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Boubacar Traoré

By Jesse Kornbluth
Published: Apr 10, 2024
Category: World

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In 1960, as Mali was becoming independent, Boubacar Traoré was its Elvis Presley. He was on the radio every day, singing “Mali Twist.” Come home, he cried. Help us build our country. And his brothers heard him, and they threw themselves into building their nation. But he  didn’t make records, so he made no money. To support his wife and six children, he became a tailor, then a salesman. His wife died. Crushed, he fled to Paris, where he was a construction worker. And then he was rediscovered. At 65.

When I saw him in New York two decades ago, Traoré came on stage with one amplified acoustic guitar. He was accompanied by a drummer who clicked an overturned gourd with his rings, occasionally pounding it with the heel of his palm.

My expectations ranged from zero to modest.

I knew a fair amount about the music of Mali, how it infused America’s Delta blues with African rhythm and tuning. But Traoré was working at a level beyond anything I’d heard. When he played softly, his guitar was a whispered voice, ghostly and precise; when he played with volume, he was a one-man blues band. And then there was the not inconsiderable factor of his voice, which accessed all the known emotions and the wisdom of the ages.

Women threw money. There were ovations. Traoré held up his hands to stop them, then modestly tapped his heart. A magnificent evening.

Traoré’s songs blends into one another and he sings in French, both ideal for a writer — his music cuts the loneliness of being alone all day. It’s not soothing, it’s not stimulating. It just tunes you. It’s present without becoming a presence. At night, in the dark, he makes you want to stay up late. As ever, just a few instruments: guitar, percussion, harmonica. As ever, songs about loved ones and Mali. As ever, a guitar that’s shining surface and gleaming chords and a voice from beyond time. Levels and levels. Gorgeous. [To buy the CD of “Mali Denhou” from Amazon, click here. For the MP3 download, click here.]

Mali was once the trading capital of the world — remember Timbuktu? Now it’s 65% desert. Less than half the people are literate; life expectancy is 45. There are assaults by the Taliban. There is drought. Malaria. But there is also some of the planet’s most amazing architecture: mosques made of mud, sandstone villages carved into cliffs. And then there is music — enormously sophisticated music, so sophisticated that it’s hard to believe it’s produced in the world’s fifth poorest country.

See — I mean: listen — for yourself. Late at night, with the lights out, play these:

BONUS VIDEO

“Kar Kar Madison” is Traore’s version of the 1960s dance craze, “The Madison.” [For the Amazon MP3 download, click here.]