The story of Bamako*Chicago Sound System (Aug. 23, FPE Records) begins in 2014: flutist-composer Nicole Mitchell and kora player Ballaké Sissoko are both in Paris for an artist residency at the Royaumont abbey, which ignites a creative spark. Fast forward to 2017, where Mitchell and Sissoko are in Chicago laying down their ideas at Strobe Recording Studio. They are joined by Chicagoans Mankwe Ndosi (vocals) and Joshua Abrams (bass); Malian musicians Fatim Kouyaté (vocals) and Fassery Diabaté (balafon); and JoVia Armstrong (percussion) and Jeff Parker (guitar). And while Mitchell and Sissoko’s names now appear on the cover as bandleaders, the album is clearly a group effort – everyone’s contribution is essential to the whole.
In name, the album was inspired by Mitchell’s conversations with the late cultural critic Greg Tate and the places Mitchell and Sissoko call home – Chicago, the “capital” of the American Midwest, and Bamako, the capital of Mali. In practice, it’s a showcase of creating in friendship, mutual respect, and historical awareness. American and African musics – popular musics in particular – have developed because of a continuum of movement (voluntary and involuntary) between musicians from West Africa, the Caribbean, South America, North America, the Mediterranean, and Europe; Bamako*Chicago Sound System is a microcosm of this rich tradition.
In many, if not all African and Black cultures, music is a method of preservation, communication, and theorization. Musicians, in turn, are living archives. It is a responsibility everyone on this album embraces; and one that Sissoko and Kouyaté were born into as members of the djeli caste. Djeli, sometimes known by the more popular term griot, are professional musicians and oral historians whose techniques, repertoire, and knowledge are passed down generationally in family groups. Sissoko is a master kora player like his father, and this West African string instrument has been used to accompany djeli in performances for centuries.
In the opening track, “Bamako Chicago,” Kouyaté’s lyrics reference Sissoko’s father (“Djelimady dein Ballake ballo ley bai” – “The son of Djelimady, Ballake is living there”) and Sinankounya, a Manding tradition that settles conflicts through games and jokes. When Kouyaté and Ndosi sing together, their voices are deftly balanced: Kouyaté makes the lightness of her high voice sound deceptively easy, and Ndosi is stunningly flexible with her lower, earthier timbre, bringing her jazz vocal skills to the fore. Diabaté’s balafon is positively magical; the gourd-resonated xylophone lends an evanescence that transports the listener without compromising a sense of stability.
“Spicy Jambalaya” is notably the only instrumental track, though Ndosi and Kouyaté’s wordless vocalizations do appear. Mitchell improvises over a thematic ostinato on Parker’s electric guitar, and percussion slowly joins the texture as Mitchell develops the melody before giving the floor to Sissoko. The kora’s warmth, clarity, and rhapsodic quality are evident, though Sissoko just as quickly cedes the spotlight, making way for sweeping solos from Parker and Diabaté.
Nicole Mitchell and Ballaké Sissoko — Courtesy of Matt Pakulski
“This Moment” is the longest track – nearly 15 minutes – and has the most infectious opening melody. It’s a beautiful union of funkiness and self-awareness that supports Ndosi when she enters with the first verse. Kouyaté and Mitchell collaboratively wrote the lyrics for this song, which moves the listener between English and Manding as they evoke pastoral moments and reference the conservation work being enacted through this project: “In the movement of our hands and the songs from our mouths / We meet through seeds of ancient memory / We know, for countless years, the stories of our lives / Traced connections / But did not touch / Until the gift of this moment.”
The album is an inspired example of cross-cultural collaboration, but the one missed opportunity is an absence of clarity regarding the use of African languages. It is horribly common for American audiences to lack nuanced knowledge about African languages, culture, and history. Writing this review reminded me of my own knowledge limits when it comes to African, let alone Malian, music. For example, Bambara is one of the more common Indigenous languages in Mali; its distinction from Manding is akin to the difference between US and UK English, and the album materials sadly offer no guidance as to which languages are being used on any given track. Mentioning the specific African language(s) in the liner notes would have enhanced the musical diversity and knowledge that undergirds this already excellent album.
Nevertheless, Bamako*Chicago Sound System is a work of superb musicianship and collaboration. These artists look to the future with the past held lovingly in their arms. Theirs is an ideal model: artistically, ideologically, and emotionally.
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