It's close to sunset on a late December day in the village of Bandiagara in central Mali and the air is beginning to cool. This is the time of day when the village shakes off the languor of the sunbaked afternoon and re-energises itself. Children scamper after footballs, mopeds buzz along the main street and the dying light filters though a haze of rising dust as compounds are briskly swept.

In many ways it's an evening like any other, but today, Bandiagara, a bustling but remote village up to six hours by road from the capital, is possessed with a special energy, focussed on the concrete-walled, open-air basketball courts at the end of the village. The low platform at one end of the courts has been rigged up with lights and a sound system, and an expectant crowd is milling around outside. Habib Koité and his band Bamada have arrived for a one-night-only gig, and everybody's going.

As the band take to the stage, the audience do not whistle and cheer but sit in orderly rows on iron benches to listen respectfully and attentively. But by the end of the evening they're all up on their feet - the rhythms and melodies are so infectious that everyone, from the tiniest toddler to the ancient and arthritic, is up and dancing. The band play a tight set - vibrant, punchy balafon and djembé, rippling guitar - and soaring over the arrangements are Koité's trademark lyrics, full of affection for the fragile lacework of traditions that constitute his native culture.

Mali, arid and impoverished, landlocked in the heart of West Africa and nourished by the Niger, has an astoundingly fertile musical tradition. It's a dynamic tradition, which has produced some of the most soulful, the most emotive and the most danceable music of the entire continent. Habib Koité is currently one of Mali's most celebrated musical stars and his superlative album Ma Ya took the world music scene by storm on its release, going on to top the European world music charts for an unprecedented three months. Touring Europe and the States has brought him huge global recognition and acclaim but, like many other Malian stars before him who have made it big in the international arena, Koité has not abandoned his roots. It's a choice that brings its own rewards: the Malian people are the greatest devotees of their own music, and whenever a big name plays a home crowd the reception is overwhelmingly enthusiastic.

Habib Koité's on-stage persona is utterly charismatic, a compelling mixture of humility, virtuosity and sheer enjoyment of the music that is his birthright. These are qualities shared by a great many Malian musicians, who view their talents as, quite literally, god-given gifts and acknowledge their musicianship as a pre-determined vocation rather than a chosen path.

Traditionally, many Malians have no right to choose whether to become musicians or not; it's all a matter of parentage. Among the Mandé, Koité's own culture, music is a hereditary vocation and the traditional musicians, known as jelis and, in the case of women, jelimusolu (or, in French, griots and griottes), are all born into a single caste, with skills being passed from father to son, mother to daughter, or master to protegé. Thus many jelis share a surname: names such as Diabaté, Kouyaté and Sissoko crop up again and again in musical circles.

Although not a high-ranking caste in Mali's ancient social hierarchy, the jelis are treated with great respect because of the unique role they play in Malian society. At the time of the Mandé empire their main function was to entertain the nobility with musical epics and flatter them (and anyone they sought to impress) with praise songs. The jelis were, and still are, guardians of community history, folklore and traditional music, much of which was, until relatively recently, unscripted and unrecorded. As such they retain an essential ritual function at family rites of passage, as well as providing entertainment at other social gatherings.

Praise songs still make up an important part of the repertoire, particularly that of the jelimusolu, who typically belt out ritual numbers at naming ceremonies and weddings. These songs are also the musicians' bread and butter - if singers praises you, you reward them with cash. Many jelis and jelimusolu make far more money from their patrons than from royalties: the flamboyant Kandia Kouyaté has been at the top of her profession for over two decades, but didn't make an internationally released CD until 1999.

Jelis are sometimes commissioned to act as intermediaries, helping to resolve disputes or forge associations by passing messages of praise from one individual or family to another. Virtuoso kora player Toumani Diabaté once put it that they are "the needle that sews". They can also act as political and social commentators, satirists and educators. Baye Diabaté, a young jeli from Kita in western Mali, is a member of a troupe that was recently commissioned by the Malian cotton marketing board to assist in a re-education project. "The intention was to introduce local farmers to new ideas about agricultural practice", he says. "We devised a musical play based around a simple fable and toured the community performing it. It helped get the message across."

Malian society is an intricate mosaic of ethnic groups and in certain regions it is possible for talented individuals to challenge the closed shop of hereditary musicianship. The Wassoulou region south of Bamako has nurtured a number of musicians who are musicians by choice, rather than by birth. Here the whole premise is different - Wassoulou musicians claim to sing out of passion rather than for patronage and they address the everyday concerns of ordinary people in their lyrics. Instead of expecting their audiences to listen quietly and respectfully, they want them to get up and dance. By far the most famous Wassoulou singer is Oumou Sangaré, dubbed "the thinking person's African diva". She was so terrified at the prospect of her first public engagement, aged six, at a vast sports arena in Bamako, that her mother had to reassure her by whispering "Just sing like you're home in the kitchen". She grew up to become a fabulous and feisty performer who's not afraid to tackle, head on, thorny issues such as polygamy, undereducation, arranged marriages and the stigma of childlessness.

