Ever since I was lucky enough to hear Habib Koité and his band play live in the Dogon village of Bandiagara, all it takes is a snippet of one of his lovely, lilting guitar riffs to transport me straight back to Mali’s dusty heartlands. The venue for that low-key concert was the village basketball court, the audience was a motley mix of scruffy kids, self-conscious teenagers and uninhibitedly enthusiastic adults, and the atmosphere was unforgettable. Utterly charismatic, Koité is a generous performer who allows his fellow musicians – electrifying drummers and balafon (wooden xylophone) players – to shine. Even after the event, I’d hear Koité’s music floating out of cassette players wherever I went; it became the soundtrack to my trip.

Koité found international fame a few years later with two albums, Baro and Ma Ya, entrancingly gentle collections of songs featuring Koité’s unmistakable Bamana lyrics and acoustic guitar. In his long-awaited new album, Afriki, there’s an extra dimension – in Nta Dima, a male chorus adds raw texture to the sound, while elsewhere, Koité showcases little-heard acoustic instruments such as n’goni (lute) and polyphonic hunter’s horns. “I want to open a small window to the new generation,” he says.

By writing about responsibility and determinism, Koité’s album is a love letter to a changing nation. Reinterpreting the time-honoured role of the West African griot as praise-singer and cultural custodian, he speaks directly to his fellow Malians, encouraging them to rise to the challenges presented by modern living while preserving all that’s precious, from trees to family traditions.

“People in Africa are willing to risk death trying to leave for Europe or the USA, but they are not willing to take that risk staying to develop something here in Africa,” says Koité. “Life can be really good or really bad wherever you live. People need to understand that. Even though Mali is poor, we still have a good quality of life: you can walk outside and smile, and someone will smile back.”