Of course like all Griots, first and foremost Djabate is a vocalist. As it was their responsibility to be able to sing a family's or tribe's history, Griots by necessity have voices that make you want to listen to them. However this doesn't mean being loud or overpowering, it means having a voice that draws you into a song. Djabate isn't going to overpower anyone with voice, but there's something about his melodic tone that captivates the ear and holds your attention. What makes this even more impressive is the fact that the majority of the material on Karam isn't sung in English. Yet, in spite of that, you find yourself wanting to try and hang on to every word he sings.
Perhaps it's the subtle power of his music that ensnares the listener. With the balafon and acoustic guitar switching as lead instruments, the overall sound of this record is far less rhythm heavy than one would probably expect. In fact, there are occasions that the music comes close to being too understated, but is saved from being trance or sleep inducing by Djabate's precise playing of the balafon. Unlike a drum the sound of this instrument is very mellow and instead of propelling a song, it moves with it, emphasizing and breaking up the flow like punctuation does a sentence. Grown accustomed to popular music that's pushed forward by a full drum kit supported by electric bass, it takes a while for our ears to get used to the type of interplay of rhythm and melody employed by Djabte's, but once you do you'll find it just as effective as any other style.
Although living, in Europe Djabate's focus remains firmly fixed on Africa. He sings about the social and political realities facing his people including the rights of women, the fight against poverty, and about freedom. The last is particularly important to his homeland as its history has been checkered with civil wars and military coups since their independence in 1963. With one of lowest per capita mean incomes, around seven hundred American dollars per year, and an average life expectancy of around forty-five, Guinea-Bissau is one of the poorest countries in the world. What little infrastructure it had was destroyed during a civil war in 1998-99, and a military coup in 2003 has only increase its instability. As a Griot Djabate tells the story of his people in his music, and right now its not a pretty picture.
This goes a long way towards explaining the subdued tone of this disc. It would be hard to be too exuberant when singing about those topics. Yet even so the music isn't depressing to listen too. While we may not be able to understand the exact words that he's singing, the tone of his voice communicates that he has hope that things can improve. In spite of what I referred to as the subdued tone, there is an infectious quality to the music that gradually encourages you to move to the music. Normally you're not going to want to dance to songs that only bemoan fate, as the music can't help but reflect the spirit of the lyrics, so the fact Djabte's can inspire you to move tells you while things might not be so good right now there's no reason to give up hope for the future.
Article comments