Agricantus
Tuareg

THE REVIEW

I sank my hands into the mud and silt stuck under my nails. Songs like slow caravans, traveling towards ghost towns covered by desert dust.

Each track is a diamond in the sand, from “Ljuljuten” (where the singer Rosie Wiederkehr begins to rap softly and then releases her astonishing voice in a Tamachek lullaby) to “Disiu,” where a loving prayer unfolds on a blue trip hop cloak; moving through the dancing anxiety of “Com'U Ventu” and into the arms of the charming “Carizzi R'Amuri,” a dream of Es Souk before the disappearance of the surrounding waters (and you also feel filled when you hear the words “Es Souk si inchi, u cori si inchi” coming from Wiederkehr's lips, who had previously surrendered to plaintive vocalizations in the background).

The album is a real surprise. I never thought that world music could be so stylish. Here, the sounds of traditional instruments from different parts of the world are fused into an acidic electronic mix, making us sink below zero like on a chilly Saharan night. Loops copulate with the beats of the darabouka, voices overlap and intertwine, then dissolve into mysterious echoes beneath a flock of woods (Arghul, Duduk). A myriad of sounds, intelligently combined, for listening at a volume high enough to penetrate the eardrum and split the brain in two, allowing the music to find the space it needs within.