Rise of the machine

The other day I was reading about the potential threat of robots. Apparently even respected scientists like Stephen Hawking are warning against the rise of the machine. Here in the Netherlands there seem
to be opposing points of view, albeit by the same persons. Our present Dutch government, for example, sees technology as the main driving force behind the economy, while at the same warning against loss of jobs as a result of increased automation and computerisation. In the meantime millions (and more) are lost on computerisation projects failing.
I can imaging how this would lead to economic gain, in the same way that bombs and ammunition are a economically very profitable venture, - from the purely capitalistic point of view of the manufacturer at least (boom!! - and it's gone).

In my experience automation projects have a strong tendency to fail for one reason: the human factor. On the one hand suppliers of the automated solution are inclined to impose their wonderful 'technical advancements' on the future users, while on the other hand users are simply unable to visualise the end-result. Unfortunately this often leaves the suppliers to do whatever they want or see as "the best solution for the customer". The idea that the final product requires an intricate knowledge of technology does not occur to the supplier, while the user doesn't want to be caught out as a digital dunce. The balance between supplier and user is disturbed even further by present-day managers, for whom staff is mostly seen as a negative influence on profits and automation as the best way to correct this.

In music we have seen a similar move towards automation. The extreme exponents of this musical rise of the machine are the Tiësto's, Armin van Buurens and Afrojacks* of today. Skilled artists have been replaced by a single person mixing their music using machines.
The rise of the machine in music started way before the rise of computers. The relative innocent Solovox organ, introduced into African music in the mid-1950s, at least added a new sound. The same can be said for the organs used in the 1970s and 1980s. Generally they were used as an adornment and not as a replacement for other instruments and their players. That is: not until this was demanded by western producers.
Several musicians I talked to in the 1980s told me that there was always a limit to the number of persons they could take on a tour. So at a time when many musicians travelled outside Africa for the first time and became known to a western public, they often performed with reduced formations. This became more of an issue in the second half of the 1980s. Groups were more than often 'completed' by local artists or musicians; at first by countrymen of the imported performers, but later on by (at best) native professionals or (even) native amateurs.
This trend coincided with cuts on another level: the often impressive horn sections were replaced completely - you guessed - by machines.
One may argue that we were lucky to see artists in the first place. But let me refute this with this question: how would you feel if the horn section in a concerto by Mozart was replaced by a synthesizer?

Personally I have objected to the replacement of those lucious horn sections by the constipated sound of synthesizers since the late-1970s. And we were lucky to see the O.K. Jazz when they were still "Tout Puissant", to see Fela's Egypt '80 blowing us straight to heaven and back, to hear the suave harmonies of the horns of Super Biton, Les Ambassadeurs, Bembeya Jazz and all those orchestras that would be and are left amputated without the horns.
And the worst is: there is plenty of evidence that it must have been even better before! Listen to those marvels by the likes of E.T. Mensah, the Black Beats, Victor Olaiya, Balladins, Tambourinis... Listen to the uncontroled lunacy (but one that never stops bringing a huge grin to my face) of that trumpet player with Mbaraka Mwinshehe, to those blaring horns of Etoile de Dakar, to immortals like Dexter Johnson...
And I could go on.
I don't even want to start about the horn sections in other parts of the world. The two minutes of the horn section in this video just bring tears to my eyes.....

I am sure you are wondering where this is leading to. Perhaps you expect me to post the best horn sections in African music ever, much in the vein of the top 100 (or top 10, 2000 or any other number) lists that are prevalent at this time of the year**. If so, you are going to be disappointed.
For it is actually the machine I would like to focus on. The single man and his machine.

The decline of the one can precipitate the rise of the other. For as the large orchestras became too complicated to bring over, too expensive to maintain on tour, and subsequently - when horns were replaced by synths - too unlike their former selves, the appeal of the lone artist grew. Initially more for the tour organisers, who saw the single musician as less of a financial risk. And gradually also for the public, often with the aid of clever marketing. When the artist was actually supported by or part of a band or group, like for example Oumou Sangaré, Salif Keita, (perhaps to a lesser extent) Zani Diabaté or you name it, the name presented to the public would still be that of the artist, making the musicians supporting the artist interchangeable (and therefore less of an economic liability). This setup, although certainly beneficial for the 'stars' involved, at times led to frustration with the more conscientious artists. I remember Ali Farka Touré (an artist with a strong feeling of cultural inheritance) expressing his annoyance about not being able to bring a larger ensemble on tour. Having seen larger (and even large) ensembles in Mali I understand his frustration.