Another extraordinary exception to the rule of musicians being born of musicians is the man who is probably Mali's greatest star, Salif Keïta. The Keïtas are a high-ranking family and Salif, born an albino and therefore stigmatised by a large section of his community, was completely disowned by his parents when he decided to pursue a career in music. Undeterred, he found fame by fronting the Rail Band and Les Ambassadeurs, legendary Bamako-based dance bands, and went on to become one of his country's greatest exports. Keïta has a magpie-like talent for incorporating fascinating cross-cultural references into his music, and he is perhaps best known for exploring the deep-running connections between Mandé music and Cuban rumba and son, with stunning results.

While Keïta's work illuminates the shared ancestry of Malian and Caribbean music, the sparse, hauntingly textured music of Ali Farka Touré, and that of his protegé Afel Bocoum, offers convincing evidence that Mali is also the birthplace of the blues. Inspired by the river Niger that runs past his home, and by the ebb and flow of the arid landscape that borders it, Ali Farka Touré claims to play "by intuition, not imitation", but his unmistakable guitar and deeply spiritual vocals carry such strong echoes of American delta blues that it was a natural step for him to be invited to collaborate with such luminaries as Ry Cooder and Taj Mahal.

Malian music, in all its guises, gets right under your skin. The Malians themselves are fiercely proud of the value of their musical heritage and of the sheer enjoyment it brings, and many are eager to share their music with visitors to their country. Music enriches every corner of the Malian social landscape, and concerts, impromptu jam sessions and private lessons are accessible to outsiders who are prepared to take a little time to discover where to look and who to ask.

The capital, Bamako, is the obvious starting point. It's here that the biggest concerts are staged, and many bars, clubs and restaurants host small gigs. The fortress-like Institut National des Arts, a centre for cultural activities in the capital, can be a good place to make connections. You might also consider arranging to visit a town that has a particularly strong jeli tradition, such as Kita, west of Bamako, or Kela, in the south. Both options demand a lengthy journey (at least four hours by elderly train to Kita, up to four hours by rough roads to Kela), but that's a very small price to pay for the chance to develop your interest at grass roots level.

And if your interest develops into an addiction, well, don't say I didn't warn you.

London-based Emma Gregg has travelled extensively in West and East Africa and has contributed to numerous travel guides including West Africa - The Rough Guide and Kenya - The Rough Guide.

Essential Listening

Most of the leading lights of the Malian music scene have made recordings which are available worldwide. If you're not sure where to start, you can't go wrong with the following selection.

Toumani Diabaté Djelika (Hannibal / Rykodisc, 1995)
One of Mali's greatest kora players, Toumani Diabaté has recently made big news with his cross-cultural collaborative projects, working first with flamenco group Ketama and then with blues guitarist Taj Mahal. This earlier, more traditional,release, is kora at its best.

Salif Keïta Folon... The Past (Island, 1995)
This stands out among Keïta's excellent catalogue as a showcase for his supremely lyrical vocals. Here he injects classical Maninka melodies with, by turns, lively doses of American funk, Caribbean reggae and Congolese soukous; the result is eclectic, dynamic, and very self-assured.

Habib Koité & Bamada Ma Ya (Virgin / Putumayo, 1998)
Dominated by Koité's own distinctively-tuned guitar and intimate, husky-edged vocals, this is a beautiful album of swaying rhythms and evocative melodies. Koité's lyrics are delicate and reflective, full of wistful celebration of human virtues, tradition and life itself.

Kandia Kouyaté Kita Kan (Stern's, 1999)
The town of Kita in western Mali has produced many outstanding musicians and Kandia Kouyaté, nicknamed "La Dangereuse" for her intoxicating stage presence, is one of its most celebrated (and wealthiest) praise-singers. Here herrich contralto soars over highly original, lushly orchestrated arrangements of traditional Mandé melodies.

Oumou Sangare Worotan (World Circuit, 1996)
With strident, thought-provoking lyrics, stirring call-and-response female vocals, virtuoso instrumentalism and downright catchy tunes, this shining example of the Wassoulou sound deserves every ounce of the huge acclaim it has received. Worotan means "ten kola nuts", the traditional Malian bride price, and women's rights are a recurring theme.

Ali Farka Touré with Ry Cooder Talking Timbuktu (World Circuit, 1994)
Recorded in three days, this ground-breaking collaboration swept listeners off their feet. It went on to scoop a Grammy award and is an acknowledged classic of African desert blues.

Rokia Traoré Mouneïssa (Label Bleu / Indigo, 1998)
This, the debut solo album from this young singer-songwriter, marked her out as a talent to watch. Her recent second release, Wanita, is equally beguiling. Traoré's dreamy vocals are accompanied by an innovative combination of balaba (a type of balafon), ngoni and bass.

Various Artists The Rough Guide to the Music of Mali and Guinea (World Music Network, 2000)
The ethnic, linguistic and musical connections between these countries run deep. This new collection provides an uplifting, invigorating introduction to the music of the region, including tracks by Afel Bocoum, Ali Farka Touré, Boubacar Traoré and the Rail Band.

Published in Travel Africa Edition Fourteen: Winter 2000/2001 Text is subject to Worldwide Copyright (c)k.