Seya (CD - 2009)

Personnel: Oumou Sangare (vocals, percussion); Hervé Samb, Tony Remy (guitar); Habib "Dia" Sangaré (bolon); Anthony Leung, Christophe Raymond (violin); Malik Mezzadri (flute); Pee Wee Ellis (saxophone); Fred Wesley (trombone); Tony Allen , Will Calhoun (drums); Miguel Fernández (congas); Amada Diarra, Sekouba Diabate (djembe); Massambou Wele Diallo (maracas).

Audio Mixer: Jerry Boys.

Recording information: Livingston Studios, London, England; Studio Bogolan, Bamako, Mali; Studio Davout, Paris, France.

Photographers: Ed Alcock; Joakim Karlsson.

Arrangers: Massambou Wele Diallo; Oumou Sangare; Cheick Tidiane Seck.

If she sang in English, Oumou Sangare would likely be mentioned in the same breath as artists such as Nina Simone and Billie Holiday, vocalists who not only fashioned a unique manner of putting across a song but directly and poignantly addressed the lives and struggles of women in their music. Sangare, arguably Mali's greatest female vocalist, writes all of her own material, and SEYA features some of her strongest. From the opening track, the hypnotically beat-crazy "Sounsoumba," it becomes apparent that Sangare--two decades after her debut, MOUSSOLOU--matured into a master of dynamics and emotion. Delivering her words forcefully, riding the rhythm, she suddenly turns up the heat three-quarters of the way in, goaded by a jazzy flute that explores the nuances of the melody. Courtesy of the translation in the booklet, we learn that Sangare is making the case here for harmonious living among the sexes--while simultaneously imploring the listener to get up and dance. The pattern continues, each new tune forging its own identity while reiterating the singer's pleas for unity and understanding and a better life for all. "Wele Wele Wintou," which utilizes both Western instrumentation and native African instruments like the n'goni to create its ambience, may seem jubilant and danceable on the surface, but beneath lies an urgent call against the forced marriages so common in Sangare's culture. And the seductively cool, relatively minimalist "Mogo Kele" forgoes most percussion and relies on the local sounds of the balafon, calabash and again the n'goni to provide a tranquil base over which Sangare relates her advice to make the most of one's time in this world. And, even if one hasn't followed the English translations to understand what Sangare sings, it always feels important. minimize