Top of the World

South African skiffle from the 60s and 70s

This is an album of 'township sounds from the golden era of mbaqanga' - reminder of the rousing dance music that emerged in Soweto and the townships of South Africa back in the 1960s and 70s, during the apartheid era. Like much South African music, mbaqanga was a fusion, a mixture of the country' s great tradition for vocal harmony styles with the saxophone jive style that took over from the penny-whistle craze. Mbaqanga started off as a simple style - the term means ‚'dumpling' in Zulu. But this was a new urban music that swept the country: it used electric guitars and bass, and its cheerful rolling melodies and vocal work reflected the ska craze over in the Caribbean.
The greatest mbaqanga stars were Mahlathini and the Mahotella Queens, who were celebrities not only in South Africa but also in the West. They were special both because of Simon 'Mahlathini' Nkabinde' s dramatic stage act, which brought him the nickname of 'the bull' , and because of his extraordinary, deep, groaning bass voice, which had worried his parents so much when he was growing up that they suspected witchcraft. He was complemented by the fine, tight harmony singing of the Queens (who also enjoyed a career on their own) and by a sturdy amplified guitar band. They are of course included here, along with an intriguing selection of lesser-known performers with their own individual take on the music. There's a driving, simple but tuneful track from the Lucky Strike Sisters, a gently sturdy instrumental from Reggie Msomi and his Hollywood Jazz Band, and a raw but rousing mixture of simple instrumental work and fine unaccompanied harmony singing from Amaqawe Omculu. A great set.

Robin Denselow

BB return with a new skip in their step

The debut album of this New York-based trio was one of the most innovative releases of 2005 (even if it did beg the question why such a genre-defying outfit would want to lumber themselves with such a confining name). But then 2007's rather lacklustre Nu Med (reviewed in #44) found them treading water, seemingly at a loss as to which direction to go in next. So it is something of a relief to be able to report that not only are they back on track, but also that Blue Eyed Black Boy is tougher, bigger and more cohesive than either of these earlier efforts.
The dominant new flavours, replacing the emphasis on Balkan brass and quirky but essential four-to-the-floor beats, are Jamaican ragga and Timbaland-style R&B. And due to the fact that we' ve recently been inundated with laboured dance floor reworkings of the Balkan sound, the timing for the change of style couldn' t be better. The opener 'Move It' sets the template with a solid, funky groove that shows the three-piece team of Tamir Muskat, Ori Kaplan and Tomer Yosef at their most direct and organic. Gone is any sense of an inescapably studio-bound project juxtaposing meticulously programmed beats and exotic samples. In its place is music that has real momentum and dynamics. Perhaps this confident and bold reinvention is a result of the band having spent the last two years extensively touring and testing material before a live crowd. But whatever the catalyst, it should gain them a whole new raft of fans.

Howard Male

Cuban ex-pats prove there's no place like home

When Asere started out, they were young turks from the margins of Havana, part of a scene that peaked with the funky timba music of the 1990s. Then, Cuba found that a lot of its younger artists were leaving the country, taking their dreams and abundant creativity with them. Asere is a street cred Afro-Cuban greeting and by adopting it as their name, Asere were embodying the youthful energy that Cuban cultural life has so often not known how to channel. So it's interesting that this album intersperses their own original songs with classic pieces of Latin salsa and Cuban son, reworking them in the process of making their own irresistible music. It's a two-pronged tribute: to their Havana neighbourhoods (and, by implication, all Latin barrios); and to the canon of music that expresses life there, and keeps such neighbourhoods going.
There's a strong narrative here, from Rub'n Blades' 'El Cantante' (The Singer) through Marquetti's sublime 'Oriente' name-checking great sonero singers. The thrilling choral rumba 'Yo Nac En Un Solar' (I Was Born In A Solar) evokes Cuba's old community houses; 'Psicologa' captures poignancy while the sensual 'Harissa' has some lovely Andalusian flamenco-jazz undertones. The slow, emotional build to Henry Fiol's 'Palo Santo' is exemplary, with vocal tones, guitar layers, flashes of trumpet and pattering percussion becoming a total Afro-Cuban prayer. It's a truism that you have to leave home to appreciate what you love and value about it, but that is what is proved on every note and lyric of this quite sensational disc.

