Malian singer-songwriter Habib Koité and his group Bamada haven’t released a studio album since 2001’s Baro (Putumayo). Instead, they’ve toured relentlessly across Europe and the US, playing hundreds of shows (since 1995, they’ve given nearly 70 performances in Switzerland alone). That kind of touring can kill the spirit of a band. But to judge by their performance at the Somerville Theatre last Saturday, Habib Koité and Bamada not only have thrived under these conditions but have found a power that’s only hinted at on their most recent release, the 2003 live album Fôly! (World Village).

Maybe it’s just that the virtuosity that was on display at the Somerville can never be captured on CD. The individual players’ considerable talents are evident on the band’s recordings. But live, Bamada did a breathtaking job of being a group. In "Nimato," they worked with layers of syncopation, building rhythms so complex that the audience was unable to clap along even when prompted. The band answered their own challenge with a furious percussion duel. "Foro Bana," which has the snaky, foot-tapping quality of a familiar blues on the 1998 studio album Ma Ya (Putumayo), was transformed by a tricky time signature that provided a dark frame for the spectacular variations of Kélétigui Diabaté’s balafon solo. The sweet "Takamba" and "Ma Ya" took flight on Diabaté’s violin playing and Koité’s individual style: his guitar can be as soft and gentle as a kora or burst forth with a flamenco-like attack. And throughout, the rhythm section — bassist Abdoul Wahab Berthé, drummer Souleymane Ann, percussionist Mahammadou Koné, and rhythm guitarist Boubacar Sidibé — maintained a flexible groove.

It may be misleading to classify Bamada as "world music." Their output is not traditional: Koité has taken pains to explain that he makes use of rhythms and modes from more than his own ethnic heritage. And his guitar playing is in an idiom of his own creation. He uses his own tuning, and his nylon-stringed electro-acoustic is meant to suggest the traditional stringed kamale n’gone. But when an actual kamale n’gone made an appearance in one song Saturday night, it became clear that Koité’s guitar has a sound all its own. Bassist Berthé and rhythm guitarist Sidibé, meanwhile, play their instruments turned upside down, perhaps in imitation of the way the kamale n’gone is strung, with the highest-pitched string closest to the body. If there’s a tradition here, it’s one you can see Koité and Bamada creating before your very eyes.

-Damon Krukowski