Our resident music guru Robert Leaver has agreed to review his favorite records/CDs. Robert was the owner of San Francisco’s Round World Music, a former record producer, and worked for Sterns African Music in London.
Review of Talking Timbuktu by Ali Farka Touré & Ry Cooder (Hannibal Records / World Circuit Records, 1994)
When a friend asked me to write something about my favorite album I had to pause to ponder. There are so many candidates. I have been a music fan since I was young. I started with 45 rpm singles & vinyl LP records (I had to correct my daughter the other day when she referred to “vinyls” we say LPs or records, right?), then cassettes, 8 track tapes (perhaps the worst music delivery device ever invented), then on to CDs and, finally, digital files. As I gazed around my music library a plaque jumped off the wall, so to speak, given to me for helping to sell so many of a particular World Music album. Seeing this plaque triggered memories and feelings of that album and I was transported into a state of reverie over the mysterious tones and voices, heavy vibe, exotic string sounds, and downright swampy electric slide that cuts through the musical landscape like a machete through sugarcane. This album was and is like nothing I had ever heard before or since. I’m proud of the fact that I had a small part to play in its success, having sold probably 500 copies of the CD myself directly at my store Round World Music in San Francisco. I reckon that nobody who bought the record from me was disappointed. On the contrary, I bet many of them are still listening to it 25 years later. It was a damn easy record to sell. All you had to do was play it. Whoever happened to be in the store, if they had not yet heard it, would ask, in a state of astonishment, “What’s that playing?” Well, I would say, it just happens to be that I know some of the cast of characters and the backstory of this record, so let me tell you who is playing and how it came to be.
Talking Timbuktu is a collaboration between Malian guitarist and singer Ali Farka Touré and virtuoso American guitarist and rootsman Ry Cooder. Touré began performing in Europe in the late 80s to great adulation for his prodigious guitar talent and for bringing a Rock-like panache to the traditional music(s) of Mali that comprised his song book (Touré was also proficient on traditional instruments the n’goni, the djerkel, and the njarka violin). Touré’s guitar mastery and his singing gave some World Music enthusiasts pause to ponder if they were seeing the roots of the blues incarnate. Academics and journalists could hardly contain their excitement at having found a living musical artifact in Touré, but upon reflecting upon his musical influences Touré mentioned none other than the great American bluesman John Lee Hooker thus making it difficult to claim Touré as the lost root of the blues. Nevertheless, Cooder likens Touré’s music to a “a pre-organized” blues.
Cooder’s electric guitar adds textures and flashes of inspired notes that complement the fluid riffs that Touré pulls out of his guitar. Cooder has always been a musician’s musician and his range of collaboration and musical exploration runs from American roots styles of blues and bluegrass to rock experimentation with Captain Beefheart to the soundtrack to Wim Wenders’ film Paris, Texas. Cooder’s collaboration with Indian guitarist V.M. Bhatt, Meeting by the River (1993, Water Lily Acoustics) is a masterwork as are his versions of Americana blending blues, country, soul and Tex-Mex on his albums Chicken Skin Music (1976, Reprise) and Boomer’s Story (1972, Reprise). I would add Talking Timbuktu to my timeless classics list as well as another little collaboration he recorded in Havana, Cuba called Buena Vista Social Club (1997, World Circuit). What most people do not know is that Cooder went down to Havana to produce a follow up to the successful Talking Timbuktu but Touré and his band could not get their visas in time so Cooder gathered together a number of Cuban veteran musicians (with the help of Juan de Marcos Gonzalez of Sierra Maestra and Afro-Cuban All Stars fame) and made the Buena Vista recordings. Born of fortunate happenstance, these albums became the most successful albums of Cooder’s career. Further up the road Nick Gold had the opportunity to make a similar record to the one he intended to with Touré and Cooder in Havana AfroCubism (2010 World Circuit).
Touré’s songs, mostly slow or mid-tempo, use repetition to mesmerize the listener into a sentient reverie that seems beyond (or before) words. Unlike most traditional blues guitarists, Touré’s music is modal, meaning that it is all played on the same chord—as is the traditional music of Mali and that general region of Africa. Although he may not be in the upper echelon of singers from that region of Africa, his vocals are solid and heartfelt and have that hint of Islam that seems to come from the Saharan breeze. His vocals flow gently as he sings with a nasal tone that emanates from the back of the throat and when he dips down to a baritone there is a kind of harmonic overtone like one hears when a spiritual devotee hums ”om.” While, when he ascends vocally, his full-throated voice calls out like a muezzin’s call to prayer ringing out from the parapet of a desert Mosque calling on the faithful to gather.
