Baro

Baro

Now with his third album, Habib Koité has grown into a real triple threat. Not only is he a superb songwriter and singer, he's also a trained guitarist of remarkable style and invention, whose playing inspiration comes from native instruments, such as the harp-like kora--he often imitates its rippling runs--or the lute-like n'goni. Koité is very rooted, both in his own playing and that of his band, Bamada, but the structure and harmonies of his songs are readily accessible to Western audiences, a move away from the more bluesy idioms of, say, Boubacar Traore. Add to that a lilting, seductive voice, and Koité basically has all the goods in one package. At the same time, this is no compromise album in search of stardom in the West. This is very much the real Mali deal, as is apparent in the last few cuts, when the band switches to a more <I>Wassoulou</I> approach (from the south of the country, and typified by singers like Oumou Sangare), with its harsher, drier tone. But by then you've been won over. Koité is, without doubt, a major talent, and this record could well be his breakthrough to the big time. He's paid his dues and earned his status. The man is a star. <I>--Chris Nickson</I>