Volume One, 1970-1979 by Sorry Bamba
LABEL: Thrill Jockey

Indie label Thrill Jockey offers us a glimpse at the apex of Malian bandleader Sorry Bamba’s career, ten classic post-colonial jams curated by the guitarists from Extra Golden, a benga-rock crossover act, along with help from Sorry Bamba himself. At first forbidden to explore his interest in music due to Mali’s strict caste system — he was not a griot, he was a military baby — the death of his parents when he was only ten years old eased this rigidity in a bittersweet way. Who would deny him solace? “Music softened my pain as an orphan and became my family,” he says. It all began when he received a French six-holed pipe which never left him.

He and his band broke out. Bamba says in an interview, “I was devoured by curiosity,” and as the road stretched out before Group Goumbe, the twenty-year-old’s first band, Bamba taught himself to play trumpet. He didn’t need training; his insatiable passion drove him ever onward. The band’s bass drum was a goatskin stretched over each opening of a metal barrel; the castanets were a tin box full of pebbles. Ten years later, thanks to this drive, Bamba’s Kanaga Orchestra of Mopti was one of the premiere popular musical acts in Mali, not to mention being state-sponsored. Along the way, Bamba also became an accomplished singer and flautist, and was, in fact, in charge of another orchestra. More importantly, Mali had gained independence from France in 1960, and was beginning to conceive of its nascent national identity.

“Dance to it if you want or sink into the bottomless creativity implicit on each and every song — or dissect the political significance of its crossover aesthetic.”

Similar to the eminent Bamako Rail Band, the sound Bamba and the Kanaga Orchestra achieve on this record is one of tangled roots. Mopti, known as “The Venice of Mali,” was a hotbed of artistic and cultural diversity which unquestionably influenced Bamba. As bandleader, he meshes a traditional, homegrown Malian sound with funk, soul, and Afro-Cuban jams, the diasporic musical children reuniting with their bright-eyed ancestors —  check out the guitar solo on backside-oriented “Yayoroba,” the unrueful balladry of “Aisse,” and the minor-key blaze of “Astan Kelly,” where Bamba’s flute comes to the fore. Following it is the live recording “Sekou Amadou,” a simmering, sultry effort with Bamba’s vocals sometimes reaching an almost chant-like, rhythmic fever pitch.

The songs here run the gamut of idiom and expression, and this variety keeps the compilation compelling. The pace is mostly mid-tempo, though rarely stolid. Traditional Malian sounds form the foundation of the aesthetic — check the time signature tomfoolery on standout second track “Boro” as it subtly phases in and out of facets of the groove, or the propulsive rhythm punctuating the regal horns on closer “Sare Mabo.” Indeed, tradition runs deep here: the band name refers to an important Dogon mask representing creator god Amma, as well as to the kanaga dance representing the orbit of the galaxy, both pivotal ritual elements in the dama, a Dogon funereal ceremony.

But with the creation of Radio Mali and the competitions of Youth Week in Bamako, Kanaga and other then-contemporary Malian groups strove to modernize the nation’s sound, spurred by progressive president Modibo Keita. Bamba was at the forefront of this aesthetic evolution, and electric keyboards and guitars update the traditional sound here. A tittering keyboard line serves as the foundation for “Bayadjourou,” Mamadou Koko Dembele’s almost-psychedelic guitar solo pinching and itching like a dragonfly at the Niger-Bani confluence.

Pounding, summery standout “Sayouwe” features a synth from space engaging in a conversation with the guitar. Like elsewhere, the horns are the cherry on top. This track exemplifies Bamba’s process of modernizing Dogon musical idioms, and as elsewhere on the record, the vibrant pop throb of the arrangement almost succeeds in masking the complexity of composition.

Dance to it if you want or sink into the bottomless creativity implicit on each and every song — or dissect the political significance of its crossover aesthetic. I feel like this compilation is so well-done that you either like it or you love it — there’s no real room for disdain or displeasure. Whatever you do, rest assured that one fact is certainly the best aspect of this record: it’s Volume One. There’s more to come. Strongly recommended.


REVIEWED BY MANUEL ABREU
MANUEL’S FAVORITE TRACKS: “Boro” • “Sayouwe” • “Bayadjourou”

  Sorry Bamba - Sayouwe by thrilljockey