In an interview Cooder praised Touré for his musical talent, humor and the surprises (musical challenges) he would spring, such as changing tunings in the middle of a song. He goes on to describe the songs with a unique comparison, saying they were like Lightnin’ Hopkins tunes played backwards (Hopkins was an acoustic guitar blues singer from Texas). Cooder notes that the flattened third and seventh notes are found in both Touré’s tradition and the blues and pays him a compliment when he says, “He’s no salesman.” He is the real deal, both authentic and sincere and his intuitive affinity to the Blues is readily apparent. There is no mystery why he singles out John Lee Hooker as an influence.
In my ear Cooder’s guitar work adds a swampy twang that ties a harmolodic twine around gathered twigs of Saharan and sub-Saharan rhythmic harmonies. Those twigs and twine are the essential Africanisms that allow for this spiritual meeting of souls and celebration of ancestral heritage in its finest manifestation of creativity in art and music. Their combined talents create a kind of Afro-blues-folk dialogue that stretches back from the African Diaspora here in the Americas, and crosses back to Africa. The result is a sound that feels timeless like they tapped into a common source and harmonized around the frayed edges of their glorious construct.
The drumming adds more vigor to up-tempo songs and enhances the slower, contemplative tunes. Sweet minor melodies linger stick with you like an eloquent statement of truth revealed in secret code. Their commingled tones and patterns mesh perfectly revealing that magical moment when musicians dig down and bear their souls, finding that perfect expression of pure love. They both seem to be able to draw deep from their distinct wailing wells, seemingly connected through some underground source of truth. Though Cooder and Touré come from places thousands of miles apart, they seem to pull from the same source.
I have been privileged to watch Ali Farka Touré’s career with a view from the inside of the music industry (I worked for Stern’s African Music in London at the time). A last-minute invite to see his first performance in the UK in a small North London pub opened my ears to a sound that seemed so new yet hauntingly ancient. Among the small gathering at this pub were a number of us from Sterns as well as journalists, DJs, and legendary music producer Joe Boyd, an American from Boston who had made seminal recordings of English folk artists in the 60s and 70s (Nick Drake, Richard Thompson, Fairport Convention, and the Incredible String Band among others).
I can testify to the overwhelming authority Touré commanded on stage that night and every time I saw him since that performance. His stage presence was wrought by his expressive visage and elegantly tall frame. Those who witnessed him perform were drawn into the heart of his song as if he were casting a magic spell on them. His joy of playing was as obvious as his sheer talent. The way his body moved with the groove bore witness to the visceral primacy of his performance. Rooted in oral traditions and played mostly with guitar and traditional instruments his songs and interpretations are deep excursions into the essence of ancient Mali and the Sahel region of North Africa on the cusp of the Sahara. There are songs of praise with philosophical observations, melodies and lyrics that celebrate life and harmonies that emphasize the participatory, communal function of the music. I liken him to a wizened elder holding the rapt attention of the villagers as he tells tales of the bravery, valor, and folly of their ancestors while they sit gathered round a fire. One feels he is passing on folkloric riches from oral tradition as his grandfathers did and their grandfathers before them. I remember stopping at the bar and telling him in my limited French that his show was amazing.
Producer Nick Gold invited Cooder to dinner with Touré where they passed around and played guitars, told some jokes, and agreed to record together. Cooder’s production aesthetic matched perfectly with Gold’s. They recorded the album in Los Angeles and played a few gigs when the album was released including the Jazz and Heritage Festival in New Orleans. They also played Great American Music Hall in San Francisco, (one of my favorite music venues because of its superb acoustics, big stage, and mirrored walls) and I remember it was a captivating performance. Touré’s return several years later also sticks out in my mind as another memorable performance.
Boyd had great success releasing Talking Timbuktu in America on his Hannibal Records label along with Nick Gold founder of World Circuit Records. Gold has produced all of Touré’s records since that casual performance in a small pub in North London. Not only did Gold recognize the talent and potential of Touré but savvy enough to invite Cooder’s participation not only as a musician but as the recording’s producer. Cooder talks of how they mapped out the songs conceptually but did not adhere to a strict structure which meant they have to reach out for the songs and create the space to trade solos & improvise. Gold’s high sound standard, sympathetic, musician-centric production values, and command of the recording and post-production process helped make most of World Circuit’s records smashing successes.
