K7-20: Tata Diakite

(image from here)

Well, it's quite clear that the relatively simple process of posting has taken a far back-row seat recently, for which I apologize. Work is consuming and drawing even more so, and the thought of coming up with posting material has become daunting.

For those of you uninterested in blog content unrelated to cassettes, allow me to direct you to the last few sentences of the previous post for the Aichata Sidibe cassette. It's a good one, and being buried deep down in the text I can understand why the resulting download number would be quite low in comparison to previous posts. However, forgive my assumption if it is the case that you do indeed hold some bizarre distaste for Aichata, and the low download number is a glaring indication of that. In any case you've overlooked a solid tape.

Tonight I offer another of my favorites: Tata Diakite's Album de Laban. Looking at her information on mali-music I don't see this tape listed in the discography, so I wonder if it's not a local selection. Depending on context the word laban can signify the end of something--a life--or it can mean the last in a series--a final cassette. My first inclination favors the former, that this is an album in celebration of Tata after her death. However I don't think it's the same as the listed Album du Souvenir because of the difference in track quantities and titles, yet I've never heard that tape and it's quite possible that this copy is missing some tracks. (Bengaly was usually pretty good about having the originals). I don't guess that this could possibly be a final cassette in her career because it sounds earlier than Djama (to be posted later) which was made in 2002 and is laden with synthesizers and keyboards and drum machines (although very effectively). In contrast, this mystery tape sounds more organic-- less electricity involved-- and that can sometimes be a good indication that it is an earlier tape (not always).

Any way you slice it, it's a damn good tape. Enjoy!

A recent drawing.


Check out the Second Line Social site before it's gone. Recently retired, the archives will be taken down at an unspecified date.

ARt!

For no particular reason I can come up with, I haven't spent much time coloring greyscale (or French greyscale) like I mentioned a few posts back. But I have spent most of the past month working on ink. I bought a jar of ink and a quill style pen to try to learn from people like R. Crumb and Rand Holmes*, but then to use their lines for my own art.





A few weeks ago I was telling my co-worker that I was in the beginning of a drawing phase, and he automatically shot back by telling me how terrible he is at drawing. And as the days went on I realized how many people say the exact same thing in the same automated response. I found out that for whatever reason-- time, new responsibilities, new interests-- most people haven't sat down to draw since childhood, beyond occasional doodles on the edges of paper or envelopes. They have, however, seen quite a bit of art and established an idea of what looks like good art or bad art. So however rarely they do sit down to draw, anything produced is crumpled into a trash bin; it doesn't look like what they think good, or even decent art should look like.

My hypothesis is that anyone can be a good artist as long as they: draw in whatever style comes out of their hand (left or right), and see their picture as it is on the paper-- not in terms of what they already think their picture should look like, but in their inherent style used to convey the subject. Then their judgement of the quality of the work should be based on how well they were able to convey the idea within their own style. Essentially, how well can you act like yourself? Did you draw that triangle nose like you think a triangle nose should look like? Or does it look like shit because that's just not how people do 'em.

So it's no wonder people automatically doubt their own talent, when they have the weight of a thousand artists' names swirling in their heads and then whatever gurgles out of their pen doesn't fit into any of their forms. In the same way, I used to limit myself to which subjects I'd draw because "so-and-so artist wouldn't draw that". And by looking at a lot of R. Crumb, Rand Holmes, and Heinrich Kley recently, I've realized how diverse each of their subject matters are within themselves. So I figured the best way for me to get better is to put pen to paper and see what comes out (left hand) without worrying about content. No matter how absurd, serious, or strange it all goes.

This past month has been a success in my book. I like the tension drawing straight ink on paper-- no erasing. I have the benefit of having grown up drawing next to my brother (and if you're reading this you should draw more) so I was able to work out a lot of issues when I was young. But even still, sometimes drawings just turn out like crap and there's not much that can be done. Try again later.




And for your blues fans out there...



...that was my attempt at Rand Holmes' style with a R. Crumb butt.

Surprise! Here's Aichata Sidibe. I like this tape because I can hear kamelengoni songs I know how to play (with arrangements on top).

*there aren't a lot of examples of Rand Holmes on the internet that I could find, but you should check him out at a bookstore.

Alpine climbing!

Caution (I jan to o la! (in bambara)): No music this time.

I had a free weekend away from my flies, so I took to the mountains. Washington's North Cascades are a great alpine playground; tons of (melting) glaciers, fairly solid rock (depending where you are), and tortuous approach hikes that'll put hair on anyone's chest. Since devoting my last two years to research I haven't been out climbing as much as I used to/want to.

