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Boubacar Traoré

An unplanned career


Paris 

08/06/2005 - 

What will tomorrow bring? God only knows! Boubacar Traoré talks to RFI Musique about his new album Kongo Magni with a certain detachment that reflects a life lived without illusion.


 
 
Of course Boubacar Traoré is proud of Kongo Magni, his fifth album, made with a posse of friends (including Vincent Bucher on harmonica and Régis Gizavo on accordion). But he's just as proud of his children and grandchildren, or his house in Bamako where he spends his days peacefully. Will there be another album? Maybe, maybe  not. "Whether I continue to make music or not doesn't necessarily depend on me. It's the producers who decide. In any case I can live without music, I can get by without it." Boubacar Traoré knows that life is full of chance and luck, for good or ill. His nickname, Kar Kar, dates back to his days as a local football star in Kayes, Mali. In the early sixties, he was famous across Mali; the radio played his hit Mali Twist non-stop. The song asked his compatriots to roll up their sleeves to rebuild the country after independence. Shortly after, he disappeared from the music scene, and he was quickly forgotten. When fate played a dirty trick on him, taking his beloved wife Pierrette from him, he left for new pastures, in France, where he continued with his singing.  A meeting with English producers gave him a second shot at life.

In England, he recorded two albums, Mariama and Kar Kar. He toured Switzerland, Canada and the United States. In short, he drew strength from his grief, rather than let it destabilise him, starting a second career after a long silence, and Mali rediscovered its forgotten hero. On the initiative of the Revue Noire, a glossy French magazine dedicated to contemporary African and Caribbean art, he recorded a new album with Ali Farka Touré, Toumani Diabaté and Kélétigui Diabaté. Others followed, but not too many, because "I have to progress slowly." There's no point in running too fast, or planning anything. "I'm 63, but I'm in good shape," he says with a smile. "Nonetheless, death can strike at any time. Today, I'm a man fulfilled." He's flattered by the full houses he still plays to, the book published on him (Mali Blues by Lieve Joris, Actes Sud), not to mention a film (Je chanterai pour toi, by Jacques Sarasin), but his joy is nonetheless hardly excessive. To spend time in his company is to encounter a certain tranquil melancholy.

 
  
 
One of Mali's most respected singers, Boubacar Traoré is a charming man who is also very modest. Whatever sorrows he suffers, he never speaks of them. Je chanterai pour toi (I'll sing for you) is the title of one of many songs he has dedicated to his deceased wife Pierrette. "Dounia Tabolo" – people die but life goes on, he sings in Kongo Magni. Despite the death of loved ones, the desire to live must remain strong, says Boubacar Traoré, thinking of his latest born grand-daughter. Music means nothing unless it is delivering a message, he insists. The new album reprises themes that have always meant a lot to him, allowing us to understand something of this secretive man. He speaks of the open wounds that fester in our lives: those of jealousy and wars, and the famines and epidemics that they bring. He sings of the bravery of Malian farmers, the lifeblood of the country; he reprises a track written by his older brother for the first anniversary of Malian independence; and sings a traditional song about the hope that children bring to save humanity. He evokes liberty, love and of course his cherished Pierrette. He accompanies his warm, full voice on the guitar, singing ballads in the polished  style he is known for.

His work is inspired by the Kassonké tradition of his native region. Is it the blues? You could call it that if you want to. "It's a word invented by the Americans that everyone knows," while the Bamadan terms, more appropriate to describe his music, are another story. Kar Kar has always kept a certain distance from the music business. Explaining his music or talking up his new album are things he'd rather do without. So when the silence stretches out for ever longer periods, you know it is time to take your leave. Any upcoming projects or concerts? "I don't know. They said that there are, but I haven't seen the schedule. If there are, great, if not, it's no big deal."

Boubacar Traoré  Kongo Magni (Marabi / Harmonia Mundi) 2005