Ali Farka Toure: “Savane”

“The D.N.A. of the blues” – Martin Scorsese on Savane

I have no recollection of where I heard about Ali Farka Toure for the first time. I know that I heard of him in my first year of community college (2006, the year Savane was released), and I clearly remember thinking how weird it would probably seem to other people that my newest favorite album was Savane rather than FutureSex/LoveSounds.

I have an interesting relationship with Toure’s Savane. It’s an album that is almost always on my iPod, I’ve shared it with pretty much everyone I know, and I’ve posted something Savane-related, whether a song or a half-assed review, on pretty much every blog I’ve ever started (and stopped writing on out of laziness.)

It seems to have snuck its way into my library and never let go. From the beginning of my exposure to Toure’s music, I have maintained a certain distance from it unlike anything I’ve done with any other artist. I couldn’t tell you what one sentence on the entire album means, and anyone who knows me personally can tell you that that is out of character.

I like to research an album whether I enjoy it or not. I love reading about where the inspiration came from, what equipment was used on the recordings, what city the sessions took place in, the musicians involved, and every other minute detail that went into making the final product.

With Savane, I have always kept it at a distance, and writing this article has forced me to think about why. The album is so deeply rooted in another place, and there is something almost mystical about it. Yes, I agree that this sounds stupid, or at least inadequate as a reason. But to me, Ali Farka Toure’s status as one of Mali’s national icons strikes a chord with me. He is widely considered one of the best guitar players ever, and his music is the Malian voice.

I have always had great respect for Toure because of his role as a link between traditional Malian music and Western blues. Savane is a perfect example of this link. Toure plays his blues-inspired guitar part over a traditional rhythm section. It’s the perfect mixture of two cultures.

My perspective of Toure’s influence, whether you think it’s misplaced or not, has offered me countless fantastic experiences with Savane. Listening to it is an experience for me. When I lived in Seminole, I would always play the album when I was cleaning my room, and I always have to play a Savane track when I have a long drive (“Soya” is my favorite.) I’ve had people over to my place and had the album playing in the background, usually unnoticed under talking, but still there.

Toure’s guitar playing is the highlight, but the entire album’s composition acts as an instrument in itself. In keeping with blues and traditional Malian music, the repetition is strong. The same line is played over and over again while Toure and his backup singers do call-and-response. Most songs have the same musical phrase repeated throughout the entire piece. It’s simple, and it’s perfect.

In keeping with my tradition of writing something Savane-related (hopefully not half-assed), I will use Folkways as a way to tell you that you really need to listen to this album. And make sure to listen to it in its entirety, preferably when you have nothing else happening around you. I guarantee you’ll feel better afterwards.