Objective: East Ridge of Eldorado (below). A really moderate snow climb from the bottom right up to the left. The approach is actually harder than the climb-- roughly 5000 ft up, straight out of the car, battling through thick trees and endless boulder fields, and then trudging across the glacier in the boiling sun. I camped just off to the right at the base of the rock ridge.


And here is my lovely pad for the night, a cozy nook between some boulders. Surprisingly warm, protected from the wind. And melt-water was running not too far away-- always a plus.


A well deserved dinner: pasta veggies, wine, and hot mango drink! All that's missing are some candles and a date.


I climbed Forbidden peak a few years ago (below), and had a nice view of it from camp.


I don't know why I fool myself, I can't ever get away from fruit flies; I brought along some light reading. This paper (below) describes photo-activating a modified protein by using a laser, in order to activate the modified protein whenever desired. If the protein isn't hit with the laser it's "off". So they blast a group of cells in the fruit fly egg with light and induce its function, which happens to be involved in group cell migration, and study various conditions to suss out the developmental regulation of the specific migration of those cells. Pretty cool.


Settling in after some wine and bedtime reading. It got cold with the wind, but I stayed pretty warm between the rocks in my sleeping bag.


Just after sunrise.


The moderate East Ridge of Eldorado. I didn't take the traditional alpine start to the day (4am) because I knew it didn't get cold enough to completely freeze the snow overnight (none of my water froze), which would make for easier travelling. The climb itself was easy, the exciting part is just up over the sky-line...


...where you traverse this knife ridge. In reality it's probably a solid two feet across, a little smaller than a sidewalk, which everyone can easily walk across. The exciting part is how steeply and immediately it drops off hundreds of feet back down to the glacier on either side, and the whipping wind-- it's fun.


A nice view from the top. This might be Dorado Needle, but I'm not sure. It doesn't really look like a needle.


Peanut butter sandwiches are a staple, although if I eat another one I might vomit. There can be too much of a good thing and I reached my limit on the summit.


On my way down I passed three old-timers slogging up the snow, which was getting progressively softer and mushier as the sun cooked it, making for slow, sometimes painful climbing (why an alpine start, if cold enough, is better).


After climbing, packing up and decending a total of ~6000 feet, I finally made it back to the car to be attacked by big, biting, black-flies. I walked back to the river to jump in and rinse off but just one step in reminded me why I don't like swimming in glacial rivers-- they're too damn cold.

K7-18: Bintou Sidibe

In place of an image of the Bintou cassette, which I don't have, is a picture my friend drew in one of my notebooks that I rediscovered the other day. Thanks Nicole!

Voici another wassoulou treasure. My brief searches for information on Bintou Sidibe were rather fruitless (although this was cool). Bintou is of the old school of wassoulou women, among Coumba Sidibe, Kagbe Sidibe, and early Oumou Sangare. One brief conversation with friends in Yanfolila at the time, recounted a story where Bintou and Oumou recorded their cassettes at roughly the same time in the late 80's, and essentially raced to get them on the market. As I was told, Oumou's cassette got there first and blew up (perhaps for obvious reasons when you listen to both side by side), while Bintou remained locally famous, but not internationally so.

I don't have a version of Oumou's "Moussolou" cassette up to download, nor have I come across one in the vast internet ocean. And the quality of the youtube links that follow aren't great. Nevertheless...listen to the similarities between Bintou's track Nene and Oumou's Diaraby Nene. And then listen to the nearly identical opening to Bintou's Neye Dounanye and Oumou's Djama Kaissoumou. It wouldn't surprise me if they had a lot of overlap between studio musicians which may have fed-back between the artists.

Oumou's versions, and her cassette overall, seem tailored to a broader audience, more tightly arranged, quicker and less exploratory. Bintou's on the other hand are long-form and embody the impovisational prowess for which local Mande music is known. (That might be a question Ngoniba can answer(?))

In general I think I prefer the long-form and extended instrumental parts in Bintou's tape. The relaxed tempo of all the music is quite pretty and the small ensemble allows the intricate and rhythmic playing of each instrument to blend very well; nothing is muddled (wait for Vol. 2, full of synthesizers and drum machine). Oumou's production incorporates modern drums (mostly just a hi-hat), a violin instead of soku, and pop arrangements. Diaraby Nene might be one of my all-time favorite wassoulou songs out there (especially the remastered 2003 version where you can clearly hear the kamelen'goni).

Enjoy!

*update* here is Bintou's cassette cover

K7-17: Doussou Bagayoko

My apologies for the absence. I've been concentrating on other things recently and lost track of time.

