Comparisons to such legendary African female vocalists as Miriam Makeba, Oumou Sangare, Angelique Kidjo and Marie Daulne (of Zap Mama) don't faze Dobet Gnahoré at all. "I am quite proud to arrive at that level. However, there's a long way to go," says the 24-year-old West African singer-songwriter. Speaking through a translator via phone from France, she maintains that such praise is "too big to sell to me. I know the place I have."

But, it's an honor for her to be named in such esteemed company, especially because she's spent considerable time listening to all of those artists. "I feel like the daughter of Makeba and Kidjo," she says.

With the release of her second solo album, "Na Afriki," and her first coast-to-coast U.S. headlining tour (which lands at the Napa Valley Opera House on Saturday), Gnahoré might be a household name sooner than she thinks. "Na Afriki" comes alive with lushly arranged polyrhythmic melodies, topped with soaring, emotive vocals. Blending traditional African elements with folk and jazz influences, it's a serious contender for world music album of the year.

"Me and my husband do the music together. All the music was created by both of us," Gnahoré says. "After that, we asked some musicians to be guests. We had the feeling that could be a nice meeting."

"Nice" seems too polite a word for the vibrant range of expression on "Na Afriki." Not only does Gnahoré sing in six languages, but she also covers a broad range of relevant social issues. "Djiguene," sung in Wolof, makes a plea for gender equality. "Dala," sung in Dida, urges, "Don't forget mutual respect, not respect for money, but respect for humans." "Inyembezi Zam," sung in Xhosa, questions, "Have we become mad? We pollute the planet." And "Jho Avido," sung in Fon, addresses both mortality and the spirit world: "A thread of light separates the world of the dead from that of the living." Another highlight is the requisite love song, "Ma Poo" ("My Breath"), a beautiful ballad sung in Guere and dedicated to Gnahoré's husband and songwriting partner, Colin Laroche de Féline.

Though English speakers would never know it from Gnahoré's hauntingly beautiful melodic tones, several songs address politically charged aspects of African society. On "Massacre" and "Pillage," she takes a stand against genocide and injustice. Two of the strongest statements on "Na Afriki's" are made in "Khabone-N'Daw" and "Mousso Tilou," which address the controversial topics of incest and polygamy.

"(As) for the politics, when I meet people or read some incredible story, I feel I have to write something on this matter," she says. "It's just instinctive, when I feel some important or some emotional stuff, to write."

Discussing taboo topics might seem like an indictment of her native culture, yet Gnahoré also celebrates traditional tribal society on "Pygmees," a tune inspired by the forest people of Africa and consisting entirely of rhythmic vocal chants backed by sparse percussion.

In West Africa, a sense of shared culture eclipses national borders and permeates the region's artistic efforts. For that reason, "Pan-Africanism musically is quite normal," Gnahoré says. Noting that her mother is from Ghana, she adds, "globally, I feel like an African."

Growing up in an artists' commune known as Ki-Yi M'Bock in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, Gnahoré has been immersed in Pan-African culture since the age of 5. Artistic expression became the lingua franca connecting the multigenerational, multinational enclave co-founded by her father, Boni Gnahoré, which housed artists from across the continent. In Ki-Yi, dance, theater, poetry and song were all intrinsically linked, and several languages were commonly spoken.

"It was really important to be able to meet a lot of artists from all parts of Africa," Dobet Gnahoré explains. At age 10, she joined a group of young artists within the village who staged their own dance, musical and theater performances, and even made their own costumes. "That was school for me," she says. She learned much, worked hard to discipline herself in the arts and pushed her creative sensibilities "for music, for dance, for vocation."

Gnahoré pays tribute to the village on "Na Afriki's" "Yekiyi." Sung in Malinke, the song credits her second family at Ki-Yi with putting the singer on her artistic and musical path. "I found my voice, thanks to you ... I have developed the will to succeed."

In 1999, Gnahoré left her homeland and moved to France with her husband and their child, partially because of political instability in the region. "It's really complicated in Ivory Coast," she says, adding that in Africa, venues and music studios for performing artists are scarce. "It's easier in Europe."

Living in Givet, a French town near the Belgian border, Gnahoré and her husband, who learned African guitar styles while in Abidjan, started composing music. Soon they became affiliated with Belgian management company Contre Jour, whose roster includes a number of African artists. Once again, Gnahoré began to collaborate and create with a collective of artists in the spirit of Ki-Yi, and the result was her debut album, 2004's "Ano Neko." In 2006, she received a BBC World Music awards nomination for best newcomer.

Gnahoré came to the United States for the first time last year as part of Putumayo's Acoustic Africa tour, where she earned rave reviews as the youngest artist on a bill with South Africa's Vusi Mahlasela and Mali's Habib Koité. Gnahoré admits to being nervous about her first big solo tour, which began in New York on Sept. 10, and ends in Seattle two days after her Napa concert. "Of course I'm a little bit afraid," she says.

Gnahoré admits it would be nice to actually become the next big African music star, as some critics have predicted. "If I become a star, I could help my family and people back home," she says. And while she claims she's somewhat of a perfectionist both onstage and in the studio, she's getting more comfortable with the idea of being on the road. "Onstage, it's like theater. I dance. I sing."

By: Eric K. Arnold