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African Traditions Meet Dance-Floor Electronica
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New York Times, African Traditions Meet Dance-Floor Electronica >>
It was only a matter of time before dance-music and electronica producers latched on to African music. Both use the power of pattern and repetition to get people moving; both are willing to assimilate whatever comes along. And while the prospect of an African band with prerecorded rhythm tracks might seem about as savory as microwave popcorn, Issa Bagayogo, the Malian bandleader who performed at Joe's Pub on Thursday, made vibrant music with a digital foundation.
On two albums, "Sya" and "Timbuktu" (Six Degrees), Mr. Bagayogo, who plays a six-stringed hunter's harp, the kamele n'goni, has worked with a French keyboardist, Yves Wernert, to create a hybrid of traditionalist songs and programmed electronica. For the albums and onstage, many of the rhythm tracks used organic sounds -- hand drums, balafon (marimba), scrapers, rattles, handclaps -- and only gradually slipped in drum-machine sounds or samples of horn sections.
Malian sounds stayed in the foreground: Mr. Bagayogo's husky, thoughtful voice and the lines he plucked on the n'goni; the airy voices of two female singers, harking back to traditions of the Wassoulou region of Mali; and the guitar of Mama Sissoro, who sometimes used quick runs derived from Malian kora playing. Mr. Bagayogo was singing, in West African style, about history and social issues, while the circling melodies used somber, ancient modes, tied to the notes available on the n'goni.
But the songs were fusions, both subtle and blatant. Jamy Pedro, on bass, went skipping across the steady beat with double-time and triple-time lines; Mama Sissoro, on guitar, used the high, supple lines of Congolese rock, and both could hint at funk or reggae. Mr. Bagayogo's n'goni moved in and out of the mix, sometimes working more as a percussive hook than as the music's mainspring. The women sang traditionalist responses, but in "Dambalou," a song praising the bravery of ancient Manding warriors, their fluttery voices could sound like the B-52's. And in the course of the set, the rhythm tracks gradually moved westward until a steady four-on-the-floor beat kicked in.
Without losing the contemplative tone of traditional Malian songs, the music headed for the dance floor and stayed there. The backup singers, who were dancing barefoot when they weren't at their microphones, were joined before the end of the set by an eager audience member. Although she couldn't make the (digital) drummers work any harder, the band members somehow met her quick steps with ever more intricate patterns, as the live African musicians outshone their programmed backup.
07/23/02
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