Review Summary: Like water in the Sahara, Chatma is a bright and life-affirming desert blues.
While claiming all art is propaganda would be something of a stretch, the expression of spiritual and political ideologies is certainly high among the list of things art is used for, music being no exception. Especially in the case of political inclinations, this leaves music in danger of ending up as period pieces with the passing of time separating audiences from the context in which the music was originally produced. Alternatively, a difference in culture and geography brings about its own perspective as well. In the case of a Western listener like myself, Mali desert blues band Tamikrest’s politically inflected third album
Chatma (Tamashek word for “Sisters”, referring to the women suffering under a recently instated Islamist regime) has to contend with the inevitable critical distance of both politics and culture. Yet
Chatma crosses both with a vibrant mix of Western and African musical leanings.
While in Western popular music African influences often constitute an experimental turn – think late 70’s Eno, Talking Heads’
Remain in Light – in their home environment the rhythms and melodies assume a more natural and less pronounced form. While that is only to be expected, more impressive is the way in which Tamikrest’s incorporation of outside influences meshes organically with the rest. This is true even when things sound awful on paper. The second half of “Assikal”, for instance, stands out for its psychedelic twangs of electric guitar and a synth sound that with just a little imagination sounds like it came from Pink Floyd’s “Shine on You Crazy Diamond”, but the song somehow remains coherent.
That everything manages to sound natural is in large part thanks to the excellent guitars which define the sound of the album. For most part, there is the interplay between the rhythm and lead guitar, in turns electric and acoustic. In several songs just when it seems things might be getting stale, Tamikrest introduce a third guitar to re-energize the surroundings, as on “Toumast Anlet”. Beyond the chatter of guitars with one another,
Chatma as a whole is characterised by never-ending dialogue between guitar and the human voice. Nowhere is this more apparent than on the opener “Tisnant an Chatma”, where the two alternate in taking turns to speak, erupting in group chants and joyous guitar melodies.
Throughout the album, the guitars and singing are complemented by a touch of African woodwind, bass, synthesizer, and percussion made up of a regular set of drums, handclaps and a djembe drum. While guitar tends to revel in the spotlight, there are moments where the other instruments manage to draw attention to themselves. Playful and pronounced bass underlines the reggae-like “Itous”, and on “Djanegh Etoumast” other instruments shut up for a moment to make way for pummeling drums. The synthesizer’s role on the album is more subtle, painting the desert sky on the otherwise earth-bound musical canvass of
Chatma. The different details add up to a shifting landscape, beginning with the giddy early tracks like “Imanin Bas Zihoun”, then turning onto the album’s contemplative middle-section spearheaded by “Assikal”. Finally, the album ends with a melancholic feel most tangible on the touching penultimate track “Adounia Tabarat”.
Across all of
Chatma’s ten songs and roughly fourty minutes of running time, Tamikrest radiate a level of life-affirming energy which seems contradictory to their labeling as “desert blues”. After all, deserts are defined by their lifelessness while “having the blues” would in another environment indicate moodiness and introspection. For Tamikrest, the desert blues are the life-maintaining waters of the oasis, keeping them moving forward through harsh times such as those described on the record. Their insistence on moving forwards lets them cross not only the desert but also differences in culture and language, making
Chatma a record of universal appeal.