Jan Fairley

An Afro-rock take on the Tinariwen lope

The Beatles begot numerous generations of groups and 30 years after they broke up, the likes of Oasis were still under the sway of their ubiquitous influence. So it's rather pleasing to find that Tinariwen are now having a similarly profound impact on Touareg or Tamashek music. Tamikrest is a group of young musicians who were barely into their teens when Tinariwen first forged their singular guitar music. There is much on Tamikrest's debut album that will sound familiar to Tinariwen fans - the loping, camel-gait rhythms, the strange time signatures, the ululating and hypnotic vocals. But this is a new take on the trademark Tinariwen sound. Ousmane Ag Mossa, the frizzy-locked leader of Tamikrest who looks like the kid brother of Tinariwen's Ibrahim, grew up listening to rap, metal and Western pop music. So when he and his seven-strong group met Dirtmusic, a bunch of American indie-rock musicians, in 2008, their music made an easy and natural fit. The result is Adagh and the differences as well as the similarities to the Tinariwen sound are immediately evident on the opening track, 'Outamachek'. The predominant vibe here is African rock rather than desert blues, with the rhythms being more four-square and at times displaying a reggae influence. The guitars, too, sound quite different: smoother, less snaking and probably more accessible to Western ears, recalling bands such as Dire Straits on 'Tidite Tille', Santana on 'Aicha' and the Grateful Dead on 'Amidini'. Some might regret that it' s an easier ride than the raw and earthy blues of Tinariwen. But it' s a captivating sound and one that should guarantee them an audience that extends far beyond the usual world music stockade.

Nigel Williamson

The hardest working piper in showbusiness

One of today's most universally admired folk instrumentalists, the Irish-Mancunian flute, whistle and uilleann pipes maestro Michael McGoldrick has never been one to rush his solo recordings. His first, the traditionally styled Morning Rory, came out in 1996, during the hectic period in which he co-founded both Flook and Lunasa, and also joined the Scottish band Capercaillie, with whom he still plays. Fused followed in 2000, and as its title suggests, it unveiled his now-signature synthesis of Irish, funk, jazz, world and dance music elements, with Wired continuing the cross-fertilisation in 2005. Another half-decade on, and the eagerly-awaited Aurora certainly doesn't disappoint, except perhaps for anyone anticipating a radical departure. There's no shortage of development and progression in evidence but, as is McGoldrick's wont, it's so subtly and organically effected, so fluent and seemingly effortless in execution as to dovetail seamlessly with his oeuvre so far. His nine core cohorts here have also been mainstays of his live band since Fused, and it' s that slow-matured ensemble empathy, anchored by McGoldrick's compellingly muscular, minutely nuanced playing, that lends these dozen tracks their multi-layered depth and variety. Mainly comprised of McGoldrick's original compositions, the album also features a freshly enriched sonic palette, courtesy of such distinguished guests as saxophonist Tommy Smith and harmonica ace Brendan Power. The main man flexes his additional skills on dobro, mandolin, and even on vocals, making his recorded singing debut with a bewitchingly understated version of Dirk Powell's 'Waterbound'.

Sue Wilson

A new-found spirituality and a return to form

Pascal 'Lokua' Kanza has roots in Congo-Kinshasa and Rwanda, two nations afflicted by the greatest contemporary tragedies Africa has known. His limpid voice has conveyed these realities ever since his eponymous debut album of 1993. And never more so than on this, his sixth release, an all-too brief foray for the 52-year-old's multi-textured vocals. After two decades in France, Kanza has set sail for Brazil. Perhaps the added distance helped bring him closer to his acoustic roots, for this is Kanza stripped down to his moving best, a tear-drenched voice backed by sanza (the Central African thumb piano), guitar or washes of piano harmony. Five years after his disappointing all-French album Plus Vivant the artist, now based in Rio, has returned to a winning formula, his tremolo singing reaching a peak on 'Loyenge' while caressing intimate depths on 'Mapendo' and 'Soki'. This is no solo effort, however. Kanza brings in the voice of his compatriot Fally Ipupa, the instrumental talents of Thomas Block and Sylvain Luc on the theremin-like ondes Martenot and guitar respectively, and the powerful harmonica of William Galison. The momentum drops slightly with the title-track' s unlikely mix of country & western melodies and Lingala lyrics - the only fray in an achingly moving tapestry. Nkolo reaches a climax with 'Oh Yahwe' on which Lokua's cousin Rene and evangelist singer Kool Matope join in his vocal fireworks. The album ends rather abruptly, in under three-quarters of an hour: its only real flaw is that following a five-year wait, it's much too short.

Daniel Brown

Nearly three hours of Bollywood royalty

Aptly titled The Playback Queen, this compilation captures four decades of Asha Bhosle's extensive repertoire - up to the 1990s - from the world of Hindi cinema, now popularly known as Bollywood. It demonstrates that Asha, whose career parallels the rise of Indian cinema in the post-war era, was equally at home interpreting lyrical ghazals, folk songs - India's attempts at mimicking cabaret-style swing and elements of rock'n'roll from the West - as she was at songs with a strong classical foundation.
Seductive Asha, the first disc, features many well-known upbeat, toe-tapping, swinging songs influenced by a smorgasbord of styles beyond India. Many are littered with references to melodies and riffs from jazz, Latin and even Far Eastern music. They include the playful 'Eena Meena Deeka' the hippie anthem ‚'Dum Maro Dum;' and the delightfully tuneful 'Chura Liya Hai Tum Ne'. The songs capture the essence of the movie's characters - often the film's bad girls or vamps. Classical Asha, the second CD, is more slow-paced, traditional, and devotional. It uses folksy bhangra rhythms years before they became fashionable: duets and ballads and sounds of sitar. They present a sublimely beautiful voice that is often overlooked by those familiar with the popular side of Asha' s more catchy songs.
Bolstered by extensive liner notes by Jameela Siddiqi, this is pure listening pleasure from undoubtedly one of Indian cinema's greatest playback singers. For a novice, it is a great introduction. For those more familiar with Indian cinema before it became the Bollywood film industry that it is today, it is a trip down memory lane.

