeat,
www.glitterbeat.com www.samba-toure.com
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