- The Observer, Sunday 19 February 2006
In the extreme heat, all the senses get seared. Driving through the central markets of the Malian capital is like a funfair ride, without the fun, but with all the excitement; a ram-packed orgy of dusty commerce in oranges, bananas, fake Ray-Bans, boxer shorts, mobile phone cards, cassettes and tyres which pour over here from the sweatshops of the Far East. The choice of goods is endless, the profusion terrifying.
Ali Farka Touré's Studio Bogolan, where the group Tinariwen are busy recording their third album, is an oasis of air-conditioning and expensive technology... the perfect place for the soft-in-the-middle whitey to take refuge. Outside, in the toxic heat, the bonfire of survival that is modern-day Bamako produces a megawattage of musical energy that is quite extraordinary. The old guard lord it over the scene like benevolent royalty: Salif Keita in his Wanda Recording Studios; Oumou Sangare running her hotel, The Wassoulou, while she plans her next move; Ali Farka Touré battling cancer with the obstinacy that earned him his middle name ('farka' means 'donkey' in Songhai); and Toumani Diabate, although he's in Los Angeles to pick up the Grammy he and Ali have won for their album In the Heart of the Moon
But the name that shines brightest through the haze is that of the outspoken reggae singer Tiken Jah Fakoly. His appearance at last week's Festival of the Niger in Segou created a riverside riot. Meanwhile a new generation are finding means of making Malian music danceable again, doing battle with the formulaic Congolese coupé-cloué dances that have invaded the local clubs. It's all a matter of modernising the music to give it a chance of survival. And then there's the rap, so much rap - but that's another story entirely. Thank the Lord for air con!
