Concert Review: Bassekou Kouyate and Ngoni Ba at UPH 2/16/24

When Bassekou Kouyate asked “Are you happy?” at Universal Preservation Hall Friday, he knew the answer.

Everybody was, both in the audience and onstage. The intricate, uplifting African-bluesy music Malian griot Kouyate made with his quintet amazed and charmed the audience; a mid-winter throng that arrived all bundled-up then listened, attentive but not dancing as in past shows here when Kouyate led bigger bands.

Kouyate launched his seamless 80-minute show himself, silvery staccato notes from his ngoni ringing through the room. This set a meditative mood and announced the show would be centered on the zippy treble fire of his traditional west African instrument, a wood-framed oval skin-covered body, a wooden neck stretching four steel strings. A groove formed behind him, firm, unhurried. Then his singer-wife Amy (Amanita) Sacko took over the tune, the mid-tempo “Le Kanoughnon,” regal in gold-decorated white gown and soaring voice to match. As she swooped and crooned, Kouyate (hereafter just Bassekou), his bass-ngoni playing son Mamadou and percussionist son Moctar leaned left then right in steps together. Mahamadou Tounkara sat to anchor the rhythm with fists and fingers on a calabash, a giant gourd.

“Abe Sumaya” flowed at a similar mellow tempo until its groove erupted in an abrupt bridge then settled into a steady rhythmic bed under Bassekou’s solo. A modernist wah-wah pedal sustained notes, then a rhythmically potent passage built on a single note but shifting beats. Here – in fact, everywhere – Sacko’s voice held its own.

Early on, Mahamadou’s calabash notes hit in time with Mamadou’s sparse bass lines, fists smacking low notes, fingers etching higher pitches. Both loosened up over time, bass lines growing more complex and calabash keeping pace. Alongside Mahamdou, Moctar made percussive scratch sounds, dropping a bead-encased gourd or can then catching it with on-the-beat precision. Strapping a small djembe (adjustable pitch drum) under his arm later in the set, he made melodies by squeezing its sides with his upper arm, hitting with small bent stick and fingers. Bassekou played his ngoni (actually three, in different tunings) with guitar-like finger-picking technique, like Richard Thompson’s. Pinkie anchored to the body below the strings, he strummed down with his thumb and picked upward with ring, insult and pointing fingers, or flailed downward with his nails.

Despite the antique looks of their instruments, the music seemed both deeply rooted and modernist at times. In “Jamako,” everyone cycled a riff into a taut groove like a funk tune. In one of few song intros, Bassekou explained “Ngoni Fola” was a solo devised to please and express himself. He then wove a 17-minute suite that sprang from an uptempo scramble into episodes that generously showcased his band-mates’ skills, like a jazz combo, in one of the show’s instrumental highlights. When Moctar stepped forward for djembe fireworks, he engaged everybody in clap-along support while he crazy-leg danced in place.

Singer Sacko left the stage for “Poye 2” which Bassekou introduced as an African blues. Noting Taj Mahal had played on the recording, he several times jokingly imitated Taj’s distinctive vocal growl. He mainly he played fiery runs, building and releasing tension with repeats and variations, bending notes and whole phrases with a slide and closing with a dramatic one-note solo where rhythm ruled.

Sacko returned thereafter for two medley-like flows, bluesy and built on surging grooves. “Wele Cuba” recalled “Koulibaly” by fellow Malians Amadou et Mariam, but slowed to a mellow flow. In “Miri,” Sacko’s voice seemed to stretch to fill the sky, and she carried the chant of “Nyame” with the same power.

Audience-wise, Friday’s show felt different from his past warmer-weather shows when dance-madness broke out in exuberant throngs rising from their seats to surge, smiling, into any open space. This was a listening crowd, not a dancing one.

At times the songs’ meanings communicated effectively through nuances in singing and playing. Others could have used spoken introductions to supply context; although the same helpful fan who’d translated for Ablaye Cissoko and Cyrille Brotto in their October Proctors Passport GE Theatre show jumped up to help – a sweet, warm moment.

The Songs

• Le Kanougnon
• Abe Sumaya
• Jamako
• Ngoni Foia
• Poye 2
• Kanto Kelena > Wele Cuba
• Miri > Nyame