Tinariwen
Elwan

2016: The "Tinariwen" arrive in my city and my knowledge of the Malian group is... none. The concert, moreover, costs 10€, but it takes place in a little square in the center, outdoors (July) and so the notes reverberate throughout the center.

I get curious, get closer, and eavesdrop into the square, I'm told I need to pay for the ticket. Rightly so.

I play the “short arms” and say, smiling embarrassedly, "I’ll just listen for a moment, then I'll leave," but I don't, I stay there, captivated, enchanted, hypnotized by the percussion, the detuned guitars, the clapping, without understanding a single word. The goofy smile disappears, I gain emotional awareness, the music does everything else.

African blues. Tuareg, they tell me. I hastily buy the ticket to "see them face to face," even though not much can be seen of their faces, all covered as they are. Shortly after, I also buy the album, this "Elwan" ("Elephants") that they didn't want to sell me. It was a complicated negotiation, because they couldn't complete the sale on the spot, even though they had produced it, recorded it, and only had a few physical copies after it was recorded in the Zagora area in Morocco, because it needed to pass through the Parisian record label's supervision and they needed their ok, who wanted its official release in 2017. With a French not of the freshest memory, I make myself understood and purchase a copy, certainly not one of those that later went on sale, but never mind. I have the album. It contains 11 tracks (there will be 13 in the one on sale from 2017, with two ghost tracks of the song "Fog Edegàn").

Before starting to listen, I just need to understand "who" I purchased, the "why" I will discover later.

The “who” comes easily these days. I just need to google it (or googlare, if you prefer this "verbal form") and I discover Ibrahim Ag Alhabib (guitar and voice) and his incredible and evocative life story, which fortunately continues despite the trench wars and the militias of (dis)organized terrorism. Whoever does not know this symbol of the Malian population is invited to do as I did to remedy such a lack; it’s worth it.

The native of Tessalit, a mountainous area in the middle of nowhere in the Mali desert, is not alone in this musical adventure, but alongside him is a large group of musicians who accompany him, mostly found in military camps and his subsequent movements through Europe (mainly France and Belgium).

There are Alhassane Ag Touhami (guitar and vocals), Abdallah Ag Alhousseyni (guitar and vocals), Eyadou Ag Leche (baritone guitar, acoustic guitar, calabash, voice and vocals), Said Ag Ayad (percussion and vocals), Elaga Ag Hamid (guitar and voices), Abdallah “Intidao” Ag Lamida, who in 2015 escaped imprisonment by Islamic fundamentalists for several months, safe and sound (guitar and vocals), Mohammed Ag Tahada (percussion), Yad Abderrahmane (guitar and voices), plus other members who generally do not go on tour with the band.

I don't feel like doing a technical analysis of this group and this record, as I have done so far, not because it's not possible, but because the sensations that listening to this album provokes are the main protagonists of this work, along with the lyrics, which I managed to find here and there, a bit in English and a bit in French, which are simple and pragmatic poems to be nourished by in a loop.

Melancholy (Ténéré Takhal - What happened to my desert). The desert is missing in the Tuareg rock of "Sastanàqqàm", oh if it's missing.

Ténéré sastanàqqàm / Desert, I ask you

Indek immik was mad nàrti / How I and you can stay together

Nàkk d- kàmm wàr nànmàksàn / Without hate, one for the other

Nàkk idjodadàgh nilmàd tekle / I can say that I have traveled all over the world

Isikilàn djer ikallàn / I swear to you, as long as I'm alive

Ténéré Ténéré / Desert, Desert

Ténéré naghehàd-kàmm / Desert, I will return to you

(Sastanàqqàm – I ask you)

Joy, of being alive ("Hayati" - My life), of being able to make music freely ("Imidiwan n-akal-in" - Friends of my country) and not being forced to take up arms again, always believing in the union of the Berber people ("Ittus" - Our objective), the voice of Mark Lanegan (ex-leader of the "Screaming Trees") whispering hope in "Nànnuflày", the understated, non-excessive guitars of Kurt Vile and Mike Sweeney in "Tiwàyyen" (The hills) and the usual desire not to give up ("Assàwt" – Voice) and continue the cultural revolution in Africa.

Legh amidi-nin / The one you find in solitude

S-inta niflas / Is a prisoner of selfishness

Hi isaswen ulh-in / I have a friend on whom I can rely to quench the thirst

Alwàqq d-intas / That burns in my heart

(Nànnuflày – Satisfied)

The elephant ("Elwan") has memory, just like the "Tinariwen" ("The deserts") who do not forget who they are, where they come from, and where they want to return... speaking of memory...

"Why" did I purchase this album? Because it gives trust. To those who have everything to lose in their life, thanks to music, in this specific case, it can find a way, a means, a language to communicate with everyone, in all five continents. A language called "hope", that can change our world, where there is a deep need, allowing at the same time a maintenance and consolidation of one's roots, language, customs, and fighting for the realization of the dream: respect, identity, and freedom.

A bit more of lived experience, a bit less of a review. Forgive me, if you can.