Before Jake and Elwood Blues, there was Joseph Shabalala. He dreamed a choir of spirit children who floated above his head and sang in an unknown language. This enchanted him in the same way that it enchanted Tolstoy's Petya -- the music "all blended into one and again became separate and again blended, now into solemn church music, now into something dazzlingly brilliant and triumphant." Whereas Petya dreamed his music, Shabalala formed Ladysmith Black Mambazo. His group performed complex a capella harmonies, which were spirited around Joseph's Christian messages, and made beautiful music that inspired inner and outer peace.

Mambazo made this music during apartheid, and during the still-lively AIDS epidemic. They made it with Paul Simon, and they made it alone, and now they make it as tragedies abound. In 1992, Joseph's brother and bandmate, Headman Shabalala, was killed by an off-duty South African security guard. No case was made against the guard. Ten years later, Joseph himself was shot in the arm, and his wife, Nelli Shabalala, was killed. Her stepson, Nkosinathi Shabalala, stands accused. Among the theories: a perverse rivalry between the mother's female iscathamiya group and Nkosinathi's White Mambazo group. It's as sad and pathetic as an East Coast/West Coast rivalry.

Raise Your Spirit Higher is the sound of Joseph and his group sucking it up and praying harder. The tight-knit group leans more than ever on music to save them, and to help them find happiness; it's as if they feel the spirit children jumping away from Shabalala's dreams, so there's urgency here. They perform as intensely as they can to keep the spirits near. Universality seems to be the key to sustaining their relevance, and the relevance of their mission -- there are more songs in English this time, and a greater thematic variety of material. The same Mambazo that sang "Homeless" delivers a song for a safety belt campaign ("Fak' Ibhande"), a song against racism, and a few in favor of the new South Africa. Joseph's grandsons add a sweet, sentimental rap ("Great grandpa, please hold on") that celebrates Nelli, while "Undidekil' Umhlaba" bluntly expresses the emotions at which all of their other songs hint: Ladysmith Black Mambazo makes music for God. Their music is a gift from their mouths, for their ears, and it's there to give them comfort.

With the exception of the grandsons' rap, the songs sound little different from the last forty Ladysmith Black Mambazo records. Because they use sound more than words to convey their message, they seem beautiful at first but grow somewhat dull after six songs, even though each those six songs is absolutely beautiful when it's heard separately. The only way around this is to listen to their music in the same way that the group performs it. Do not think of "Uqinisil' Ubada" as another Ladysmith Black Mambazo track; consider it your gospel, and use the music to strengthen the attributes that make your life complete.