Amadou & Mariam - Folila

While it is difficult to review an album that is primarily recorded in a language you don’t understand, it can certainly be a testament to the power of music as a communicative medium. So much of music philosophy centres on the concept of whether sound, in and of itself, can communicate emotion. If there was ever an argument that it does, Amadou & Mariam may well be flying the flag in the modern popular music context.

‘Folila’ (which means “music” in Bambara), their follow-up to the Damon Albarn produced ‘Welcome To Mali’, sees the duo return with an album that was originally supposed to be in two parts: the first, a collaborative and experimental effort with North American and British musicians; the second being a more traditional, rootsy album with musicians from other parts of Africa. However, upon hearing both sessions played back to back, a decision was made to combine the two.

Much like their previous albums, ‘Folila’ has an amazing synergy between all of their influences. That idea translates to their sound, which at its best, is beyond uplifting. It is actually transcendental. You don’t really have to know what they’re singing about to get a lot out of their work. However, where ‘Welcome To Mali’ literally welcomed you into their world, with all of its electronic adornments to ease non-Bambara speaking listeners into their music, ‘Folila’ dilutes their more traditional instincts. It is experimental from a compositional point of view, but not necessarily aurally.

The staggering list of collaborators reads like a hipster’s wet dream: Bertrand Cantat of Noir Desir, TV on the Radio, Scissor Sisters’ Jake Shears, Santigold, Theophilus London and Ebony Bones! to name a few. By and large these collaborations work; Bones! brings an infectiously high-energy to ‘C’est Pas Facile Pour les Aigles’, ‘Dougou Badia’ is helped by Santigold’s defiant chanting, Cantat brings a perilous air to the darker, waltz-like ‘Mogo’.

However, ‘Folila’’s problem is that in comparison to the cuts where Amadou & Mariam are left to their devices, the other collaborations either sound limp (‘Wily Kataso’ with TV On The Radio) or they just grate (‘Metemya’ with Jake Shears). If Amadou & Mariam are to have any accompaniment, it is most effective when it is more clandestine. ‘Bagnale’ features some killer accompaniment by Tuareg guitarist, Abdallah Oumbadougou but it doesn’t overpower. ‘Chérie’ sees Mariam leading a beautiful sing-along with a group of children. It’s kept simple, but that’s all it needs. ‘Sans Toi’ (which, rather aptly, means ‘without you’) is haunted by the ghost of the delta blues.

All of this highlights why Welcome to Mali worked so well. Though Damon Albarn’s prints were all over the production with his whirring, blippy synthesizers, it was unobtrusive and valuable in equal measure (‘Sabali’ being the best example, and a career highlight). Every sound, no matter how different from each other they were, fit together to make an extremely cohesive whole. There was a paradox of the familiar and the innovative.

Criticisms aside though, there is a lot to be enjoyed in ‘Folila’ as even its low points are far better than many people’s career highlights. You also can’t deny how exciting it is to have such an esteemed list of collaborators in one place. However, ‘Folila’’s best moments do inadvertently serve as a reminder of how good Amadou & Mariam are without the hired help.