{"id":5505,"date":"2016-02-04T04:00:18","date_gmt":"2016-02-04T04:00:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/associatednews.us\/content\/2016\/02\/04\/first-listen-rokia-traore-ne-so\/"},"modified":"2016-02-04T04:00:18","modified_gmt":"2016-02-04T04:00:18","slug":"first-listen-rokia-traore-ne-so","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/associatednews.us\/content\/first-listen-rokia-traore-ne-so\/","title":{"rendered":"First Listen: Rokia Traor\u00e9, 'N\u00e9 So'"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Anastasia Tsioulcas<\/a><\/span> <\/p>\n

\"Rokia<\/a><\/div>\n
<\/strong> 45:35<\/strong><\/div>\n
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Rokia Traore’s new album, Ne So<\/em>, comes out Feb. 12. Danny Willems\/Courtesy of the artist<\/strong> hide caption<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

toggle caption<\/strong> Danny Willems\/Courtesy of the artist<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

These days, the idea of home is on the mind of the fantastically gifted singer, songwriter and instrumentalist Rokia Traor\u00e9<\/a>. It’s been four years since Mali, Traor\u00e9’s native west African country, began descending into ongoing bedlam<\/a>. Only two months ago, jihadists attacked the Radisson Blu hotel in Mali’s capital, Bamako, and left 20 people dead<\/a>. And, of course, the international migrant crisis is staggering in its numbers and complexity: At the end of 2014, the UN Refugee Agency says, 59.5 million people were displaced from their homes \u2014 a historical all-time<\/a> high.<\/p>\n

It’s no surprise that the idea of refuge \u2014 but also of abiding roots, and of possessing bone-deep knowledge of a specific place \u2014 serves as a central catalyst to Traor\u00e9’s gorgeous new album, N\u00e9 So<\/em>, whose title means “home” in the Bambara language.<\/p>\n

The daughter of a diplomat, Traor\u00e9 spent her childhood traveling internationally, and as an adult she’s moved back and forth between Europe and Mali. So it’s no surprise that she spends much of N\u00e9 So<\/em> investigating what, exactly, “home” means \u2014 and what it means when a person loses her or his home.<\/p>\n

Sometimes, Traor\u00e9 seizes on specific material; her sweetly tender song “Kolokani” references an ancestral town as its words alight upon particular experiences. (“Tell the hunters that I was deeply honored, amazed and moved by their tribute when last I visited. … Tell them I think of Kolokani; of the ancestral values of Kolokani; of the Zambila lineage of Kolokani.”)<\/p>\n

At other times, Traor\u00e9 embraces a much wider view: Her collaborators on N\u00e9 So<\/em> include not just a wealth of talented musicians from across western and central Africa, Europe and the U.S., but also guest performers John Paul Jones (of Led Zeppelin<\/a>), Devendra Banhart<\/a> and even author Toni Morrison, who appears in “S\u00e9 Dan.” (The album was produced by John Parish, who also collaborated with Traor\u00e9 on 2013’s superb Beautiful Africa<\/em>.)<\/p>\n

As always with Traor\u00e9, her musical baseline reflects that cosmopolitanism: Listen to “Obik\u00e8” (Thus It Is), with its sinuous, funk-inflected grooves and odd-metered rhythms; “\u00d4 Ni\u00e9l\u00e9” (First Woman), which puts Jones’ bass guitar and Parish’s drum kit front and center alongside Traor\u00e9’s voice; and the Prince<\/a>-ly seductiveness of “Amour” (Love).<\/p>\n

Another element carried over from her previous releases is the critical centrality and forthrightness of her lyrics. In “K\u00e8nia,” Traor\u00e9 delivers a clarion call for behavior and action: “Failure,” she sings, “is due to an aim which has not found the right reasons … The good behavior of our congressmen, the attitude of opposition parties, the behavior of our ministers, the good behavior of our civil servants, the good example of our head of state \u2014 these are things that build a country’s progress, which inspire courage and integrity in a country’s citizens.” (Can you imagine an American singer-songwriter addressing politicians in such a way?)<\/p>\n

Although the album consists mostly of originals, Traor\u00e9 turns to one iconic, darkly bitter American song: Abel Meeropol<\/a>‘s “Strange Fruit,” made famous by Billie Holiday<\/a>. And though the song’s original context is (of course) racism in the U.S., Traor\u00e9’s spare and haunting rendition \u2014 which frames her voice with guitar, bass, ngoni<\/em> lute and drums \u2014 provides a haunting reminder of how cruelty and bloodshed continue in our time.<\/p>\n

Traor\u00e9, however, doesn’t settle for artistic introspection alone. She works closely<\/a> with the UN Refugee Agency, and has been particularly outspoken regarding the crisis in her native country, though she keeps a wider scope. As she begins in the title track’s spoken introduction: “In 2014, another 5,500,000 people fled their homes … forced to seek refuge elsewhere.”<\/p>\n

Her outrage and sorrow are palpable. N\u00e9 So<\/em> is a sonically beautiful project, for sure, and it’s easy to get lost in the lilting rhythms and Traor\u00e9’s smoky voice. But if you’re simply sitting back with this album, you may have missed her point.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Rokia Traor\u00e9, ‘N\u00e9 So’<\/h3>\n
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Rokia Traore, Ne So Courtesy of the artist<\/strong> hide caption<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

toggle caption<\/strong> Courtesy of the artist<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Tu Voles<\/a><\/h4>\n