A conversation with Albert Mazibuko reveals the same sunny clarity and spiritual solace that has mad Ladysmith Black Mambazo a global cultural phenomenon.

When his speaking voice suggests excitement, as it does when Mazibuko attempts to ut into perspective the 34 years he has spent singing with the grou, his voice glides up an octave. It’s much the same when the South African vocal troupe sings songs of township faith for an increasingly troubled world.

Mazibuko speaks in fluent English. Mambazo sings almost exclusively in Zulu. Yet the measures of hope and excitement that abound in both make these seemingly disparate tongues seem like one.

“I look back on these 24 years and think, ‘This is amazing. What is this? How can it be that we’re still singing?’” he said.

Part of the reason, Mazibuko says, is the sense of family and community at the heart of Mambazo’s music accompanies the group wherever it plays.

“I think that’s why we still enjoy touring so much,” he said. “We find this wherever we sing. It could be in Rotterdam. It could be in America. We’ve even been invited to sing in other villages in Africa where they may not understand the words to the songs. But we communicate. We are always left with a feeling of peace.”

Such peace has given a resiliency to Mambazo’s music. Its songs have long outlasted the rule of apartheid in its homeland, but the group has seen it put to a more personally profound test in recent years. When Nellie Shabalala, wife of 30 years to group founder and leader Joseph Shabalala, was murdered in 2002. Mambazo answered first with an unexpected performance at her memorial service and then with one of its most affirmative recordings.

“Our sense of peace had to be very strong when Joseph’s wife was killed,” Mazibuko said. “When we were asked to perform, we didn’t know if we could or not.”

They did. And in 2003, Mambazo’s answer to a troubled world was a gorgeous recording called “Wenyukela.” With a title that translates in English to “Raise Your Spirit Higher,” the album earned the ensemble Grammy Award in 2004.

“That’s what we felt that day at the service: Raise your spirit. Get above your problems.”

Though it has been singing for decades, Mambazo wasn’t acknowledged by much of the world outside South Africa until 1986. That’s when Paul Simon, enamored of a cassette of township singing, invited the group to record on his career-redefining album, “Graceland.” Mambazo was largely asked to fit into the confines of his electric songs (as on “Diamonds on the Souls of Their Shoes”), but Simon played by Mambazo’s rule on “Homeless.” The a cappella tune, written by Simon and Shabalala, typified “Gracelnad’s” global appeal.  It has since become Mambazo’s most popular and, from Mazibuko’s perspective, cherished tune.

“It was so difficult at first to sing ‘Homeless,’” Mazibuko said. “We would never quite get it on recordings. So we went back to our hotels and prayed just as we always pray before a performance. Today, when we sing ‘Homeless,’ I always think, ‘This song is something. This is the song that introduced us to the world.’”

Shabalala, Mazibuko and the rest of Mambazo revisited “Homeless” on the new album, “No Boundaries.” The group has occasionally added instrumentation to its vocal sound, and “No Boundaries” employs help from the English Chamber Orchestra. Along with a new arrangement of “Homeless,” Shabalala’s opening benediction of “Jabulani” (“Rejoice”) presents an extraordinary sense of serenity with the addition of gentle strings and percussion.

“Our vision has always been ot share our music with everyone,” Mazibuko said. “We realized there were a lot of people who have seen us perform that came from the lassical world. When people play instruments behind us, it’s not really a problem. Still, we found musicians, in some sections, would stop playing because they thought they would interfere with our singing. They felt we wouldn’t be heard.”

Mazibuko, of course, knows better. Despite apartheid, despite direct loss to his musical family, Mambazo has always been heard. And in a world still starved for peace, the singer’s mission remains that it always will be.

“I know it amy just seem like a drop in the ocean,” he said, “but I do believe music can do some good for this world.”

-Walter Tunis