Music / Reviews
Vieux Farka Touré, Bristol Beacon – ‘Sprawling instrumental brilliance’
I came across Vieux Farka Touré’s music via the Touré-Raichel Collective — a project with keyboardist and writer Idan Raichel. The virtuosic, collaborative nature of that work, especially on The Tel Aviv Session, seems symptomatic of Touré’s approach to music more broadly.
So, in 2022, when he released Ali – a celebration of his father’s discography – alongside Khruangbin, my ears really rather pricked up. That record has been a surefire catalyst for his blossoming popularity, at least here in the UK.
Touré’s a wonderful talent: a pool of confidence and warmth on stage. With six solo albums to his name and a heap of collaborative work he’s dubbed, perhaps a touch clumsily, the Hendrix of the Sahara.
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To be honest, I see it. He’s got the boogie muscle. His skill on the guitar is extraordinary, and he treats us to the full breadth of his abilities, ‘oscillating artfully between Malian Folk and the Desert Blues which first made the Farka Touré name legend’.
Alas, it’d be remiss not to mention that lineage, such is its grandeur. Touré’s father — “Ali Farka” — is perhaps Mali’s most famous musical export, a singer and multi-instrumentalist who blended the sounds of his nation with broader folk and blues influences. Vieux has picked up the mantle. Boy has he.
Les Racines, released in 2022, is as sublime a summary of his class as any other output. The titular song — largely without lyrics — captivates the crowd entirely. The intro to Tinnondirene is similarly typical of his playfulness.
Touré tells us: “We prefer to just play, so…let’s just play.” Occasional snippets of wisdom include the need to “Live together, we are all human”.
Perhaps as good a time as any to mention the masterful fingerwork on the oud guitar from the night’s support artist — Palestinian Saied Silbak. His meandering compositions and Arabic covers had a stunning, ethereal quality to them.
We’re treated to several high-energy, sprawling displays of instrumental brilliance from Touré’s acoustic quartet, a line-up he’s touring for the first time. The compositions punch a rich tapestry of sound into a crowd packed with bobbing heads.
Some of the downturns allow for Touré’s powerful, evocative voice to echo through the vast Beacon Hall. You don’t need to understand the lyrics to be touched by their intonations. We’re even treated to some melodic call-and-response action, and more than one interlude of improvisation.
He is the man, but the other three steal the limelight at intervals.
The percussionist is rhythm manifest. Whilst some of the double-time snare becomes a little overbearing in a few drawn-out tracks, the bass globe dome at the front of the stage is a genuine first in my time, and I struggle to take my eyes off it. I’m not quite sure how to describe it. This. There’s your description. The deep bass it kicks out is offset miraculously by little shakers and sharp snarey clicks.
The bassist is lured into the groove by Touré’s infectious smile, and the other player – well. I don’t even know. He’s sporting a paddle-like, tiny stringed instrument that he’s somehow able to draw delicious riffs and slick little solos from. It’s beyond me.
After ninety scintillating minutes, the quartet finishes with Diarabi, Touré and Khruangbin’s reimagining of his father’s emotive piece. We’re all up at this point; swaying, cheering, thanking.
It’s a slick tour set, an exhibition of expertise, and a window into a world of music that genuinely captivates.
All photos: Samuel Fletcher
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