First, full disclosure: I wrote the liner notes for this CD. I was happy to do so because it's always a treat to discover yet another powerful singer from Senegal, especially one with such an engaged world view and an impressive track record not only as a musician but as an actor and activist. With ancestral roots in both the far north and the far south of Senegal, El Hadj N'Diaye began his career in Dakar, appearing in films, playing his guitar and singing his own socially engaged songs. He runs an arts organization dedicated to uplifting the poor and oppressed in his country. His first album Thiaroye won him awards and accolades in Europe in 2000. Xel, the follow-up, aims to introduce N'Diaye to American audiences. And now to my thoroughly objective review.

An electric guitar growls out the intro, and then El Hadj N'Diaye's soaring, emotive voice calls in the band, first drums and bass, then a second guitar and percussion, all building to a moody Senegalese rock groove. N'Diaye's voice flutters in its high range, achieving an almost ritualistic cry at times. For all the gut-level passion in the performance, it's ironic that this the lead and title track, "Xel," translates "Reason."

Most of these 12 tracks begin with spare acoustic guitar, and feature N'Diaye's dramatic, at times horn-like tenor voice. Kora, balafon and traditional percussion weave in and out of the arrangements, but the songs themselves draw almost as much from folk, rock and other international song forms as from music indigenous to Senegal. "Sama Demna" ("Mine is Gone"), a song about loss, recalls one of the folksy ballads Baaba Maal interprets in his more acoustic work, but N'Diaye's musicians gradually infuse the song with rhythm until it morphs into a light, animated mbalax groove. "Casa di Mansa" features N'Diaye singing against simple percussion, and later balafon, in a soulful meditation on the consequences of the ongoing conflict in the southern Senegalese region of Cassamance.

Social themes from the plight of children in war to the need for Africans to unite against oppression are this album's stock in trade, and N'Diaye's passion comes across clearly on every track. If there's any downside here, it might be that the torch song intensity in his delivery can become a bit much. Late in the set, a pretty, folk ballad that translates "Sweet Nothings" finds N'Diaye's voice so dripping with emotion that you come away feeling a little damp. Though spare, and largely acoustic, this album is not mellow in the way that similar work by N'Diaye's countryman Ismael Lo might be. N'Diaye uses his composing skills and his magnificent voice to demand that we consider the oppressed and neglected of Africa. By its very nature, that undertaking is not for the faint of heart.

Contributed by: Banning Eyre for www.afropop.org