Kongo Magni
While his Malian compatriot Ali Farka Touré's output is redolent of John Lee Hooker and blistering high noons on two continents, Boubacar Traoré'sKhassonke-bred form of "African blues" evokes Robert Johnson and cautionary fables about avoiding crossroads at twilight. But although he deplores the bitter state of the world and is in perpetual mourning for personal losses, he is also guardedly optimistic about his new granddaughter's future, recommending dignity and self-sufficiency as building blocks for a useful, happy life. For this outing, the lone troubadour is joined by a sympathetic and respectful team of collaborators. The acoustic backup blooms with robust squeezebox and harmonica, plangentkameli nogoni(young person¹s harp), skittishbalafon(xylophone) ripples and hissing, rattling percussion. Known familiarly asKar Kar, Traoré began his career as a pop star and well comprehends the impact of a good hook -- his songs may be more conventionally melodic than those of his great countryman but their aching, shadow-haunted beauty is no less primal. His rough-hewn, discursive, keening voice, in dialogue with the chiming modal arpeggios of his guitar, expresses a voluptuous fatalism that sends chills racing up and down the spine. --Christina Roden