As the title might suggest, this is an exploration of the multi-faceted traditional music of South America. The explorer in question is Robert Santiago, a Spanish-speaking French multi-instrumentalist, vocalist, writer, scholar and occasional actor who has travelled extensively with his diatonic accordion throughout South America in a seemingly insatiable quest for musical and spiritual inspiration. He and his four colleagues have been playing together as an orchestre for almost a decade and they are joined on this disc by a few guests, among them the celebrated Gypsy guitarist Raphaël Faÿs. Together they have produced a joyful and quirky celebration of South America’s musical legacy to the world. It works so well because it’s never simply a faithful copy. It’s a jamboree of cumbias, rumbas, mambos, merengues and other less obvious forms, such as the joropo, the bomba and the lilting, slightly reggaeish xote of north-east Brazil. Robert Santiago is never afraid to mix-and-match and experiment with the instrumentation and the delicious, accordion-led version of Pérez Prado’s ‘Mambo Lupita’, for example, is only one of several welcome surprises.
It’s almost invidious to pick out individual tracks. However, the album ends in contrast to its riotous opening with a touching ‘canción a mi mama’ sung by Santiago with the sole accompaniment of his accordion. There’s a distinct echo of Manu Chao; I doubt if Panamericana will ever sell in Clandestino’s quantities, but it’s just as endearing.
Mark Sampson

Having brought us an extraordinary disc of the music of Ananda Shankar, Saregama have once again delved into the archives to unearth some more splendid 1970s kitsch. Four figures dominated the Bollywood of the early 70s: the great music directors Shankarsingh Raghuwanshi and Jaikishan Dayabhai Panchal; and the two brothers Anandji and Kalyanji Virji Shah. Their joyous and unashamed eclecticism plundered scores from blaxploitation movies such as Shaft as well as Latin jazz and the spaghetti westerns of Ennio Morricone. It was all topped off with the well-established Bollywood vocal style to produce some of the most wonderfully brash and exuberant songs ever written. All their greatest hits are here, including Kalyanji’s amazing early use of electronic keyboard on ‘Been Music’, from the 1954 film Nagin. Performed by a star list of singers, including Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Bhosle and Mohammad Rafi, the songs are truly evocative of their time, and for lovers of Bollywood there are some real treats here. Among the very best are Mukesh singing ‘Dum Dum Diga Diga’ and Lata in full flight on ‘Yeh Sama, Sama Hai Yeh Pyar Ka’. Perhaps best of all, however, are two from Asha Bhosle: ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ and the improbable but incomparable ‘Oh Mr Jolly, Mera Naam Hai Miss Dolly’.
Maria Lord

Quite apart from her own prodigious talent, Natacha Atlas has always been extremely shrewd in her choice of musical partners. Jah Wobble, Nitin Sawhney and Transglobal Underground are but some of them and, on her latest recording, she adds the maverick arranger Harvey Brough to the list. At first listening, Ana Hina seems to represent an abrupt left turn, as there is not a loping drum-loop to be heard and droning synthesizers are replaced by a tastefully arranged string quartet. And, while half of the tracks are Arab classics, many of the arrangements owe more to tango than raqs sharki. Not that any of this should surprise us, for Atlas has always been an unashamed magpie when looking for inspiration.
The influence of Lebanese superstar Fairuz is never far away and three of the songs are by her mentors and composers, the Rahbani Brothers. However, where their orchestrations can drown you in syrupy sweetness, these renditions have a steely restraint. There have been moments in Atlas’ recent albums when she has edged towards the maudlin but here we find a deeper wisdom and even joie-de-vivre in its place. She clearly enjoyed working with a new team of musicians, and most notable amongst these is the singer and guitarist, Clara Sanabras. A darling of the early music fraternity, her contributions are utterly enchanting and the duet on ‘La Vida Callada’ is pure delight. Just as Natacha Atlas’ future looked a little uncertain, she presents us with something alluring, intriguing and extremely witty.
Bill Badley

The press release accompanying this release describes how this half-Algerian, half-French singer-songwriter has ‘the desert winds coursing through her veins’. But this hardly explains how she’s managed to produce such an eclectic and compulsively catchy debut album. Perhaps we need to consider that she grew up with seven brothers and sisters, all listening to different kinds of music, and a mother who sang traditional Algerian folk songs. Her first loves included Brel, Celia Cruz, Billie Holiday, and dub-reggae, but with her family listening to everything from disco to heavy rock she couldn’t have had a more comprehensive introduction to all the joys and pains of Western popular music than if she’d been born in a record shop.
Like all gifted musicians, Soha has assimilated a diverse rainbow of influences but come out the other side sounding wholly original. Thus ‘Dream Club’ seems to be both tango and bossa nova at the same time, and ‘Mon Rêve à Moi’ has lyrics that dizzyingly alternate line by line between French and English before the playful Soha suddenly bursts into a ragga-style rap. Camille’s influence seems to creep in a little here and there, but there’s more natural warmth and soul to Soha’s music, so she’s unlikely to prompt the same you-either-love-her-or-you-hate-her audience divide. This delightful, constantly surprising album will surely be among the year’s best.
Howard Male