One group of musicians also benefited from this individualisation: the ones that already - and traditionally - were able to perform alone. For there was already a group of 'men with their machine'. Kora players like the great Batourou Sekou Kouyaté already were self-employed entrepreneurs, while at the same time being involved in large, medium-sized or petits ensembles. This flexibility came from their machine: the kora.

To accentuate the machine-like quality of the instrument I am not sharing a recording of the aforementioned Batourou Sekou, but one by the man who more than any other kora player managed to bring out the metal sound in the kora (and in his singing too, as you can hear in the album I posted before): Lalo Keba Dramé.

This album, released on the N'Dardisc label, has Dramé's versions of some of the Mandinka classics covered by many of his colleagues. Typically his versions are less laid-back, more energetic, if not at times even frantic. I haven't heard any recordings of Lalo Keba Dramé accompanying a female griot, and given the imposing style of his kora playing I can understand why.
This is a very individual album, in a very individual style.

N'Dardisc 33-13

As a special festive bonus I am adding this great video by Malian kora legend Sidiki Diabaté and his son Toumani. The son has become more famous than his father, particularly outside of Mali, but if you ask me not for the right reasons. Personally I am not a great fan of the cross-over, and least of all of kora players 'battling it out' with fading western instrumentalists in an attempt to enter into 'arty', commercially lucrative new-age circles. I do like his more modest, less pretentious work, both as a solo performer and with ensembles. But his father is of a different league and of a very different era in Malian music. An era in which the competition was fierce, and in which the influence of tradition was predominant.
As far as I can gather Sidiki is explaining - to host and presenter Zoumana Yoro Traoré and to the Malian public - the origin of his machine. A truely historic document.
Unfortunately I don't have the whole video, and it breaks off after 17'30.




* and the fact that I only know these Dutch dj's is only because they are presented in shows on Dutch TV as Dutch celebrities.
** I have no intention at all of ever contributing to this sort of madness. And not just because it is almost impossible to compare artists, performances and recordings, but also because my preferences vary immensely with my mood, with my environment, the time of day, the weather, the season, - and I could go on...

Macki

I have added the last of the three songs I have of Fanta Damba No.2, recorded at the R.T.M. in Bamako in 1983 for the series "L'artiste et sa musique" presented by Zoumana Yoro Traoré (see the earlier post). Accompanying her were Bouba Sacko (guitar - also see here) and Moctar Koné. This song, "Macki", is really the first of the three.

Zoumana Yoro Traoré was a well-known presenter at the RTM. You may have seen him with the videos of Coumba Sidibé, Kandia Kouyaté, Ami Koita and others. Some ten years ago I heard he had moved to France; this was later confirmed by an article on MaliWeb, and by an article in which he was said to be living in bad conditions (little or no work, separated from his children/family). I am not sure if he has returned to Mali since.

So the order is:
1. "Macki", better known as "Maki" or "Maki-Tara".


2. "Duga" (or "Douga")


3. "Jajiri"

Lemon or lime

A few days ago I stumbled upon the video by Karamoko Keita which you can find at the bottom of this post. Although I was looking for something else I couldn't help but watch the whole video. The thing is, this man has got certain 'je-ne-sais-quoi' which really appeals to me. I like his singing style, which is old-school Bambara (pentatonic) without being mouldy. The quality of the video is slightly below poor to hopeless, but just watching the movement, both of Karamoko himself and the chorus in the background, makes me irrationally happy.

I first heard his music during one of my first visits to Mali in the 1980s. To be honest, it was very difficult not to hear it because everybody was playing it, in the streets of Bamako and in every town and village I visited. The children were singing Karamoko's songs and their parents knew every single word of the lyrics.
They were playing this cassette, recorded for Malian radio, and here in the release of the Super Sound label of Monrovia, Liberia. You can see the first song, "Diama", in a video which I posted earlier.

This cassette just oozes old-style Malian music. And if you ask me it even oozes old-style Mali. I can't help but thinking of that friendly and hospitable people I encountered all over the country. People were curious without being nosey, warm without being pushy... They shared the little they had and demanded nothing in return. It was, in short, a country that was easy to fall in love with.
I know a lot has changed since those days, but I am sure these qualities are still there, perhaps hidden under a layer of cautiousness. A defence which may be the result of the invasion from neighbouring countries over the last decades, - or of the opening up to the modern world in general.

This is one of those cassettes with shifting favourites. All tracks are great, so it depends on moods, susceptability and environment which I prefer. When I first heard it it was "Lemourou". In hindsight I think this may have had to do with hearing this in the villages, where little girls were chanting it. I asked them what it meant and they contorted their faces. Later on someone told me it meant "citron" (lemon), but then I saw someone selling limes shouting "lemourou". My guess is it means both lemon and lime.

