Thursday, October 31, 2024
Mdou Moctar: Niger's desert rock resistance
Mdou Moctar has had a great year, with a new album and worldwide tour positioning him as a new breed of African guitar hero… but he’s not alone. Bombino and Etran de l’Aïr are two other electric guitar-heavy bands who are establishing Niger as the capital of ‘desert rock’
It’s been a tumultuous year in Niger. Against the backdrop of a ‘neo-cold war’ competition for Niger’s considerable uranium resources, a military coup took place in July 2023. This was followed by international sanctions and a concomitant increase in unemployment, inflation and poverty in what was already one of the world’s poorest nations, one that’s also suffering from the effects of climate change.
Yet Niger’s period of political and economic tumult has been a fruitful time for the country’s musicians. Three guitar bands from Niger – Etran de l’Aïr, Bombino and Mdou Moctar – all released critically acclaimed albums in 2024 and embarked on international tours across North America and Europe. The fact that all three bands are from Niger’s often-oppressed Touareg minority and that they have arguably had a more prominent year than the more dominant Mali-based Touareg bands is also notable.
Indeed, for Niger’s musicians, the dance between popularity abroad and censorship at home, Islamist extremism and rock-influenced guitar riffs is a delicate one. In August, Moctar released a live concert video (available on YouTube), which was filmed at the historic Palace of the Sultan in Agadez (part of a UNESCO World Heritage Site). “We asked the people to come, and they did,” says Moctar about the concert, which was attended by dozens of tribesmen, many on camels, and locals. “It was a special moment – to be playing at such a symbolic place – so important politically and historically. It felt like we were honouring our ancestors.”
A deeply symbolic place, Agadez dates back to the 15th century. It became an important centre for trans-Saharan trade and the de facto Touareg capital. It was also an important location in the Touareg Rebellion of the 1990s in central and northern Niger. Mdou Moctar’s video is an indication that the dance – and the struggle – continue despite all odds.
And with Moctar’s mesmeric music echoing into the surrounding dunes, it’s also an exercise in transcending Niger’s current situation. For Moctar and many of his rapt listeners, music is a sacred act that, he says, “takes me to the next level.” His latest album, Funeral for Justice, is a cri du cœur not only for the suffering of his people but for the state of the world.
After a successful European tour and on the cusp of a North American one, I speak to Moctar during a brief break in Niamey. He tells me that the inspiration for Funeral for Justice came from “what is going on around the world. The world is going super crazy. There is no justice. People are being manipulated by social media, and terrible things are happening – because no one knows the truth.” Whether it’s in Ukraine, Gaza or Africa, he says, “the strong are trying to hurt the weak, and the weak and vulnerable have no support.”
Moctar does not mince his words. ‘Modern Slaves’, from his new album, begins as a bluesy lament before becoming a rhythmic incantation. The 40-year-old Moctar sings of the plight of young African migrants: ‘Oh world, why be so selective about human beings? / My people are crying while you laugh / All you do is watch / All of our resources have been looted / Youth in pursuit of resources, weeping in dismay / In the ocean’s depths, they perish, while you watch / All you do is watch.’
‘Oh, France’ is written like the poisoned pen letter of a lover betrayed, as he sticks it to the former colonial power that still plays a big role in regional politics (and resource extraction), which, Moctar contends, is often to the detriment of his people. With wailing guitars punctuating Niger’s neo-colonial fate, he sings: ‘France’s actions are frequently veiled in cruelty / We are better off without its turbulent relation / It’s high time we grasp its endless lethal games it plays / La France, we don’t approve.’
But it’s the title-track, an angry anthem about corrupt African leaders, that really packs a punch. In a furious Touareg quasi-punk idiom, he sings: ‘Dear African leaders, hear my burning question / Why does your ear only heed France and America? / They misled you into giving up your lands / They delightfully watch you in your fraternal feud / They possess the power to help out but chose not to / Why is that? When your rights are trodden upon / …Occupiers are carving up your lands while you watch / Gallantly marching all over your resources.’
