This album was recorded at a music festival staged in the wide open spaces of the Sahara, near Timbuktu in Mali, at the beginning of 2003. Among its catalysts are members of the French group, Lo’Jo, their manager Philip Brix, and Andy Morgan of the Bristol-based label, Apartment 22 Records, who wrote the sleeve notes.

I listened to the album for the first time on the last Saturday of July, as I drove through the rain to WOMAD Reading, where I was to broadcast my BBC London show later that evening. The contrast between the gloomy drizzle outside and the atmosphere emanating from the car speakers could hardly have been greater, as one track after another conveyed the intensity and excitement generated by the performers. Unable to check the scant details on my promo copy while driving, I could only guess at who was involved, but was confident I recognised the unmistakable voices of Ali Farka Touré, Robert Plant and the female singers of Lo’Jo.

By the time I reached the Riverside site of WOMAD, I had heard 17 of the 20 tracks, and was buzzing with exhilaration from the journey. Determined to incorporate the album into my radio programme, I figured out a good way of knitting it in. Lo’Jo was among the artists already scheduled to appear live in the second hour of my broadcast, and the group’s main writer Denis Pean agreed to come on stage during the first hour to talk about the album. We played two tracks, and in my exuberance I declared that this was possibly the best live album ever made.

Listening on the sidelines with a mixture of incredulity and delight was Andy Morgan, who contacted me later to make sure that (a) he had correctly heard what I said and (b) I was prepared to stand by a remark that might have been made in the heat of the moment. Did I want to reconsider it, or could he quote me? So I did reconsider, setting it against the critical pantheon of live albums: James Brown Live at the Apollo (1962), Bob Dylan Live at the Albert Hall (1966), The Who Live at Leeds (1970). And I stand by my stand.

But first I should admit that I don’t much like live albums in general, or even those famous three in particular. Part of the problem is that I generally prefer the original studio versions of songs, which I have heard so often that they have become part of my bone structure, and musicians on stage tend to play them a bit faster or make them last too long; fine if you are actually there, but annoying at home afterwards, made worse if people clap as they recognise familiar intros.

This album starts with several advantages. The sound quality is astonishingly good. It has all the best elements of a studio recording but with an extra dimension of music floating across open space, entirely different from the sound you get from an enclosed theatre, where the home listener is always conscious of having a second-hand experience. As almost all the material here is previously unknown, there are no reference points; we accept the songs as being this length and at this tempo because this is how we hear them first. When we hear a shouted reaction from the audience, it is not because they know it but because they are being affected by a vocal infection or a moment of instrumental virtuosity. And when the audience claps along in rhythm, they hit the beats in time. Bliss.

If you are a converted believer in the mystical magic of Malian music, you may know some of these performers already – Oumou Sangare, Tartit, Tinariwen and Afel Bocoum have all had albums released in Europe. But I don’t think this record requires any prior experience in order to enjoy it; the singers and musicians make their own rules, drawing you in, and the unknown names make as much impact as the famous – Bamako rapper Django transforms Lo’Jo’s ‘Jah Kas Cool Boy’, Adama Yalombo from Segou in Southern Mali makes his guitar sound like a kora on ‘Politique’, and French rap group Kwal sound right at home with local musicians on ‘Le Juge Ment’. My only gripe – I wish Robert Plant would not sing ‘baby’ so many times; it was ridiculous when he was 25 and is even more absurd now he’s coming up to 60. But the man can sing, and guitarist Justin Adams reminds us how African the sound of the blues always was.

The Best Live Album Ever? I’ll settle for putting it in the top five for now, and let time decide its final position.