Super Sound SS-36

And, as mentioned above, here is another song from the same concert as the video I posted before. Karamoko with a somewhat larger ensemble and dancing, which adds an extra element of joy to his songs, if you ask me.

No.2

Another (short) post in the series of countermeasures.

With this magnificent video by Fanta Damba No.2 (recorded by the RTM in 1983) one can't help but thinking: if this is number two, what is number one going to be like?
For this is a real masterpiece.
From the very first note Fanta Damba goes straight for the jugular. And although she is accompanied by only two musicians it feels like there is a huge ensemble at work. Those two musicians are of the top league of Malian accompagnateurs: on ngoni Moriba Koita* Moctar Koné (see comments - his identity has not yet been confirmed, but it seems very likely this is him) and on guitar the ubiquitous Bouba Sacko, who you may remember from the Ami Koita video I posted not too long ago.

Fanta Damba's vocal power and the ease of her singing in this song is certainly a highlight in Malian music. When I rediscovered it a few days ago, going through a pile of video cassettes, I watched the full twenty minutes with open mouth, tears streaming down my cheeks.

The song is "Duga" ("vulture"), one of the oldest songs in Malian musical tradition. And although the song is often linked to the epics surrounding Da Monzon Diarra and the Bambara empire of Ségou, there are apparently also people who claim it is a Malinke classic. I recommend reading these - varied - explanations about the lyrics and origin of this song, which can be found here.

A remarkable moment at the beginning is when Fanta is rearranging her foulard; it is the first time I have seen presenter Zoumana Yoro Traoré laugh....



*I was initially sure I heard Zoumana Yoro mentioning Moriba Koita in his introduction of this song. But if you compare this video with the one of Ami Koita, you will have to agree that this is not the same ngoni player. If you have any idea about the surname of this Moctar, please let us know.

EDIT February 28, 2013: Flemming Harrev has sent me a scan of the back of the sleeve of Fanta Damba's record SP 005 which has a photo of Moctar (or Mocktar or Mouctar) Koné:
It's him in the video, don't you agree?

Finesse

Recently the owner of the (highly recommended) Malian Divas channel on YouTube asked me why I have never posted any music by the third (see below) of those magic Malian divas of the 1980s: Ami Koita.
I admit I did not have a good answer, apart from that I just haven't got round to her.

But perhaps there is another, subconscious reason for my omission. I have met Ami Koita, when she visited the Netherlands in 1991.
On the LolaRadio blog you can find recordings made during this trip by VPRO Radio (and a few days later she also performed in "Reiziger in de muziek" on VPRO TV).
Both Ami Koita and her daughter, who backed her mother in the chorus, were very friendly. But it was impossible to talk to Ami more than a minute as her husband (on the left, holding a camera with which he videoed his wife's every move) was constantly making his presence known. And not only by standing in the background, but also by answering questions for his wife and physically putting himself between his wife and whoever wanted to talk to her.
I later found out that this was the result of an extreme case of jealousy, and several rumours have gone 'round in Mali as to the (possible) grounds for this jealousy.
One way or another, this has perhaps played a role in my apprecation of Ms. Koita.

Getting back to her being the third: the other two of what was like the 'holy trinity' in Malian divaness in the 1980s were of course Kandia Kouyaté and Tata Bambo Kouyaté. And that reminds me that I should be digging up some more of those two in the near future.

Anyway, I would like to share with you this cassette recorded in the late 1970s. The quality of the cassette is dubious, to say the least. And I have tried to remove the extreme hiss*.
But I love the music. Ami Koita's rendition of the classic "Tara" is up there with the very best. And Nene Daou and Lassana Sacko have probably donated their life savings after being immortalised by Ami.

S4307 cassette or S4307 (speed adjusted - see below)

And as a further illustration of Ami Koita's talent I would like to share with you this first part of a programme entitled "L'Artiste et Sa Musique" featuring Ami Koita "& son ensemble". And this ensemble consists of two great accompagnateurs: Moriba Koita and Bouba Sacko (see my earlier post). The show is presented by Zoumana Yoro Traoré, whom you may remember from the videos I posted by Kandia Kouyaté and Coumba Sidibé. I will post the remaining part of this programme at a later date. Ami is interpreting "Djeliya", a kind of metadata song, a song about griotism. Compared to Tata Bambo's song with the same title, which I have posted four years ago, you will have to agree that Ami's song is more delicate. Both her interpretation and appearance do justice to her reputation as the djeli with finesse.


P.S.: More to follow before the end of the year....

EDIT December 30, 2012: Ngoni has pointed out (see comments) that there may be a problem with the speed of this cassette. I have slowed down the recording to the speed he suggests, and it does sound better. So I have added a link to the slower version.

* And in case there is any demand for the 'raw' sound of the untampered original, send me an email.

