Noura Mint Seymali is possessed of the most extraordinary voice; its very fabric is electrifying, its reach, power and depth cut from an entirely different cloth to the rest of us. Maybe it’s a cloth of gold. And then there is her axe-hero husband Jeich Ould Chighaly’s shapeshifting, inventive guitar work, its distorted fizz and fuzz redolent of Seventies Glam and heavy rock melded into Mauritanian desert blues – and just as addictive. The guitar lines twist, smoulder, spark and melt like solder, with the traditional andine acoustic harp that Noura Mint plays and uses to define her music’s borders. They are backed up by a rhythm section of bassist Ousmane Touré and American-born Matthew Tinari on drums.
Her third album, and her first in a decade, out on Glitterbeat, opens with two versions of a song called “Bidayett Lehjibb”, one with the sound of the andine, the other a searing emanation of Saharan blues rock. Further in, “Tassirit” is a strikingly angular, cubist melange of rhythm and riffery, while “El Vbais” is a marvellous solo stretch of Jeich Ould Chighaly’s guitar shapeshifting through several veils of desert blues. “Ch’tib (Naha)” is a contemplative prayer from the deep of the night - “While all the world lay deep in sleep. Alone, I wept to my Lord...” and “Hagala Geyeul” a plea for leave and friendship."
Seymali comes from a high musical lineage – her father was a composer and scholar, her stepmother, Dimi Mint Abba, a famous singer. Seymali herself is a practising griot – poet, singer, musician, historian, custodian – and a potent, shaping spirit of Mauritania’s Moorish griot traditions in the 21st century.
The last time I saw her perform was in an art deco cinema in Rabat, and there were just a few people there, as part of a Moroccan music-industry, festival called Visa For Music. And while this is her first album since 20916, there are no plans in place for any UK dates, which means, for now, all we have are the recordings. Treasure them, for they are few.
