Blues from a distant desert

At times the Sahara Desert appears as a rolling ocean of white waves: lines between the real and the imaginary blur. The heat is scorching, the air dry, and the wind breathes sand. This is the birthplace of desert blues - blues so deep they're laced with purple.

Members of Tinariwen, tribal Tamasheks (or Tuaregs) from the African country of Mali, are often billed as electric-guitar nomads. But the musicians never saw a guitar until 1979, when they were training to be mercenaries in Libyan training camps sponsored by Col. Muammar al-Qaddafi.

"People weren't familiar with electric guitar, or with the guitar at all," founding member Alhousseni Abdoulahi told a London newspaper earlier this year. "Our first instruments we made ourselves out of tin cans. And then, somehow, we got hold of acoustic guitars, and after that it was a self-taught thing." Ultimately, Tinariwen members tossed their Kalashnikovs and kept their guitars. The resulting music is sublime.

At 9 p.m. Monday, Nov. 8, Tinariwen performs at the Paramount Nightclub. The group's music blends African call and response with electric-guitar choruses; they hold deep notes longer than seems possible. Relentless yet mellow backbeats evoke walking: not the casual stroll but the nomadic walk on which life depends. As if braving sandstorms, Tinariwen performs veiled, turbaned, and in flowing robes.

Tinariwen's manager, Andy Morgan, reached by telephone at his home in England, explained: "They come from a place that knocks your head off in terms of its physical presence. The heat, dust, hunger, and rising above oppression have molded their characters. They are one of the easiest bands to work with. They are very resilient people. They don't ever grumble. At most they'll take you aside and have a quiet word."

Tinariwen's mesmerizing electric music tells the story of the Tamashek people, past and present. In Mali, where the group's music was banned during a 1990 Tamashek uprising, Tinariwen's tunes are as emblematic as Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind" is to America's '60s generation. When the Tamashek rebellion ended in 1996, the musicians were among those who lit a bonfire with 3,000 weapons and declared the desire for a peaceful future. The event became known as the "flame of peace."

Since being discovered by toubabs (white fans) in 2001, Tinariwen is going global. Morgan met the group in 2001 during the first Festival in the Desert near Tinariwen's hometown of Kidal on the edge of the Sahara Desert. "They came to play and I loved their music," he said. "It's danceable even when it expresses pain."

The Festival in the Desert, now in its fourth year, is a 21st- century version of the ancient temakannit, an annual gathering of Berber tribes. The tribes race camels, dance, and recall collective memories in poetry and song. And fans of African music trek to the festival from across the globe.

Tinariwen is sure to play selections from its new album, Amassakoul (World Village, 2004), at the Paramount concert. The title cut, "Amassakoul 'N' Tenere" (The Traveller in the Desert), invites us into the group's musical landscape: a guitar softly marching is gradually joined by a chorus of voices both male and female. Simple lyrics, simple beats, simple story:

I am a traveller in the lone desert

It's nothing special

I can stand the wind

I can stand the thirst

And the sun

I know how to go and walk

Until the setting of the sun

In the desert, flat and empty,

where nothing is given

The complexity of subsequent numbers induces trancelike dance states. "Arawan" (The Town of Arawan) brings the cadence of urban American rap back to Africa, drops in some French, and bathes the mix in women's ululations.

"Tenere Dafeo Nikchan" (I'm in a Desert With a Wood Fire) reminds us of Muddy Waters and aching Delta blues as a lone singer tells of a personal musical revival even as his world dissolves:

Tonight I sleep in the ruins

I follow the traces of my past

It sometimes befalls me to live like this

My heart oppressed and tight

And I feel the thirst of my soul

Then I hear some music

Sounds, the wind

Some music which takes me far, far away

To the clear light of morning

When Tenariwen hits town, Santa Feans will have a chance to connect with fellow desert spirits and sink into blues so deep that down looks like up. Q

Details

Tinariwen, desert blues from Mali

9 p.m. Monday, Nov. 8

Paramount Nightclub, 332 Sandoval St.

$20, 982-8999