Bouba

This is a short post about yet another Malian legend who has passed away. Although a virtuoso ngoni and guitar player, Bouba Sacko was perhaps not so well known as others, like Djelimady Tounkara. His career, however, is at least as impressive. In Mali he was well known as an accompagnateur of Malian divas. He played with them all. Rising stars knew they could boost their career by calling in the help of Bouba. For being accompanied by Bouba Sacko almost was a guarantee for success. You can read more about his musical career in this article by Banning Eyre on the Afropop blog.

Bouba Sacko was less fortunate in his private life. I remember rumours went in the late 1990s that he had turned mad. Luckily he resurfaced and picked up his career. Just a few years ago, on October 11, 2008, his wife Djessira Koné, herself a jeli muso of great repute (certainly largely as a consequence of her marriage with Bouba), died. The loss - once more (according to some) - threw Bouba into a deep depression.
Even in death Bouba Sacko appears to be unlucky. According to reports he was quickly buried by the hospital after his demise. He didn't get the burial, with all the ceremonies which are a part of Malian culture, which he should have deserved given his status as vedette de la musique Malienne.

We have his music to remember him by. As an example I would like to share with you this video from the early 1990s. After seeing this I am sure you will recognise him again and again in all those wonderful Malian videos which can now be found on YouTube, - and particularly on Ngoni's great channel.

May he rest in peace.

P.S.: After uploading the video I saw that Ngoni too has uploaded a more recent version to his channel. I have the impression that the sound of my copy is slightly better, while perhaps the image of Ngoni's copy is better than mine. But I leave you to be the judge of this....

R.T.M.

I have been rummaging through my archives again and dug up some cassettes by Malian female singers. Singers who are perhaps relatively unknown in the western world. And there is a good reason for this, as Kandia Kouyaté (see earlier post, post and post) once explained to me.

One reason is that the music of these singers is uniquely directed at the local market. They sing at ceremonies like weddings and baptisms, at soirées (or 'sumu') and such. The scale of these events is usually such that most participants or persons attending are known to the singer, or people assisting the singer.

And that brings me to another, no - to the number one reason. This is, of course, an economic one. By praising, or at least singing about, respected, respectable and/or self-respecting members of the community the singer can make a good living. And in some cases even an excellent living. Anything from money, handbags, jewelry, items of clothing (pagnes but also silk, embroidered dresses etcetera) to cars and villas can be bestowed on a talented artist. The extent of gratitude on the part of the receiver of the praise is largely dependent of his or her social prestige, or at least the perceived social prestige.

And that is a key ingredient of Malian society: prestige. I have been to events where Malians friends did not dare show up, as they were - rightly - afraid that they would be the subject of griot flattery. As they were (temporarily) financially incapable to live up to their social status, they preferred to stay away. On the other hand I have seen poor Malians give away their family fortune when they fell into the hands of a griot who managed to hit the right button....

So that is why for most female griots there is no reason to gather fame abroad. Ironically the location of this talk with Kandia Kouyaté was Amsterdam......
But that is the subject of a future post.

This post is about one of the more succesful griots: Naini Diabaté. When I first travelled through Mali in the 1980s, there were plenty of stories going around about this singer, who was born in Bamako in 1963. One of the more spectacular ones was that Naini, being blind in one eye, during a heated performance had miscalculated the extent of the stage and had fallen into the crowd. Others claim that she was the first female griot to perform on Malian television in 1983, at the newly constructed (and Libyan funded) broadcasting centre of the R.T.M.. I have my doubts about this claim, but it is reasonably certain that Naini Diabaté rose to fame as a result of her television performances.

Seeing this video from a performance in (probably) 1988 will give you an idea why.


Naini in turn repaid the R.T.M. by singing its praise. And, if you ask me, this praise is well deserved. For the Radiodiffusion Télévision du Mali, which was renamed "Office de Radiodiffusion Télévision du Mali (ORTM)" in 1992, has served Mali - and in particular Malian culture - well. Not just by the many televised performances by Malian artists, but also by the wide range of audio recordings made at their studios. Many of which - by the way - were subsequently released on record or cassette outside Mali.

This is not the case with the cassette Naini recorded for Beny Mariko's label in 1988. I really like this cassette. And not just for the memories which it evokes for me. Not just in the title song "R.T.M." (yes again), but particularly in songs like "An Sako Be Ke", with its variety in amplitude, and the deeply soulful "Sory", the overwhelming "Diamou Niagale" and the skillful "Diagneko" Naini Diabaté demonstrates her maturity and tremendous power as a singer.

You can find more great videos by Naini Diabaté on Ngoniba's great Youtube channel.

Beny Mariko BM-018, 1988 [new link June 3, 2014]