Review and photographs for Afropop.org by Derek Beres

Once again, New York is seeing an awesome display of live talent in the Afropop arena in the summer of 2006.  Later this summer, we’ll have a diverse photo essay of some of our best live shots.  In the meantime, here’s a review and photos from another amazing recent show at Central Park Summerstage.

As Mauritanian/Senegalese musician Daby Toure stood like a lone warrior in the 100-degree heat, circularly waving his right hand in euphemistic fury while his left batted the acoustic guitar as a percussive instrument, the already-heated crowd jumped into further frenzy. “My English is not so good,” he stated humbly (for his language skills were excellent), “but I’m trying to get one point across. We are all one people. There is no difference.” The vocal surge arising from the audience was sympathetic. Toure’s trio blared on.  Toure was so impressive, in fact, that you could say two headliners shared this bill. While it was obvious that most came for the act once known as the “blind couple of Mali,” the married duo that found a runaway smash with 2005’s Dimanche a Bamako (in part due to the project collaborator, Spanish artist/producer Manu Chao), the crowd left with a new name in their collection. First, however, the DJs took the stage. 

Birdy Nam Nam, a four-piece turntablist crew from France, have fitted themselves into a unique-yet-growing segment of the musical population: a “band” comprised of nothing but vinyl. Unlike many such outfits, Birdy—comprised of Little Mike, DJ Pone, DJ Need, and Crazy B—play most of the instruments they then record and melt onto wax. The intention is there, the presentation changes, and while their skills are apparent, their beat selection is not always so choice. Give it to the Parisian love of drum ‘n bass, as many of their guitar-heavy cuts turned into a panoramic blitz hovering at180 bpm, crossing the line between Maggot Head and Goldie. The show was decent, though a bit odd considering the following acts. Still, in many ways we witnessed a further example of what local acts like X-Ecutioners are doing: presenting a small slice of musical theatrics with able fingers and obvious finesse. 

Daby Toure’s set was so left of what Birdy was doing, it felt slightly awkward. That is, until Toure, backed by an outstanding bassist and percussionist/drummer, the latter with some of the quickest hands this side of the Seine, took over. A native of Mauritania, Toure grew up in a number of villages before settling near the Senegal River in Djeole. While learning early the rhythms and songs of the Soninke, he was situated between the lighter-skinned Moors and much darker Saharan population. From banging on tins and cardboard boxes to seeing the ethnic struggles around him, Toure¹s musical journey led him to creating 2004’s brilliant Diam (Real World), which translates as “peace.” 

A gorgeous tempering of acoustic, Afropop/blues feel with light brushes of electronic mastering, the songs from Diam came alive on stage. Thick walls of sound converged as Toure often played his guitar like a cajon or conga, slapping the strings and caressing the body in measured strokes. He called for sing-along sections, giving props to the ladies for beautifully harmonizing (the men got a disparate headnod). Each song, such as “Iris” and “Kelimanta,” extended to eight minutes plus, showing Toure’s versatility and showmanship. His is a career just beginning to blossom.

Malian bluesman/woman Amadou and Mariam are on the other end of that spectrum. While over a half-million copies of Dimanche has sold to date, this duo met in 1977 and instantly made music. Enrolled at the Institute for the Blind in Bamako, they joined the house band, the Eclipse Orchestra.  Three years later they married and began their own recording/touring career.  So while two-and-a-half decades passed between their debut and global fame, on Sunday they showed an entire life devoted to the craft of music. 

Their meeting with Manu Chao occurred after the infamous artist heard one of their songs while driving through France. Curiosity piqued, Chao sought out and later helped create Dimanche a Bamako, a brilliant meeting ground between Amadou’s heavy Hendrix/classic rock blues, Mariam’s high-pitched vocals and the producer’s quirkily original ear. While playing as a sextet—the Malians backed up by bass, percussion, drums and keyboards—they recreated their long history of material well, from ‘98’s Sou Ni Tile through to ’04¹s Wati and, of course, their latest. The couple’s on stage energy is, not surprisingly, insular. Standing motionless the majority of the time, Amadou’s leans leftward by habit, dropping the guitar neck low, and the pair’s effortless smiles were enough to lighten the crowd (with some help from a frantic bassist who, as a friend put it, could easily have passed for an upbeat George Clooney).