I realize that I introduce tapes as being another of my favorites quite often, and now's no time to quit. This is another one of my favorites. Doussou Bagayoko is the daughter of Nahawa Doumbia and NGou Bagayoko. Dayele was huge in Bamako and Yanfolila, blaring from push-carts loaded with tapes and speakers, blaring from store fronts and phone booths and taxis. My friend Vieux, who ran a phone booth next to Papa's mechanic shop (pictured below) played Dayele and Black So Man's cassette over and again every day.

At that time Papa's garage was located on the main market road off the (now) paved highway in Yanfolila. Passers-by seeking shade, others needing to make a phone call, or even more waiting for their scooter to be fixed next door sit down and chat, perhaps share tea then move on. Roaring above the already maxed-out stereo is the constant revving of old scooter engines, mufflers completely blown and the motor screeching, spewing thick black smoke into the face of mechanic as he deciphers the problem. Oil pools and eventually seeps through the dirt.

The production and instrumentation on the tape are quite good, but I don't know who the musicians are. Anyone out there? And the harmonizing vocals are strong. No single song is leagues above the others, and the whole cassette is solid. I'm pretty sure that this tape, along with the "second half" are available on line as one set, while they were available as two separate cassettes in Bamako, Dayele and Koungo Sogo (to be posted later).

Enjoy!


(Papa Sidibe is on the right. He and his family have welcomed me on more than one occasion and their kindness is endless.)

K7-16: Satta Kouyate

While this picture is not the cover to Satta Kouyate's cassette, Guéléya is one of the songs. The tape (Dakan) is another absolutely solid one. Satta has a dynamic voice, strong on top of the full music. It's easy to become accustomed to thin voices on some newer wassoulou music, so I enjoy the beauty of Satta's powerful vocals; it reminds me of Kagbe Sidibe.

Nieba was her first cassette, and I'm fairly certain Dakan is the second. I read a rather grim interview with Satta and she mentions singing Guéléya, but not whether it was the hit song or the title of the album. My tape's jacket was labeled Dakan. Anyway, the interview was overall, as I said, grim. Satta is quite troubled by her talent. I won't go into any of the gory details, but the interview doesn't end on a bright note -- tread with caution. Perhaps you can detect her sorrow in the music.

UPDATE (6/10/10): Satta Kouyate at a party of some sort, from Ngoniba's seemingly endless stock of ORTM videos.

K7-15: Lamissa Bengaly

Lamissa Bengaly was instrumental in promoting Senoufo culture and balafon music around Mali and beyond.  And with that reputation behind him, I would have guessed that Lamissa was an artful and skilled player, however the cassette jacket suggests he may have used it only as a vehicle from which to address his audience, his true art. Then, left in his wake was the instrument, ready for attention.

I don't know many details about his life or how vast was his influence, only that he's from the Sikasso region and is remembered next to Bazoumana Sissoko, Tara Bouare, and Toumani Kone, among others no-less important as major influences. He even has a performance hall named after him where balafon competitions are hammered out, and Nebe Solo, a new balafon musician, paid homage to Lamissa by way of song.

The sticker in the middle of the cassette jacket and the number code printed inside it tell me that the cover is indeed original, but I'm rather skeptical of the cassette itself, no matter what the stamp says. Bear with me...

Five tracks are listed on the cassette jacket, while twelve individual tracks are actually on the tape (five on Face A and seven on Face B). After painstakingly comparing like-tracks side-by-side, down to syllables, I determined that Face A contains the whole tape and Face B repeats the three tracks listed, and at the same time presented Behantane and Meilleur Voux spliced together to make a deceptive new track; don't be fooled though. Therefore I included only those tracks from Face A that I judged to comprise the complete cassette. I don't speak Senoufo (and can't precisely say if Lamissa is occasionally singing in Bamana or not), but the only song I could hear him actually say the name of the title was in Fadja Joghou. It was in this manner, using Fadja Joghou as the landmark, that I titled the tracks.

It sounds like Lamissa is accompanied by one other vocalist who, in between Lamissa's extended phrases, sings cycling choruses. The voices sound similar, though it sounds as if the obviously featured voice (Lamissa) cuts off the other whenever he's ready to speak his mind. Each lyrical phrase and transition between the two is introduced by an accented first syllable.

Notice the vocal styling in the final thirty seconds of Meillure Voux (before it unfortunately fades out) and compare it with the old man who finally demands his turn to speak in the movie Bamako, by Abderrahmane Sissako. If you haven't watched it you may enjoy it; a half-fictional film about many relavent topics, including the strategies and effects of the World Bank and IMF in regards to African nations, unfolded as testimony from villagers and city-dwellers in court. Anyway, the old-timer might be Senoufo.

Enjoy!

**If you're losing sleep at night because I didn't provide the full cassette, just listen to each track a few times in a row and it'll give the same effect while reducing redundancy. (Except for Vavouughou and Fadja Joghou, which play once each on the full tape).**