Salif Keita

Salif Keita's 1987 release, "Soro," introduced to many listeners around the world the soaring West African vocal style set to a new blend of traditional African rhythms and electric pop arrangements. Keita's unique style of dance-oriented music, with lyrics unafraid to criticize social problems, became a virtual model for other world music performers. His success helped open up the doors for many African performers to gain recognition for their local musical styles in a music market that quickly internationalized.

Since "Soro," Keita has released a stunning series of recordings and continued to develop his unique musical vision. His new CD, "Moffou," is a return to a more roots-based sound, making Keita the perfect choice to round out the Blue Note's summer roots festival, which showcased performers from Cuba, New Orleans, France, Africa and Brazil.

On stage and off, Keita has an impressive presence and genuine charisma. He was born to a royal Mali family, but left his privileged position to pursue his singing career at a young age with the legendary Rail Band and later with Les Ambassadeurs. But if he left his noble family, the nobility didn't leave him. His manner is intense, regal and somewhat impatient in a way that overwhelms while still being immensely pleasant.

After a week-long flurry of phone calls, emails and missed connections in French, English and Japanese, at last, Keita arranged to squeeze in a few minutes to talk Saturday after midnight in a small room above the club. "I'm a little tired after a week of shows," he laughed, but still listened intensely and thought carefully before answering questions about his new CD, "Moffou," and his music.

Keita is known for his rollicking dance beats, but instead of bringing out the full ten-piece band straight away, Keita began his shows at the Blue Note last week by singing and playing guitar alone. The stillness would seem to be difficult for someone used to a provocative, at times even frenzied, performance. Nodding, he said, "It's not more difficult, but it is more personal. Alone on stage, me and guitar, it's very intimate and emotional. Of course, when one is personal, one sings of love."

The second number he sang most shows, "Ana Na Ming," added to "Moffou" only at the last minute, evoked the pain of love. His desolate voice implores the fish and the river in a storied African landscape to help him win over the girl he loves. The spare guitar playing evoked suffering and sadness with a sound more like a kora, a kind of African harp, than any western guitar. Singing in his native Bamana, his voice was otherworldly, ranging from glass-shattering to a whisper. The directness and delicacy of his guitar was captivating, with a single note at times carrying the full strength of his emotion.

This was a new side of Salif Keita. In the past, many of Keita's recordings featured more lavish and lush arrangements. Weather Report founder Joe Zawinul produced Keita's 1991 release, "Amen," mixing the tapes in Los Angeles, and adding tracks by jazz saxophonist Wayne Shorter and rock guitarist Carlos Santana. Despite the orchestral richness of the production, the CD was criticized as being too western, even while the quality was superb. The solitary singing, captured on "Moffou," feels like an important departure, an evolution towards a personal statement. "This CD is really more roots. It's really a more African sound," he said, with a clear sense of pride.

The live shows were definitely back to roots as well. In addition to the intimate solos, Keita also focused more on traditional African instruments. The three drums--the tone-changing talking drum, the crisp djembe, and the booming callebasse--along with the traditional stringed instruments ngoni and camele ngoni formed the core of the band's sound, keeping the music at an even tempo. In the live shows, as on the CD, Keita gave solo time to hear the virtuoso musicianship of these young players drawn from all over Mali. The electric keyboards, guitar and bass were no less important, but blended in more for accents and a heavier, fuller background. The electric instruments moved to the center of the sound only on the most upbeat numbers towards the end.

Though Keita's mix felt more natural than in the past, combining the traditional with the electric is still the essence of his particular sound, and not easily accomplished. So much world music feels imbalanced, going for either club beats or pure historical style, but rarely both. "It's completely natural now. These blend so smoothly. The traditional and the modern is really the same music. Together, they give a complete, overall meaning," said Keita, dismissing the tendency of music writers to pick apart the music. Keita clearly sees this organic synthesis of musical elements as part of an artistic process of growth, rather than just entertainment or consumerism. "I don't like to just put out one CD after the next, so it becomes routine. I don't like that," he said. "I don't want to remain with the same thing, either."  

In addition to the careful musical blend, the lyrics on "Moffou" are sophisticated and well-crafted, telling of love and social injustice with poetic beauty. One song is entirely devoted to the importance of women. Incredibly, many in the crowd sang along with the Bamana lyrics. Had they memorized them from the CD? Apparently so. Even Keita's manager asked me about it later.

Still, the crowd had no trouble finding the beat. Keita implored the audience to jump up, but he needed ask only once. The two women singer-dancers took over the stage for most of the final numbers, showing how inseparably connected are music and dance in Africa. They put on an incredible display of dancing, shaking one limber part of their bodies after the next with unbelievable speed and agility. Not only could the Africans in the audience dance along, but many Japanese clearly knew the African steps as well. The last half of every show turned into one big Malian dance hall. Even the bartenders at the Blue Note, known more for the cool precision of their cocktails than their dance moves, and the typically formal wait staff, were jouncing uncontrollably at the back of the club. Stillness and stiff work motions were no longer options. As the band packed the stage with dancing fans, Keita raised his arm in triumph and smiled broadly.

I asked him after the show about the power of music and its ability to effect people. "Do you think music can really change something? OK, just the people who come to listen to me, who understand what I'm singing. The world is big and very difficult to change," he said with as much of a sense of humility as reality.

(Originally published in The Japan Times August 2002)