Edition 42: Spring 2008 In Cape Verde, where traditional music is gloriously melancholic, a new generation of young female singers is blowing away the cobwebs, says Emma Gregg
The Cape Verde Islands have bred generation after generation of strong women. Thousands of islanders have emigrated over the years, daunted by the prospect of eking out a living among deserts and volcanoes, and the women left behind have traditionally relied on music to express their loss. Singers such as Cesaria Evora, who pour out their hearts in melodic mornas – emotional songs about love, sadness and longing, soothe the spirits of the entire nation.
Titina, a contemporary of Evora living in Lisbon, is one of the islands’ most stirring singers. Her new album Cruel Destino (Cruel Fate), released after a long, pining fourteen-year wait in which she chose to tour instead of record, is full of songs drenched in huskily indulgent sodade, or nostalgia.
There’s something highly endearing about Titina’s heartfelt laments accompanied by lilting piano, weeping fiddle and gypsy clarinet, and her style remains hugely popular on the islands. But a fresh new breeze has begun to blow through Cape Verdean music. Bright young singers such as Lura, Sara Tavares and Mayra Andrade tend to steer clear of the wallowing melancholy that’s the legacy of their elders. Andrade (pictured left), who recently toured with Angelique Kidjo, is one of the three West Africans nominated for Best Newcomer in the 2008 BBC Radio 3 Awards for World Music; both Lura and Tavares have been nominated in previous years.
Andrade has a voice to make anyone swoon: it’s as silky and seductive as Brazilian bossa nova diva Bebel Gilberto, and as spirited as Lanzarotean singer-songwriter Rosana. Compared to the mournful offerings of her elders, her album Navega (Upon the Waves) is positively upbeat, with a lilting Latin sound spiced with playful guitar chords. You can almost hear her smile. Recent releases The Mandé Variations Toumani Diabaté (Mali) World Circuit With a couple of gigantically successful recent albums under his belt – one, a historic collaboration with Ali Farka Touré, the other, a reinvention of the Malian big band sound – kora master Toumani Diabaté could so easily have coasted along for a year or two. Instead, he treats us to a solo acoustic performance so intimate and contemplative, listening feels akin to eavesdropping. Smooth and complex as a sip of vintage wine, this is a contender for album of the decade. Sunugaal Awadi (Senegal) Mr Bongo Dakar-born Didier Awadi is a hard-hitting rapper with a strong socio-political conscience, and a fast-growing following. Controversially, his album’s title track tackles the tragedy of the death of would-be migrants between Senegalese and Spanish shores. While urging people against risking everything in a flimsy boat, he points an accusing finger at the Senegalese government for not addressing the issue head on. Released online before it appeared in the shops, the track broke all previous records for online music sales in Senegal. Remixed: UFOs over Bamako Vieux Farka Touré (Mali) Modiba You’re the son of one of the most famous musicians Africa has ever produced, you’re immensely proud of your heritage, but you want to find your own voice. What do you do? If you’re Touré the younger, you call in the services of a crack team of Brooklyn-based remixers. Together, they’ve come up with a desert blues album laced, surprisingly respectfully, with funky electronica. It’s interesting. Give it a try.
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