Roughness and Riverboat

I’ve sung the praises of World Music Network’s Rough Guide series in the past and will continue to do so as long as they keep putting them out at a pace that ranges from steady to almost alarming (more than I could ever hope to cover, even with my selective tastes). And they can feel free to repeat countries and genres, because it’s an awfully big world out there. The sheer volume of available Rough Guides (all of which now come with bonus CDs for further sonic travels) means there’s bound to be something for everybody, even if they don’t know it yet.

Senegal and Gambia were combined on a previous RG, but the former gets a showcase all its own on The Rough Guide to Senegal. One of Africa’s most musically open-minded countries is represented in fine style by the Latin dance band leanings of Orchestra Baobab and Africando All Stars, a swirling track from Youssou N’Dour’s days with Etoile De Dakar, Baaba Maal’s progressive but rooted Afropop, kora-enriched meditations by Mansour Seck and Diabel Cissokho, noted troubadours Cheikh Lo, Ismael Lo (no relation) and Nuru Kane and rap trailblazer Sister Fa (okay, not my thing, but I guess you gotta include what Senegal’s younger set is into). It’s quite a handy little sampler, made even better by the inclusion of Daby Balde’s debut CD as a bonus, spotlighting his blend of tradition and innovation.

Nuru Kane’s style also earns him a spot on The Rough Guide to African Blues, which kicks off with a tingler from Ali Farka Toure’s legendary Radio Mali sessions and builds on an acoustic/electric duality and the kind of measured intensity that defines blues as well as defining its origins as undeniably African.

So it is that emerging stars like Malian band Tamikrest and Niger’s Bombino rock it right, Madagascar’s Lala Njava splits the difference between her homeland and the Mississippi Delta, Menelik Wesnatchew testifies to a golden age Ethiopian splendor and the African Blues Project brings African and U.K. sensibilities together for a first-rate mashup. And that’s not even the half of it. Toss in Amira Kheir’s Sudanese flavors, Danyel Waro’s unaccompanied Reunion Island lament and a second disc of Alhousseini Anivolla’s swaying Saharan style, and you’ve got yourself a must-have.

Take a look at the wide array of countries, cultures, styles and artists listed on The Rough Guide to the Mediterranean. Allow yourself a moment to marvel at the scope, then thrill to the music. Said thrills include but are not limited to Turkey’s Mercan Dede getting his already dependable electronica/roots fusion voiced to perfection by Zerina Cokoja, the finesse of Maurice El Medioni’s Franco-Algerian piano mastery, Fanfara Tirana proving that Albanian brass bands pack as much might as their better known Balkan counterparts, the Nubian splendor of Salamat’s serpentine melodies and Spain’s Benjamin Escoriza channeling equal measures of medieval Andalusia and modern North Africa through his sweetly gruff vocals.

The cutting edge is ably represented by France’s Watcha Clan and the Greek teaming of Kristi Stassinopoulou with Stathis Kalyviotis, and the bonus album features Spanish guitarist Eduardo Niebla alongside Palestinian oud player Adel Salameh in a show of mutual string mastery. Small wonder the Mediterranean remains a center of greatness.

The Rough Guide to Indian Classical Music dips deep into a category I’ve never been a full-on devotee of. Having owned up to that, I do find this collection’s array of sitar masters (including the immediately-comes-to-mind Ravi Shankar) and those who carry on the Vedic era origins of various Indian raga constructs via other instruments like violin (Jyotsna Srikanth), sarod (Amjad Ali Khan) and the human voice (Dr M. Balamuralikrishna) to be a consistently engaging 70 minutes of beauty and complexity.

I sorely lack the expertise to comment on the finer distinctions between the tracks and the specific traditions at the heart of them, but I’ll peg this CD as worth having just for the mind-twisting tabla duet between Allah Rakha and his son Zakir Hussain. And if Amjad Ali Khan’s nearly 18-minute sarod odyssey “Raga Chhaya Nat” doesn’t fill you with bliss, it’s likely nothing will. Not even the slide guitar wizardry of Debashish Bhattacharya as the add-on.

The Rough Guide to Cumbia delightfully runs through several decades worth of Colombia’s signature galloping African-rooted style, from raw drums/flutes/chanting origins to big band permutations with klezmer-ish horns, dance floor fun for those who like salsa and funk tossed in, a nod to Peru’s neighboring chicha variant and bit of modern hip hop fusion from Argentina to top things off.

Los Corraleros De Majagual, mainstays of the legendary Colombian record label Discos Fuentes, give us a dozen sizzling tracks on disc number two, ably demonstrating why they’ve been one of their country’s top cumbia orchestras for half a century. Joyous stuff, recommended for those new to cumbia as well as established fans.