There have been relatively few fusion projects featuring African and Indian musicians – the Master Musicians Meeting Club album, which featured Ballaké Sissoko and Petroloukas Halkias among others, being one rare example. Three different string players from three different musical traditions – Mamadou Diabaté on kora, Shujaat Khan playing sitar and Lalgudi GJR Krishnan on South Indian-style violin – could be a recipe for disaster. But it isn’t. With excellent accompaniment by Gouri Shankar on tabla and Murali Trichy on ghatam (clay pot), each instrument has its own distinctive sound, and each musician is so firmly grounded that their exploration beyond the tradition is precisely that – truly exploratory.
Each of the main performers is from a famous musical family and they are steeped in the griot music of Mali, and the Hindustani and Karnatic traditions of India respectively. They all contribute to the disc as composers as well as players. The opening track, ‘Nyanafi’ begins with the kora, its lyrical West African tune with glorious embroideries on sitar and violin. Largely meditative in feel, the disc gives each musician thoughtful space in which to exchange and manipulate the musical material. Lalgudi’s contribution, ‘Birds First Flight’, picks up the tempo with characteristic South Indian verve, and we are treated to some technical fireworks. Shujaat Khan’s ‘Himalayan Rain’ is full of filigree fingerwork and he sings along, as he often does. The title of the final track, ‘Sigui Dyarra’, roughly translates as ‘when you settle in a new place and you have a wonderful time’. That’s exactly what it sounds like.
Maria Lord

French singer Camille Dalmais is the most exciting new talent on the continent. A lone voice amid a chorus of chanteuses, as much of a performance artist as a vocalist, Camille pushes boundaries while still managing to write catchy, melodic pop. Quirky, bolshy and gifted – think a more mellifluous Björk – she scooped the French equivalent of the Mercury Music Prize and won a BBC Award for World Music for her last album, Le Fil (The Thread). It was largely sung in French, albeit a French supplemented by idiosyncratic groans, whoops, screeches and other aural agitations.
A sold-out UK tour proved Camille an adventurous, self-aware and witty live performer, using her alternately sweet and sour voice as an instrument. This third studio album is the flower of over 200 shows, a confident and joyful record sung almost entirely in English, laying bare Camille’s quite visionary musicality. With co-producer MaJiKer (a ‘body-piano-machine’, according to his Myspace page), Camille mixes chanson-style stories with body percussion, minimalist trance techno, singing that swerves from sub-bass to high-pitched and her street-smart humour that occasionally veers on the smug. Brazilian band Barbatuques, beatboxer Sly Johnson and the piano-whacking Jamie Cullum help her craft an album that takes risk after risk yet, remarkably, never fails. From the elastic, operatic ‘Kfir’ and the emotionally extreme ‘Canards Sauvages’ (which features breathy rhythms, watery sound effects, squeaky cuica drums and ecstatic choirs) to the rocking single ‘Gospel with No Lord’, Music Hole is a true work of art by a genuine artist.
Jane Cornwell

For fans of South Indian (Karnatic) music, U Shrinivas is the last word in mandolin playing. But this album – a suite of 11 distinct themes – shows that he is also a first-rate composer and arranger. The glittering line-up of musicians includes George Brooks (saxophone), Dominique Di Piazza (bass), John McLaughlin (guitar), Zakir Hussain (tabla), Vikku Vinayakram (ghatam – a water-pot like drum) and younger brother U Rajesh, alongside several others. All the music on this album is unmistakably drawn from the traditional Indian classical repertoire (both North and South) but is entirely re-orchestrated to create a new listening experience. (One piece, ‘Riversong’, was composed by Nitin Sawhney and has a clear melodic theme in ‘Raga Desh’.) There’s something tremendously intriguing here: paradoxically familiar yet intensely surprising, it provokes a sense of déjà vu. Some starkly contrasting material, for instance, the rather sedate ‘Sindhu’, inspired by ‘Raga Bhairavi’, and the overt blues and Latin jazz veneer of ‘Wildfires’. The biggest twist of all is saved for last: the final track, ‘Sarvaani’ is an alap in the haunting ‘Raga Hamsadhwani’, a style which would, in the normal scheme of things, have formed an introduction, not a conclusion, to an album. But hearing it this way is a deliciously surreal experience, and it puts you in a dreamlike state from which you’re reluctant to return. That alone might explain the album’s addictive quality. As the blurb on the back of the CD aptly puts it, this is music that ‘takes us to places where we begin to know ourselves again.’
Jameela Siddiqi

