OUMOU SANGARE
The truth-telling Malian superstar talks new sounds, polygamy and how Africa Express unites.
Not for nothing has Oumou Sangaré been called the most famous Malian woman alive. At home in the country’s capital Bamako she can’t walk down the street without being mobbed (“I wouldn’t even dare”). She was first propelled to stardom by her 1989 debut, the first of five LPs to voice her personal and political concerns within the musical traditions of the Wassoulou region. Her new album, Mogoya, is a funky, international dancefloor-reformatting of those traditions, while her lyrics continue to address the treatment and position of women. In the context of Mali’s oppressively patriarchal society, the revolutionary potential of singing about forced marriage, polygamy and child poverty has hardly waned since the 2012 conflict in Northern Mali and subsequent coup in Bamako, where Sangaré runs several businesses. Sangaré’s commanding stage presence – formidable vocal power and sky-high hair – belies the warmth and sweetness of the woman who arrives backstage in London in Ugg boots, beaming while proffering fried chicken and pistachio nuts. Sangaré sings in Bambara and speaks to MOJO in French via her translator, Charlene. Is there a word for feminism in Bambara? ““No,” she says firmly. To which Charlene adds, “It’s just ‘Oumou’.”
You have a new record label and new producers (Parisian outfit Albert). Were you looking for a new sound?
Yes. It’s really important because African youth needs modern sounds. They want to dance, they want to hear my voice in clubs. And I’m curious as well to find out what is the right middle ground between traditional and new sounds. I’ve been really surprised by fans’ reactions to the new songs in Mali. They say congratulations to me. Everyone is excited and happy.
What is an Oumou concert experience like in Mali?
Very different to in the UK or in France because when I sing for my fans in Mali everyone reacts straightaway because they understand what I’m saying. In Europe people wait, it’s different. They want to understand the rhythms first.
Tony Allen provides the rhythms on Yere Faga (‘Suicide’).
Tony Allen is a brother to me. He’s always wanted us to do something together musically. It is a dark subject but that’s the point, I don’t want it to stay in the dark. We need to talk about suicide. People get to that stage because they don’t talk about it. There isn’t such a thing as therapy in Mali. It’s through music that we work through problems. Singers are like therapists.
Kamelemba (‘The Womaniser’) features the sound of you laughing – what about?
I’m not laughing at the men (smiles)… It’s a strong message, but said in a joyous atmosphere. I think I’m a good role model for young girls, I’m trying to advise them that they should be careful.
Mogoya (‘People Today’) is about people’s insincerity. Outspoken women often come in for criticism, especially online. Has that been your experience?
Yes, of course. Online, offline. But I’m stronger than this. There has been so much criticism of me because I’m the first woman in Mali to speak out
against polygamy. Especially when polygamy is done badly… when a man marries four women and they live in the same house under bad conditions. When you’re Muslim you have the right to marry up to four women but if you do it you have to do it with respect.
Do we sometimes miss the humour or irony in your songs?
Everything I say is said in a good mood. Even if [the subject] is sometimes dark, like Kamelemba. I’m not that political. (Long laugh) I’m also singing about love and the news. Also, Mali is a country with an oral tradition. I’m taking advantage of this to educate people though my voice.
Can you remember when you first discovered that voice?
I was born into an artistic family so I was practising my singing every day. My first job singing was with Djoliba Percussion in 1986. It was me and three griot singers. We toured a lot, to Guadalupe and to France, and everywhere I sang the audience asked me back, every time. It was at this very moment I got self-conscious about my voice. I thought, Why are they asking me and not someone else? I realised that I must have something.
Africa Express has done much to raise the profile of African artists in Europe. Does it help promote equality too?
I’ve done Africa Express many times, in Paris, in London. Damon Albarn and the European artists lead when it happens in Europe but in Africa, the African artists lead the show, so the artists are equal. When people see my gigs they will understand that music is not racist. The musicians and the audience are black and white, male and female, from all over the world. If politicians could be like musicians the world would be more united.
Since your last record there has been much political upheaval in Mali. Does Bamako feel safe?
Yes, it’s safe. I’ve not played in the North but in Bamako, even during a curfew I’ve organised a show, a big show. People from the military and the UN came to protect the hotel. It had been such a long time since anyone had done a show, because it was forbidden. I just said, “No, we’re going to do it anyway.” (In English) Everyone say, “Oumou, she’s crazy.”
Can you tell us something you’ve never told an interviewer before?
I’ve started a music and cultural festival in Wassoulou this year, and the second edition will be at the start of next year. I’m building a new hotel there with 41 round houses. These are typical of Wassoulou and this will be the first hotel there. I want to encourage people to visit. Jenny Bulley