American music is African music. From blues to R&B  to disco to electronica to bluegrass, every strain of American music can trace its DNA back to ideas rooted in the African American and African traditions, from the rhythms and melodies to the instruments themselves. Jayme Stone and Mansa Sissoko’s new collaborative album, “Africa to Appalachia,” brings that shared history to light in deft arrangements of Stone’s banjo and Sissoko’s kora playing.

After Stone’s trip to Mali a year ago, they were inspired to update West African traditions, showing how American folk and 12^th century Malian court songs grew from many of the same ideas, and to show the rich and idiosyncratic history of African music that didn’t cross the Atlantic on slave ships. We talked with Stone about where American folk really came from, and where West African folk is going in the future.

There seems to be such a resurgent interest in the banjo’s African roots. Why is this revisionist history of the instrument catching on right now?

There’s been this unsung history to the banjo all along. Most people think it’s only this iconic American instrument, but that’s not true. In rural Malian villages, you’ll see people playing things that look like a banjo, that are structured like a banjo. Artists like Carolina Chocolate Drops and Otis Taylor come at it from very different angles, but it’s interesting to see this wellspring of ideas around it.

How did you meet and fall in with local musicians in these rural Malian villages?

A lot of it unfolded organically. I stood out, obviously. I’m white and had this instrument that looked like an ngoni that had gone through an industrial revolution. But my studiousness also played a big part. I would play African songs that they already knew; I’d show up and play on their turf. I also spent a lot of time at the National Institute for the Arts, which is where I got a nice cross section of people. I didn’t want to fall into the European hotel scene or just the nightclubs in Bamako. Music there is still a down-home tradition of people staying up playing music by the fire because they don’t have electricity.

What was it like to see this shared musical DNA firsthand? You’ve mentioned that you saw Pete Seeger’s traditional “claw hammer” banjo technique in Mali.

It made the questions disappear. A lot of the people combing through these details are academic banjo players. But I actually saw the connection, and it wasn’t an academic question anymore. But it’s evolving over there too. People hear songs on the radio, they’ll add more strings, and trying to distill the most pure traditions became irrelevant. This record is based on traditional West African music, but we’re modern people.

Is traditional Malian music being influenced by Western culture as well?

It’s definitely happening, but it’s hard to make the call if it’s positive or not. On one hand,  you’ve got the wonderful Amadou & Mariam record, where you can hear Manu Chao’s hand, but on the other side, at the National Institute for the Arts, there’s only one ngoni player – everyone wants to play electric guitar or drums and listen to rap. Those who have access to those things get affected by it. Sometimes the pop music that makes it over there is the more commercial, less musical stuff, and a lot of tradition is being lost. I met a 70-year-old elder musician in one village who put his hand on my heart and said, “The work you’re doing is so important, and young people aren’t doing it.”

How can you help make the local population interested in their own indigenous music again?

Valuing the music is a big part of it. They’ll see videos of pop stars and see all this value in that music, and they need to see the value of their own music. I met one young musician who said that 50 people in the village used to play ngoni, now he’s the only one left. Tourist dollars have completely changed the economy — people can make significantly more money than they would otherwise. I did some field recordings of a local musician for a few days and at the end I paid him, and he was shocked. He had been taught only tourism-related things had any value. These are such complex issues. Mali is the fourth-poorest country in the world, with such a corrupt government. Anything you can do to make people value traditional music is great. An organization of banjo researchers started an instrument building facility in Senegal, and it helped the locals realize the value of their music.

How can a record like this help foster a Westerner’s understanding of modern Africa?

On a simple level, it helps with awareness that there is African music. It’s such a positive place;  they’re the most generous and warm people I’ve ever met. These are people with absolutely nothing and they’ll give you the shoes off their feet. The idea of family is extended — anyone with your last name or who lives in your village is a brother or sister. The place of music there is not as entertainment. It serves specific functions; it’s there to encourage people. There are songs for farmers and blacksmiths and for every family. It buoys people as they struggle to get by.

-by August Brown