Talking Timbuktu—The Songs
Talking Timbuktu sets a tone from the get-go with track one, “Bonde.” Touré fingerpicks a repetitive, evolving riff propelled forward by an insistent rhythm tapped out with sticks on a large hollowed calabash gourd while Cooder squeezes a swirling buzz and hum from a Turkish cumbus, a banjo looking instrument with 6 courses of strings. The overall effect is hypnotic and draws you into the depths of the crossing patterns. “Soukora’s” sweet melody slowly evolves into an exquisite blend of acoustic and electric guitar sounds where each seemingly casual trill and spartan strum sparkles as plucky riffs blend together into an expansive improvisational delight of texture and color. Both virtuosos reveal the range of their talents but play cooperatively as they feel out the musical space. Call and response vocals begin in short order and continue throughout making one feel compelled to hum along with the harmonizing chorus vocals.
In “Gonmi,” the wide full-bodied guitar strokes set the stage for Cooder’s serpentine slide guitar which slowly unwinds as Touré and his Malian musicians gently harmonize. The tonal presence of Cooder’s play slices through the ether and hangs ecstatically on a note, as a slowly fading wave of reverb washes over the melodious harmonics and linger like a pleasurable moan as the song ends. Touré’s vocals are ripe with earnest passion and, while rough around the edges, soften the lead and flesh it out with a baritone-dipping, flattened chorus sustain.
As mentioned, in addition to being a guitar virtuoso Touré is also a master of the one string fiddle called the djerkel, an ancient folkloric instrument from the cusp of the Saharan desert, which adds some higher range tonalities along with its slight shrill providing a dissonant counterpoint. He proves the truth of this assertion on “Sega” the short folkloric, instrumental interlude titled Sega. Cooder comes out reaching for the stars on the next track at the end of side A. “Amandrai” the longest song on the record, is like a slow driving blues dirge that kicks off with veteran L.A. session drummer extraordinaire, Jim Keltner setting the tempo on trap drums. One can imagine John Lee Hooker grinding out this tune on a street corner of South Chicago when Touré, like a brother from another planet mysteriously appears with his guitar to join in with plaintive, soul-bearing vocals. Almost ten minutes in length, Cooder is given time to conjure some stunning, warbly slide-guitar vapor trails while Touré responds carrying the melody.
The B-side, as it was on the original vinyl release (1994 World Circuit) starts out with the most up-tempo tune on the album, “Lasida.” Touré comes off like a desert shaman evoking the forces of nature on the “talking blues” of “Keito” while Cooder adds an otherworldly hum and buzz, employing the long neck plucked instrument from India called tanpura (credited as tambora) and its continuous harmonic drone.
Once again Touré breaks out his djerkel for the song “Banga,” a pondering short instrumental that makes pointed use of the instrument’s sharp range and ancient tribal tonality. If there were such a phenomenon as desert blues this tune evokes dry hot waves of heat emanating from a blistering hot endless blanket of sparkling sand stretching to unknown horizons.
In “Ai Du” (a play on Adieu, French for goodbye, or maybe Touré coyly signaling his thanks to his God, in this case, Allah) Cooder employs the sweet simplicity of a strummed mandolin and doubles up, slicing in with electric licks while Touré sings a slow almost weary tune firmly anchored by the drum kick of Keltner’s sparse kit. Arriving at the end of their set as signaled by the title of the previously mentioned tune, they dip into a Malian standard of sorts for their encore tune here. “Diaraby” is perhaps the most ancient and beloved of Manding love songs, in a stripped down arrangement which allows Cooder the space to sweep in on a fully fleshed, reverb slide flourish that resonates with an ethereal presence.
Listening to this record allows me to imagine myself in the Saharan desert on a clear night gazing into a shock-purple sky replete stars dancing around and forming patterns that emerge then dissolve. What Cooder adds to this already sublime picture in my mind, is shooting stars and lightning flashes, a thundercrack that you feel deep in your bones. Almost as if it were destined to be, this meeting of maestros had an immediate impact. Unique and superb on so many levels, the impact of its release was immediate. Nothing like this had ever been heard before, nor since. It is no wonder then that it enjoyed the endorsement of the World Music fans, college and alt radio DJs, and public radio programmers. In fact, their enthusiastic embrace, in particular its use as the theme tune on PRI’s The World radio show helped etch the distinct sound of this record into collective consciousness, where it remains eternal like the desert sky.