During our chat – strictly scheduled around the devout Muslim’s prayer times – Moctar tells me that the album was also inspired by the heartbreaking scenes he witnessed in Tchintabaraden, the village he grew up in, following attacks by Boko Haram. “I lost three brothers there who tried to protest [against the extremist group],” he tells me. “Every kid asked me, ‘Where is my dad?’ They were too young to understand that they’d been killed.
So, everyone said ‘they are travelling.’ But I couldn’t answer them. I spent all day crying.”
The album is full of love for his homeland as much as fury at its oppressors. ‘Imouhar’ is a paean to Touareg pride and a call for the younger generation to keep the culture alive, ‘Imaghram’ is a catchy tune about Touareg unity, while ‘Tchinta’ is an almost mystical ode to the beauty of the Sahel with traditional chants offset by jangly guitars and trance-inducing percussion. ‘Takoba’ feels like a sultry love song, but the lyrics are about overcoming the devil. When I ask Moctar what inspired the song, he launches into a lecture about the dangers of pre-marital sex. “The feeling of love comes from the devil,” he tells me. “If you love someone, you can’t control yourself. You are hypnotised by love.” Intriguingly, Moctar uses the same language when I ask about his first love – music.
Moctar, from a religious family where no one plays music, attended his first concert when he was 15 years old. It was an open-air performance by a collective known as Desert Rebel in Arlit, a rough and tumble mining town outside of Agadez, where his family moved when he was a boy. He was smitten. “The music hypnotised me,” he says, and afterwards, he spent hours alone in his room practising with a DIY guitar he fashioned using bicycle cables as strings. He was inspired by the band’s lead singer Abdallah Oumbadougou, one of the founders of the ishumar (named after the French word chomeur, unemployed) genre of the Saharan desert blues – a mix of rock, Touareg and Malian music.
The genre was born from post-colonial turmoil when traditional Touareg lands were split between the six new countries of Mali, Algeria, Niger, Libya, Burkina Faso and Chad – countries where the Touareg became disenfranchised and often unemployed minorities. The ensuing decades brought ongoing challenges with desertification, rebellions and conflicts. Then, in the 70s, many young Touareg men were recruited by Gaddafi for military training camps in Libya, where they were exposed to revolutionary ideas, Pan-Africanism and music.
Moctar himself travelled to Libya and worked odd jobs, meeting many of the desert blues masters along the way. He developed his own style of psychedelic electric Touareg guitar and soon became a local celebrity, travelling to Nigeria in 2008 to record his first album, Anar, which featured AutoTuned vocals and digital drums. The album was shared informally as mp3s through West Africa’s peer-to-peer mobile phone networks. ‘Tahoultine’, one of the album’s highlights, was later featured on Sahel Sounds’ compilation Music from Saharan Cellphones (2011).
Gradually, Moctar became aware of international interest in his music, especially when he received a phone call from Christopher Kirkley of Sahel Sounds, as he recounted in an interview with Occii (Amsterdam’s Independent Cultural Centre and venue for alternative and independent music): “It was a weird conversation, as I thought my cousin was pulling a joke on me, so I hung up.” But Kirkley was persistent. “He came to visit me in my village and also sent me a left-handed guitar, which is very hard to find in Niger. This guitar has crossed several African countries to arrive in my hands; I have been playing it ever since!”
He released his first international album, Afelan, in 2013 – a compilation of raw, improvisational studio sessions recorded live in Tchintabaraden, Niger and produced by Kirkley. After signing with Matador Records, a US label best known for working with indie rock artists such as Yo La Tengo, Pavement and Kurt Vile, he released his first album with a studio band, 2019’s Ilana (The Creator). This was when US musician Mikey Coltun, who Moctar had met at a performance in NYC, joined the band. A bassist coming out of Washington DC’s noise and punk rock scene, Coltun produced Ilana and has become an integral member of the group. Mdou Moctar became a band rather than just one musician, and they followed up that album with Afrique Victime (2021) and Funeral for Justice.
