Metamorphic rock

Sahara’s rebel rock nomads find an oasis in Hackney. By David Hutcheon.

“AG MOSSA APPEARS TO DO AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE BUT MAKES EVERY FLICKER OF LIFE COUNT.”

The first time MOJO met Tamikrest – at their compound in Kidal, northern Mali – we parted with their leader, Ousmane Ag Mossa, insisting we keep an ear out for recordings they had made with some Americans. But this was 2009, and the desert blues bands who would follow Tinariwen onto European stages had yet to apply for their first visas; nor, presumably, had the young Tuareg guitarist considered that one day he would be playing London’s hipster central, where the only other person in the room with a turban would be a local Sikh. The trio of desert-dwellers – Ag Mossa is joined by long-time colleagues Cheikh Ag Tiglia on bass and Aghaly Ag Mohamedine on djembe – wear traditional robes and heavy workboots, while their two European compadres – lead guitarist Paul Salvagnac, part of the group since 2013’s Chatma, and drummer Nicolas Grupp, who joined for their fourth album, this year’s Kidal – bring a leather-jacket-and-jeans attitude. Romance plus reality, rebel chic hand in hand with genuine rebellion. It’s as if one part of the band take responsibility for the message, while the others bring an awareness of how to shape it into something with wider appeal. In which case, it’s a victory on points to the outsiders tonight, as only one It takes Tuareg to tango: (main) Tamikrest’s Ousmane Ag Mossa searching for the deep lost chord; (bottom left, from left) Nicolas Grupp, Ag Mossa, Aghaly Ag Mohamedine, Cheikh Ag Tiglia; (bottom right) Paul Salvagnac. song, Aratane n’Adagh, is introduced with an explanation– in English, French and Tamashek – of the lyrics (“a song about the children of the Sahara”) but, lordy, do Tamikrest know how to both rock and roll. By the second song, Outamachek, the guitars have become heavier than Tinariwen would ever contemplate; Fassous Tarahnet concludes with wild guitar extemporisations and Entwistle-like bass runs (Ag Tiglia has paid extra to have five multicoloured bass strings, and he’s not going to let this go unnoticed); and War Tila Eridaran tips its hat to both Isaac Hayes and metal by opening with wah wah pedal and hi-hat working overtime and closing with uncompromising chords. The star of the show, however, is Ag Mossa, whose shtick may be to appear to do as little as possible but make every flicker of life count. His world-weary visage is reminiscent of Marley, the faces he throws searching for that deep lost chord bring Santana to mind. Or perhaps it’s just his curly hair and half-hearted beard. Somehow, though, as when Itous takes a diversion into dub, or when Imanin Bas Zihoun reveals itself as a bluegrass-leaning post-punk disco hoedown, otherwise glib comparisons to such great countercultural spirits actually bear their weight. But mostly, Ag Mossa’s expression suggests bewilderment that he has wound up on-stage wherever he is. It must be easy finding space

to be alone with your thoughts in the Sahara, but the beauty of Tamikrest’s desert blues means he also seems able to manage it in a crowded cafe in Hackney.