The bewitching Deus et Diabolus (God and the Devil) threads together the voices of three women: Mara Aranda, from Valencia’s L’Ham de Foc; Sigrid Hausen, from Munich’s medieval music group Estampie; and Iman al Kandoussi. They are accompanied by a lively ensemble of flutes, qanun, ud, saz, rabab, fiddle, nyckelharpa, hurdy-gurdy, pandera tambourines and percussion. It’s an inspiring encounter between the talented musicians of L’Ham de Foc and Estampie recorded in the old Cartuja Monastery, Cazalla de la Sierra, Seville. This is sprightly music, fusing Mediterranean, Oriental and medieval moods. The ethos underpinning their reinterpretations of Arab, Jewish and Christian cantigas to the Virgin Mary, their reimaginings of sensual dances and Arabic songs, is expressed by a line from poet Ibn al-Arabi, ‘Wherever the caravan may bend its steps/Love is my religion’.
While each exquisite piece speaks for itself, they flow together like a song cycle embedded in a utopian view of the past as one of dialogue and peaceful co-existence between religious cultures. The 13th-century ‘Cantiga de Santa María’ is just one breathtaking moment, transporting in the way the timbres and textures of voices and instruments interweave. The arrangements for each of the 12 songs are stunningly varied, each ‘voice’ jewel like, distinctly within the fabric of pieces.
Frustratingly, the attractive booklet (in German, Spanish and English) offering general background and interspersing songs texts in Arabic and old Spanish, with seductive photos of the three women and Seville’s Arabic Baths, fails to include the vivid ‘story’ detail that would help reference the individual songs that capture attention. Still, it’s a brilliant disc nonetheless.
Jan Fairley

How’s this for an opening? A plinky jazz piano, the sudden climactic rush of a bandoneón, and then a deep, breathy female voice in your ear intoning ‘Buenos Aires necrofílica y vital’. This daring album breaks quite a few rules, not least because Fleurs Noires are a ten-piece all-female orchestra. The hook, if you will, is that tango is usually a masculine affair – men lead the dance, bandleaders have always been men, the song lyrics are often about male emotions responding to mothers, lovers and whores. These sisters, then, are reinventing the genre, making it their own. It is an exciting project, and a successful one. The women, all of either Argentinian or French origin, are classically trained, and it shows: the strings, in particular, are big and muscular. They also have a fondness for modern jazz and there are some wonderful Stravinsky-esque set-pieces bang in the middle of tango songs. Material has been sourced carefully – Edgardo Acuña, Victor Parma and Julian Plaza are great composers – and it is varied enough to allow all the soloists to have their spotlight moment. Pianist Andrea Marsili wrote a couple of the songs, and she gives herself a demanding role on them. The three bandoneóns are always in harmony, either powering a song along rhythmically, or creating a ‘collapsing lung’ at the centre of an otherwise solid arrangement. Only a few songs feature a singer and the hired chanteuse, Débora Russ, may seem histrionic. But I suspect her diva shtick is intended to be half-ironic – I think even the clichés here are knowing and purposely overwrought. If you don’t buy any other new tango this year, buy this: it is radical, looks death in the eye and is viscerally sexy.
Chris Moss

How they must hate the T word. If it wasn’t for Tinariwen, Etran Finatawa would surely rank as major stars of the desert blues. It’s true that they don’t have quite the power, confidence or exhilaration of Tinariwen at their best, although there are moments when their rolling, stuttering Touareg guitar styles sounds remarkably similar. But this is an impressive band who are well worth checking out, and their latest album seems to get better every time it’s played. Unlike Tinariwen, they don’t come from northern Mali but from across the border in Niger, and along with the Touareg players, the musicians here also include members who belong to a different group of Saharan nomads, the Wodaabe.
There are sections here where their electric guitar blues inevitably echoes Tinariwen, but there are other songs where they explore very different styles. There are times when lead singer and guitarist Ghalitane Khamidoune kicks off a song with harsh-edged wailing solo vocal work, and then makes use of acoustic guitar along with hand drums and calabash percussion, and the result is like an African answer to a stirring field recording of the early Mississippi blues. There are some great songs here, too. ‘Asistan’ mixes light acoustic guitar work with chanting and percussion work, and is one of the best, sturdiest melodies on the album. The lyrics are also worth investigating, dealing as they do with the threats to the desert community and their remarkable culture.
Robin Denselow