I was saddened to learn (via the
unstoppable Norwegian) that Ali Farka Touré, one of Africa’s greatest musicians,
has passed away. The albums of his that I have are beautiful things, sort of warm and sad and spooky at all once. The most interesting thing about them, for me, is how they manage to sound exotic and familiar at the same time. We are used to thinking of America as a big cultural receptacle, with our art taking things from older places and refashioning it into something new. In Touré’s work, however, we can see a more complicated sort of exchange. You can hear John Lee Hooker in his sound, you can hear the Mississippi Delta as much as the Mali desert. Its interesting, the way an African musician can be influenced by American musicians who were themselves shaped by African styles and forms. That, however, is only one level of Touré’s artistry. Above this stands his individual brilliance, the mysterious, devotional, and haunted sound his guitar and voice create when they come together.
I was saddened to learn (via the unstoppable Norwegian) that Ali Farka Touré, one of Africa’s greatest musicians, has passed away. The albums of his that I have are beautiful things, sort of warm and sad and spooky at all once. The most interesting thing about them, for me, is how they manage to sound exotic and familiar at the same time. We are used to thinking of America as a big cultural receptacle, with our art taking things from older places and refashioning it into something new. In Touré’s work, however, we can see a more complicated sort of exchange. You can hear John Lee Hooker in his sound, you can hear the Mississippi Delta as much as the Mali desert. Its interesting, the way an African musician can be influenced by American musicians who were themselves shaped by African styles and forms. That, however, is only one level of Touré’s artistry. Above this stands his individual brilliance, the mysterious, devotional, and haunted sound his guitar and voice create when they come together.