What cumbia is to Colombia, samba is to Brazil. And The Rough Guide to Samba comes on strong thanks in part to focusing on artists who may not be the best known practitioners of samba internationally but all bring something to the table in their own way.

Partideiros Do Cacique’s rapid-fire pagode assault is first-rate, as are Luisa Maita’s understated sensuality, Samba Urbano’s flute-kissed quickie, the clever, quirky electronica polyrhythms of Loop B and, well, everything else on this disc, which doesn’t achieve the impossible task of covering all the bases but still sounds darn good. That goes for the bonus CD as well, on which relative newcomer Ruivao comes across like an old hand with his lively traditional approach.

If you think voodoo is all about zombies and the impaling of doll-sized effigies, go away and don’t come back until you’ve done some rudimentary research on the topic. For the rest of us, The Rough Guide to Voodoo explores music with rhythmic and/or melodic connections to the West African-derived Vodun religion that was brought to the Americas during the slavery era and became known as Vodou in Haiti, Santeria in Cuba and Candomble in Brazil.

Because of Vodou’s belief in the coexistence of physical and spiritual worlds and the presence of saintly supernatural beings who intercede in the affairs of humankind, it fused (though not always easily) with Catholicism, a syncretic relationship that continues to this day. While the historic and cultural sides of the story are complex, the musical manifestations are, as a result, rich and varied. Thus this collection includes two songs dedicated to 19th century New Orleans Voodoo priestess Marie Laveau (one a shuffling piano tribute by Dr. John, the other a horn-heavy homily by Craig Klein and John Boutte), a shout out to the fire deity Shango by Trinidadian calypso star Lord Nelson, percussive invocations from Bata Ketu, a pair of beautifully haunting Brazilian praises courtesy of Baden Powell and Maria Bethania and further spiritual yearnings straight out of Haiti, Benin (the birthplace of Vodun), Cuba and the U.S.

Every track is uniquely engaging, and someone more scholarly and less lazy than me could have a field day describing the intent behind each. Haiti’s Erol Josue, a practicing Vodou priest as well as a musician, is featured on the second disc and successfully modernizes the vibe while keeping authenticity intact.

Cambodian popular music barely managed to survive the horrors of Pol Pot’s barbaric dictatorship. Sadly, some of the artists featured on The Rough Guide to Psychedelic Cambodia did not. I’m a fan of Cambodian revivalist band Dengue Fever but never checked out the deeper foundations of their sound until I heard and seriously dug this disc. Yeah, it’s mainly trippy rock and roll and rhythm and blues with some traditional underpinnings and may not fit your definition of “world” music. Still, it’s great fun and kicks some major ass, thanks to the brilliance of performers like Sinn Sisamouth, the “Elvis of Cambodia” who was brutally murdered by Khmer Rouge goons, and the similarly martyred Pan Ron.

Aforementioned Dengue Fever get their licks in, as do another contemporary band called The Cambodian Space Project, whose bonus CD is equal parts throwback, techno trance and pure cool.

And as long as I’m already jabbering away, I must mention a couple of great new releases on World Music Network’s affiliate label, Riverboat Records. The first is by Malian rising star guitarist and singer Anansy Cisse, who once had his own small studio in the north of Mali, where he recorded other young musicians’ tracks for local release. Then came the invasion of music-suppressing Islamist fanatics, which forced him to shut down his operation and head for the capital city of Bamako, where he tried his hand at laying down material he’d composed but initially meant for others to record. Now Cisse kicks into high gear with Mali Overdrive, which combines rockish intensity like that of Niger’s Bombino (albeit not as fever-pitched) with traditional instrumentation (ngoni lute, calabash percussion, soku fiddle) and the kind of bluesy spirit that Vieux Farka Toure inherited from his father Ali.

The electric wail of Cisse’s guitar often contrasts with generally laid back arrangements for a nice combination of tightly wound and relaxed that leaves room for Cisse to sing about the social and cultural issues of his home country. Fans of Tinariwen, Terakaft and the names I’ve already dropped will like this disc a lot. Count me in.

Finally, there’s the self-titled album by Spain/U.K. quintet Calaita Flamenco Son. Flamenco purists will appreciate the zesty spark and intricate riffing of their twin acoustic guitars and the elegantly rough lead vocals of Chico Pere (who also handles one of the guitars). They don’t stray too far afield of tradition by including percussion, saxophone, flute and bass, and the supporting vocals by Diana Castro likewise aren’t a game-changer. Rather, the excellence of the music lies in the pure passion with which the band delivers it.

Latin, Arabic and jazz subtleties abound, and this crew clearly understands that there’s as much heat to be found in slow, meditative pieces as in the rapid-fire assaults of rhythmic fervor that so often characterize flamenco. I’d like to hear Castro’s voice and Matt Nickson’s reed playing given more prominence on future Calaita Flamenco Son releases, but what they’ve done here is nonetheless superb.