Savane

ALI FARKA TOURE

World Circuit/Nonesuch

Everything from tomes to sonnets has been written about the connection between Africa and the blues, but no African artist sounds more explicitly bluesy than Malian singer/guitarist Ali Farka Toure, who died of cancer on March 7 at age 66. Savane, his final album, is probably the most effective synthesis of his native West African music and blues, and arguably his best recording ever. It's important to note, though, that Toure's "desert blues" is not the byproduct of a conscious fusion; rather, the artist mined the natural kinship between the music of his homeland and its younger American cousin.

In terms of direct comparison, Toure's music is most reminiscent of the drone blues of the north Mississippi hill country. That music does not rely on 12-bar chord changes, but instead employs hypnotically repeated guitar riffs and vocal phrases. Savane is similar in this regard — it's a mesmerizing sound, but a denser brew, thanks to a thicket of intertwined instruments: Toure's primary sidekicks are Malian ngoni (four-string African lute) players, as many as three at a time. Their tightly wound, staccato lines wrap a percussive backdrop around Toure's seductive electric guitar licks and chords; his tone is a marvel — about equal parts ring and sting. On a handful of cuts, the ensemble is joined by James Brown alum Pee Wee Ellis on tenor sax and the blues harmonica of Little George Sueref.

As a singer, Toure growls and wails, blues-like, in these songs about Mali's agrarian life, Saharan climate and rich culture of spirits and myth, often backed by small vocal ensembles that respond to his passionate calls. While he sings in a number of West African dialects, the emotional power of the songs is palpable (and as an aid, the liner notes include translated lyrics and a backstory for each track).

The only complaint I can muster about Savane is that, perhaps due to its reliance on loping, mid-tempo rhythms, it can at times become a bit too lugubrious. In all, though, listening to this disc is an exhilarating cross-cultural experience that's both exotic and somehow familiar. 4 stars

Eric Snider

Tower of Love

JIM NOIR

Barsuk

This reclusive lad from Manchester, England, has crafted a charming slice of sugary pop that manages a gentle subversiveness. Shades of the Beatles, Beach Boys, Simon & Garfunkel, Burt Bacharach, Nick Drake and other touchstones crop up in Noir's blend of dreamy melody and heady bubblegum, all brightened by shafts of luminescent harmonies. He wrote and performed all the parts, and the production possesses a certain sly cheesiness that stops short of lo-fi. 3 stars

Kick Up The Dust

BLOOD MERIDIAN

'The promo blurb name-checks Nick Cave and Neil Young. But Black Halos bassist Matt Camirand's new project sounds more like a stoned Nuggets-era garage band, one too hung over to turn up, or do more than fuck around with plodding, redundant blues and country chord progressions. Camirand tries to get by on world-weary attitude, and occasionally the music helps him out. Mostly, however, Kick Up The Dust isn't coolly depressed, it's just boring. 2 stars

Scott Harrell

The Cairo Gang

THE CAIRO GANG

Narnack

Primarily a vehicle for Chicago-based singer/songwriter Emmett Kelly, The Cairo Gang specializes in winsome acoustic rock with unusual flourishes. Like the melody that sounds like it's being played by a bunch of broken recorders on "Safe and Sound." Or those squiggles that sound like they're being played backwards on "A Hammer for the Temple." Details make this a certified headphone album. Kelly has performed with several other artists — Beth Orton among them — and he clearly has an abundance of musical talent, but the writing here just can't keep up with the sonics. And for a record with such a quiet and intimate early-morning vibe, that defect nags a little bit more than it otherwise would. 3 stars

Cooper Levey-baker

This article appears in Aug 9-15, 2006.