Alguitara

God created countries with a lot of water so that mankind could live in them and deserts for them to recognise their souls

Proverb

Tonight I needed something serious, something defiant, something beautiful, something pure, something so full of fellow feeling and distance that it hurt, in a good way. Tinariwen Amassakoul.

Forgive me for striking up an old tune again but I love Tinariwen. Their iteration of desert blues has for so long been an incredibly potent sound for me. Theirs is music shot through by an indefinable irreducible dignity and yearning that any feeling being exposed to it would pick up on, even if they were ignorant of the terrain, the struggles, the hardships and upheaval that has shaped their history*.

Amassakoul was released in 2004 on World Village, Tinariwen’s second LP proper**. Recorded in Bamoko Amassakoul shows both a pleasing refinement of their debut’s charms and some interesting progressions.

As always where Tinariwen are concerned Amassakoul is a feast for a guitar glutton such as myself; the booklet with the LP gives us the Tamashek word for electric guitar, Alguitara. As usual the guitars are used in a painterly way to conjure atmosphere and colour, as well as to provide a rhythmic loping beat and to cut and spiral excitingly off into the deeper dark. In the title track ‘Amassakoul ‘N’ Ténéré’ (travellers in the desert) they do all three beautifully and yet sparingly.

When Tinariwen bring the hammer down on ‘Oualahila Ar Tesninam’ (Oh My God, You’re Unhappy) its a thrill like few others for me in modern music. The backing vocals chase the action as the beat rattles on and those guitars sing out across the spaces. The message is, don’t hide your pain, it will eat you up, confront it – beat it.

‘Chatma’ (Our Sisters) is a deceptively gentle, light-footed challenge and call to arms, ‘At the gates of Kidal we must assemble and fight / As strong as you might be / You will burn in our fire’. You do not take the martial prowess of those who have lived this desert life lightly, they have been forged under a far harsher sun. Think of all those punk rockers shouting about revolution and rebellion, wearing combat gear and try to stop yourself sneering at their well-fed and watered softness; I can’t.

Amassakoul takes a sharp left on the beautiful ‘Arawan’ (named after a town) and its message of dislocation and nostalgia. It is sparingly played and largely chanted, almost rapped. This vocal style is slightly revisited, in a more fiery guitar-driven form in ‘Chet Borghassa’ (The Girls Of Borghassa).

Gentle reader I will spare you a full track-by-track rending of Amassakoul, but I cannot resist a few highlights more.

There is the full band sound of ‘Amidinin’ (My Friend) which masks a yearning for companionship sundered by separation, a dislocation of peoples and land. There is also the ancient sounding ‘Ténéré Daféo Nikchan’ (I’m In A Desert With A Wood Fire) which is strong enough to stir a bittersweet nostalgia for desert nights in me, despite the fact I have never been to one and I’m from a decidedly soggy part of Wales! The flute that flickers fleetingly at the edges of this tune like a tongue of flame is a thing of beauty.

‘Eh Massina Sintadoben’ (God Is The One Who Can) bears me aloft on swift wings of guitar and a chanting vocal that seems equally reverent and defiant. My vinyl copy ends with a bonus track ‘Taskwit Tadjat’ recorded in Bath, it is a sweeter, fuller concoction than everything preceding it but it is a fitting, intricate ending for the album.

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Tinariwen were just the ticket tonight. Amassakoul is a really good album too, not quite my favourite of theirs but that’s an exacting standard.

There is something about Tinariwen’s music that I find really emotional, it cuts through all my defences somehow and I do really value that. The sense of space and the environment this music was created in are beautifully evoked in the melodies and mostly spare rhythms of the songs. There is also something liberating about lyrics being sung in a language you don’t know, I find that I focus on the delivery and intent of the singers much more. Maybe it is that act of disengaging the old brain that helps me to feel this music more.

I commend Amassakoul to you, buy it and then buy everything else Tinariwen have ever done, read about Mali and engage. This alguitara music will never let you down.

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Amassakoul was not released on vinyl in 2004 as was the way of the world back then. My copy is a luxurious 2022 reissue on indigo vinyl with a nice booklet containing a great article/essay by Francis Dordor, a really informative piece.

1285 Down.

*I have written about it all before and so have better scribes than I.

**I am simplifying slightly here.