Tiken Jah Fakoly‘s new album L’Africain

The reggae star with a message

Paris 

27/09/2007 - 

Tiken Jah Fakoly is finished with Jamaica! The Ivorian reggae star, currently living in exile in Bamako, recorded his new album, L’Africain, “at home” in the Malian capital. And he called in a couple of talented singers, Magyd Cherfi (from the group Zebda) and Mike (from Sinsémilia), to help him with writing songs in French.

RFI Musique: Why did you decide to get other songwriters involved in penning lyrics for your album this time round?
Tiken Jah Fakoly: That was very much a decision I made on my own. No-one else forced me into doing it or put any kind of pressure on me in any way. The thing is, I can be very inspired when it comes to writing songs in Bambara, Dioula or Malinke, but French is another matter because it’s not my mother tongue. This time round, I really wanted to write a song about female circumcision and a song about the war in Iraq. What happened was I wrote the chorus and a couple of verses. Then I called Magyd (Cherfi) and asked him whether I could send him what I’d done by e-mail so he could take a look at it. I told him that if he had any ideas for improving or changing anything about the song I’d like him to go ahead and make those changes. When Magyd sent his version back I sat down and analysed it with a few close friends. If we thought some of Magyd’s lines were better, we kept them in place of my own. It was very much a collective process with everyone involved. The most important thing for me is getting my message heard by the greatest number of people possible. And if that means sharing my success and my money with other people to get that message across, that’s OK with me!

Were the final versions of the songs very different from the rough drafts you made yourself?
No, not necessarily. On my last album I wrote Plus rien ne m’étonne (Nothing surprises me any more) which had pretty hard-hitting lyrics. I think that in the future, once I’ve mastered the art of rewriting songs, I’ll be capable of working on my own. When I originally launched my music career, I didn’t know how to write my own songs at all. Writing is still something very new for me, you know. The way I used to work was I’d have everything ready in my head and I’d just go into the studio and sing. But now I’ve reached the stage where I can’t really do that any more because I’d risk making everyone else late. These days, I can’t just come out and say things that I know I could have worded better if I’d tried.

On a song like Ouvrez les frontières (Open the borders), don’t you think you’re inciting young people from Africa to embark upon a dangerous voyage of emigration?
It’s not about opening the doors and urging everyone to go rushing in! The thing is, Africa needs its children if it wants to build a future for itself. No, what I’m talking about in a song like Ouvrez les frontières is the basic injustice of keeping the doors locked. If someone from the West suddenly decides he fancies going to Bamako, he can simply go along to the embassy, get a visa and jump on a plane the next day. But it doesn’t work that way for us Africans trying to head in the other direction. And I think that’s completely unjust.
There are three songs on the new album which follow on from one another and are linked thematically: Ouvrez les frontières, Où aller où? and Africain à Paris (an adaptation of Sting’s hit Englishman In New York). On Où aller où I try and explain the facts to my African brothers. I spell out all the suffering and misery experienced by those who crossed deserts and oceans to get to the West. Then when they get there – and that’s something I deal with on Africain à Paris – they realise it’s not heaven on earth. They end up sleeping five or six to a room and they’re treated like slaves. They’re forced to live without any kind of legal papers so they can be exploited more easily, because let’s not forget this is a labour force Europe needs right now. As far as I’m concerned, I think it’s very important not to lie to young people in Africa or foster their illusions – but it’s equally important to help them stand up for their rights!

In your eyes, is being a singer and musician necessarily an act of social and political commitment?
You know, people are always asking me why I don’t do love songs. And I say that day will probably come, but right now I can’t force my inspiration. African reggae, and I mean that in the widest possible sense of the term, deserves its love songs, but there are other priorities right now. My own aim right now is to get across a different kind of message – I want to raise people’s consciousness and stress the need for information and education. What we need right now is justice, equality and a genuine fight against corruption. The problem is that our spokespeople, the heads of state supposed to be representing us aren’t necessarily doing their job.

Your new album was made in Bamako, where you’re currently living in exile. Would you say that changing your working methods ultimately changed the result?
I’d say the overall result was different this time round because I recorded with the band that plays with me live on stage. And, as the saying goes, you’re always more comfortable ‘at home’ than anywhere else! When you go off to record in Jamaica and Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare come into the studio with all their honours and awards, sometimes they carry a bit too much weight and they can end up imposing their ideas. There’s a bassline on Où veux-tu que j’aille, a track on my album Coup de gueule, that in retrospect I’ve very much come to regret. The one I had on my original demo tapes actually suited me much better. When we were working together in the studio, I tried to oppose things, but the problem was my artistic director and the album’s producer were against me. And I wasn’t really brought up to deal with that sort of conflict. I have to admit, though, these days I’ve got a bit more experience behind me and I’m generally more comfortable with that kind of thing. I remember the first time I went into the studio, I didn’t sleep a wink the night before and that was a big problem because I had to be on form the next day! These days, I don’t lose sleep over going into the studio.

L’Africain ends with Ma Côte d’Ivoire (My Ivory Coast), a duet with your compatriot Beta Simon. The song appears to be a symbolic call for reconciliation between north and south. Do you think there’s any chance of you going home any time soon?
There’s been war in my homeland for five years now. And the result is that all Ivory Coast’s inhabitants have got poorer and living conditions have greatly deteriorated. Ivorians are worn out now and I think they want to move towards a peaceful resolution. You know, when you’re sick and someone offers you a remedy, you try it. I think the agreement signed by Laurent Gbagbo and Guillaume Soro deserves to be tried. If Gbagbo and Soro are both prepared to respect that agreement, maybe we’ll get there in the end. I’ve decided to lay my own small stone towards reconciliation in Ivory Coast. I’m currently trying to organise a concert there and if we can just get a piece of paper signed by Gbagbo and Soro guaranteeing security for that concert, then I’ll be heading off there soon.

Tiken Jah Fakoly L'africain (Barclay/Universal) 2007
In concert at L’Olympia, in Paris, on 15 October 2007. Currently on tour in France

Bertrand  Lavaine

Translation : Julie  Street