Long, long, long before electricity, there was the groove. And blues came even before that.
Héritage mesmerizingly puts such prehistory back into play. Not by merely going old school via unplugging. But by truly going Old World.
These are African blues, you see. Direct from Mali. So-called “desert blues,” paying geographical debt to their point of origin off in the continent’s sandy Saharan region. And Songhoy Blues—vocalist/guitarist Aliou Touré, lead guitarist Garba Touré, bassist Oumar Touré, drummer Nathanael Dembélé—is one of the hottest, typically blistering purveyors of the genre. But compared to the amped-out, ramped-up, modern roar of their prior three albums since emerging in 2015, Héritage, recorded in studios peppered about the Malian capital of Bamako, makes a legitimate about-face. The amplifiers and drum kit have been ditched. Instead, traditional wooden music with hand-walloped percussion drills down to the primordial root.
The trance lasts 49 minutes and 35 seconds (on CD). Over that span, time hangs suspended through 11 surreal voyages (plus one hidden bonus trek). When not engaged in six-stringed hypnosis, guitars steal away with bright, nimble runs. An ever-bubbling bed of percussion—led by the age-old clip-clop of calabash—takes on the striding gait of camel caravans on the move. An undercurrent pulls strongly and constantly. So many sparkling, little details keep spinning off as to surely rekindle a love affair with your headphones.
The core band, which has ties to their nation’s northern reaches, up around the fabled city of Timbuktu, expands and contracts as fellow Afropop heroes—including fretsmen Samba Touré and Afel Bocoum as well as kora master Mamadou Diabaté—come and go freely. In turn, so do West African instruments as ancient as dirt. The 20some-string kora, for instance, hasn’t changed over the eons, still spilling cascades of tinkling, crystalline notes. The gnashing of a single-string fiddle, known as a soku or njarka, emits its cat-scratch shriek, immune from the advance of time. Same can be said for the primal, dry flutter of a hand-carved flute or the balafon’s rolling thunder, gained from tricking out a wooden xylophone with gourd resonators to naturally amplify the hollow clunk.
Voices sing their tales in secret West African alphabets. But you needn’t be conversant in such homeland languages as Songhai or Bambara for the incantations to hypnotize. Narratively, though, topics range from grinding over personal relationships to groaning over being broke to stewing over earthly entropy. Blues, in other words.
When woven together, quite the adventure unfolds. Sink into the lushness of “Toukambela,” layered with musicians swishing, plucking, puffing and thwacking in coordinated stride, as a breezy female chorus seconds Aliou’s emotions. Or wade into the serene, languid pools of “Boutiki” made for pensive reflection. Warm, gentle updrafts cast from all sorts of strings flown by zooming fingers impart “Woyhenna” with its soothing sway versus the steady, pulsing thump giving “Dagabi” its heartbeat. “Garibou” is singalongable (just about), encouraged all the more by a catchy rhythm and even catchier refrains. “Issa” is the brooder of the bunch: a whirlpool of riffing guitars encircling vocals whose gravity gets bolstered by call-and-response backup. “Batto” breaks protocol, though. Partially, at least. The dash of amplification that sharpens its bite, in turn, mildly hints at what Songhoy Blues’ electrical storms can do when greenlit.
Héritage, for being desert blues, is ironically anything but dry and barren. In fact, the overall experience and its sound is so deep and immersive enough to benefit from having a snorkel on hand.
Label: Transgressive
Release Date: 1/17/25
Band website: songhoyblues.com
Reviewed by Dennis Rozanski
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