By Michelle Broder Van Dyke
Like the pitter-patter of raindrops heard above, as they strike the roof, and below, as they fall into puddles outside of the comfortable protection of your apartment, on a typical gray day in San Francisco, Toumani Diabaté’s kora playing on his February release, The Mandé Variations (Nonesuch), creeps and seeps inside, infecting you with its melancholy minor key and uneven intervals while surrounding you with the cozy pleasure of your insulated bedroom and warm flannel sheets.
The kora is a 21-string West African instrument often characterized as what the offspring of a harp and lute might look like. But this depiction dismisses detailing much of the magic and charm of the instrument, which is perhaps beyond description and can be best felt in listening to the mesmerizing stories the instrument tells.
The kora is built from a large calabash, cut in half and covered with cow skin forming a resonator, and it has a notched bridge like a lute. Diabaté uses one thumb to pluck the bassline, while the other plays the core melody, and the two forefingers are for improvisation. The remaining fingers are used to hold the sticks on either side of the strings and to secure the instrument.
Diabaté released his first solo kora album Kaira (Hannibal), recorded in one afternoon in London, when he was 21 in 1988. It generated international awareness and buzz for the instrument. Diabaté has spent the past two decades touring, at home and abroad, and has collaborated with the likes of Taj Mahal and Bjork. During these years, he has developed a seamless style that intertwines bass line, accompaniment, and melody for both traditional as well as modernized kora playing, which Diabaté largely invented himself. Diabaté’s style uses his own “Egyptian tuning” and combines spirited accompaniment with lyrical, gentle melodies.
On his latest album Diabaté uses two koras: the first was given to him by his father and is more than 40 years old, which he uses on the more traditional pieces, and the second is a machine-head kora made in Mali by one of his former students. Traditionally, a kora player is referred to as a Jali, which is conceptually similar to a bard or oral historian. Diabaté springs from 71 generations of kora players in Mali - and claims to be a descendant of the first kora player. This tradition is blended with the modern, telling both old and new stories of Mali, as well as the story of the kora itself, which continues to pass along the stories of its people and land.
"Ali Farka Toure," played on the machine-head kora, is an improvised track with a quavering sound that Diabaté created in the studio as he mourned the death of the song’s namesake. "El Nabiyouna," like "Ali Farka Toure," is another abstract, free improvisation that feels like Diabaté is allowing you to enter with him into his private meditations. Traces of flamenco as well as Malian traditional sounds can be heard as Diabaté attacks the strings, showcasing his ability to incorporate disparate sounds from Western pop, Indian classical music, and blues while remaining grounded in his country's tradition.
The album's tracks tell stories, often dedicated to loved ones, of pain and happiness. The recording's more traditional tracks include "Djourou Kara Nany," a centuries-old classic first recorded by his father Sidiki Diabaté, which commemorates Alexander the Great, and "Alla l’a ke," (here called "Kaounding Cissoko"), the most emblematic of the early 20th-century repertoire created specifically for the kora.
TOUMANI DIABATE
Wed 11/5, 7:30 p.m., $25-$65
Herbst Theatre
401 Van Ness, SF
(415) 621.6600
www.sfjazz.org
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