Into the Tradition

I perked up when “Taxi Brousse,” which sounded like a kora-cized version of “Can’t Buy Me Love,” came on Spotify’s Oumou Sangaré Radio. This 1 plus 1/2 minute song was put down a few years ago by 3MA — an Afropop supergroup made up of three players of different string instruments: Ballaké Sissoko from Mali on kora, Driss El Maloumi from Morocco on oud and Rajery from Madagascar on valiha. The band takes its name from the first two letters of each member’s country of origin in French: Madagascar, Mali, and Maroc.

One song led to another…

3MA are usually content to keep it instrumental so it was a sweet shock when an Arabesque singer stretched out above, leaning into his keening. The band got really hot after his second shot.  His third time around avec falsetto finished me. The song’s mood music had me musing on the mandolin in “Caledonia Soul Music” and Van the Man’s “Almost Independence Day.” One of those Africans plucks like the guitarist (was it Morrison or Ron Eliot?) whose thuddy notes evoke fireworks over boats in the harbor. I flashed on how Van’s stream of consciousness made me feel the spray from San Francisco Bay, see the shine on the water, hear the people shouting out (almost), though, tbr, I’ve never been up and down that line.

The first time I heard “Day” was on the first night of my first road trip with my first girl. As I headed back down south in my head, Dylan’s “Key West” floated up from beneath the sea. Something in the ether was making me wonder if there was an echo of 3MA’s “Awal” in Dylan’s trip. But after going down to the flat lands, I realized what I was hearing in “Awal” was the chiming, stop-and-start heart of his “Long and Wasted Years.” (Someone in 3MA must have elephant ears.)


Hope this hasn’t been a waste of your time. (But that’s the way love goes.)