Kulbir Natt

ivid dub re-imaginings of English folk

Ian King of England - it has an old-money ring to it - is a Barnsley-born singer and stonewaller. The album' s singular and inspired melding of traditional folk songs with Adrian Sherwood's On-U Sound - ska-like brass, dub textures, soulful backing vocals and echo-laden lead voice - breathes some heavily laden, intoxicating fumes into contemporary English folk. The album opens with a song once interpreted by Shirley Collins and first published as a broadside in 1820. 'Adieu to Old England' could be taken as a statement of intent, a skinny, enticing electric guitar riff weaving its spell from the lonely old melody, before King' s plaintive, dubby vocals kick in against a descending riff from his brass section, the Crispy Horns, amidst fat bass notes, all conspiring with washes of dub to accentuate the song's inexorable sense of being transported away.
King has some top-class accomplices - his producer, Adrian Sherwood, of course, but also Sugarhill Gang guitarist Skip 'Little Axe' McDonald, percussionist Pete Lockett, Living Color bassist Doug Wimbish, and On-U vocalist (and former Arsenal hooligan) Ghetto Priest on backing vocals. King has a clear musical vision that keeps the songs in focus amidst all these elements, though I'm not sure the 1920s-style dance-band croon and trumpet line succeeds on 'The Isle of France'. The strong Caribbean and American soul elements make for a fresh and distinctive new route through traditional English song, like a lanky English dub cousin of Jim Moray's debut.

Tim Cumming

Rodeo-movie soundtrack to carry you away

El Gaucho is the superbly atmospheric soundtrack to Andres Jarach's documentary road movie about Andres Retamal, a taciturn Argentinian horse-trainer and rodeo king. Produced by Gotan Project's Eduardo Makaroff and Christoph Muller, it's the wonderfully cracked, 70%-proof voice of Daniel Melingo that takes the lead. He's also the film's narrator, following Retamal and his young son through the immense landscapes of Patagonia.
For the packaging alone, El Gaucho deserves a hearty 'Ole!' The CD opens up to reveal a 3D pop-up scene (pictured) of Retamal breaking in a horse in an intricately fashioned cardboard corral. Such lavish artwork is a trademark of the Paris-based Manana label. The production values carry over into the music. Makaroff and Muller have fashioned a richly evocative soundtrack that is far removed from the urbane city centres where Gotan usually operate. Instead, it is a rural Argentina, and the country music rhythms of the milonga and zamba that are summoned up via a largely instrumental and skeletal soundscape of bandoneon (squeezebox), guitar, harmonica and piano. This is punctuated by live recordings from the rodeos that Retamal and his boy stop at on their way to the coast, alongside Melingo's serenading of the iconic gaucho on the opening and closing tracks.
It's music that takes you outside the normal run of time, and spirits you away to the pampas, drenched in the atmosphere of the rural and remote. As a soundtrack, it builds a sonic world of its own; your carbon-free, long-distance journey begins here.

Tim Cumming

Still harping on Paraguay

Most of the music here consists of harps and nothing else. Yet this album is a little beauty. Twenty of the 22 songs are polcas: sweet, tremulous and subtle tunes, evoking young romances, country dances, dreams, journeys, birdsong, and the joys and pains of everyday life in an agricultural land. Fans of chamame - best known in Europe thanks to the ambassadorial work of accordion-player Chango Spasiuk - will know that the polka took root in southern South America with immigration from Eastern Europe, especially from Bohemia. But don't imagine any ballroom gentility. The polca paraguaya is a totally original, subtropical genre informed by native rhythms, the Jesuits' missions' liturgical forms, Latin beats such as bossa nova and bolero, and governed overall by the melodic capacities and constraints of the diatonic harp.
The other songs are guaranias, a genre created in the early 20th century and linked to the polca, but tending toward slower, longer phrasing. Its name reminds us that Paraguayan music is, above all, steeped in the native guarani culture, still a force in this small nation. This is not an archival album, so we don't get original recordings by revered Paraguayan harpists of the past. Still, many of the best contemporary harpists from the region (which includes Misiones province in Argentina) are featured, including the veteran Nicolas Caballero. It' s pretty gorgeous. There' s a kind of minimalist zen to la harpa paraguaya, and you can easily lose an evening in a pleasant, far-off trance while dreaming of the sultry sun of Asuncion.

Chris Moss