Yet Moctar is not just a guitar hero in Niger; he’s also a burgeoning film star. He appeared in the short film I Sing the Desert Electric in 2013 and starred in the 2015 film Akounak Tedalat Taha Tazoughai (Rain the Colour of Blue with a Little Red in It). The latter, based on Moctar’s life story, is part Purple Rain, part The Harder They Come, and is the first-ever feature made in the Tamasheq language.
Moctar sees himself as a musical ambassador who can bring cultures together and says he’s fighting for “everyone’s struggle.” He continues: “I want to send a message to the whole world. When I feel someone is hurt by injustice, I have to share their struggle with the world.”
He says that he reconciles his faith with his career by putting prayer ahead of performance – “When it’s time for me to pray, I have to stop everything and pray even if I’m in the middle of a concert” – and by practising charity. “The money from my music,” he tells me, “I use it to build wells in the bush – and I buy food for the poor. I kill a camel to share meat with the poor. My music helps my community as well.”
When asked what he thinks of clerics who say music is ‘un-Islamic,’ he replies: “The most important thing is to be kind and help people. If you sing, what you say is important. You shouldn’t encourage crime or sex or drinking, but songs about education, about loving each other – that is not haram.”
I am reminded of an interview with the band Tal National – also very popular in their home country of Niger and internationally, about how they dealt with growing religious extremism. They explained that a government agent had been sent to spy on them and make sure they weren’t being too licentious in their performances and that drinking and mingling between the sexes was under control. “We could tell who the guy was straight away,” they told me, “But he ended up becoming our biggest fan – even dancing at our concerts.”
This anecdote, as well as Moctar’s life story, sum up the complex relationship between music and religion in Niger. Moctar explains that many young people use music as a way to support their families and that it’s also a way to revive the flagging cultural tourism sector – suffering post-coup. Still, there are many challenges for musicians in Niger.
As he told Occii, “Niger is a complicated country with various ethnic groups, but only one in power (the Zarma ethnic group). Niger is a closed country where certain ethnic groups are blocked out, on a political and on a cultural level. In some regions, I might be regarded as ‘famous,’ but my music is never shown on television, while every second of music on television, the band Tal National is shown. Even Bombino is hardly ever broadcasted, five minutes in a year would already be [too] much, while he has become quite famous all over the world, more than in his own country.”
Bombino tells me on a phone interview from Europe, where he is currently on tour, that he isn’t bothered too much about his music being broadcast in Niger as he’s mostly on the road – and produces many of his albums while travelling. That said, he notes that “Things aren’t as bad for the Touareg in Niger as in neighbouring countries. “It’s still very difficult – people see us as strangers in our own land. Those who profit from the regime have become the majority in the country. But things are worse in Mali, Algeria and Libya. Even though they are richer countries than Niger, Niger is more integrated. There are no Touaregs in the army in Algeria, for example,” he notes. “In Niger, there are Touareg officers.”
As with Moctar, Bombino’s songs encourage Touareg unity, with lyrics like ‘Let’s stand together / Let’s unite / We must save our common heritage / We must protect our water / We must protect our trees / All together we must unite in the face of climate change / We must all live together in harmony.’
Even though Bombino says that the situation was not easy before the coup for Niger’s musicians and certainly difficult now – it remains an “important vehicle to talk about the issues facing the people today. It has an important role to play.”
I suggest to Bombino that the guitar has become a real Touareg instrument now, that musicians from the region have made it their own, and he agrees: “Yes, 90% of young people play guitars now. It’s become a symbol of freedom.”
L’Etran de l’Aïr, who have just released their album, 100% Sahara Guitar, told me at the Vancouver Folk Festival that in addition to being a vehicle for stories about their people, their music “is a way of sharing our culture with the West.” After their first album – essentially recorded with a single mic – and their relatively low-tech second effort – this is their first studio album. Recorded in LA with multiple guitars and multi-layered percussion, it is an exciting milestone for them and a possible gateway to “crossover” success in the US market.
When the coup that deposed President Mohamed Bazoum happened last July, Moctar was in the middle of a US tour, an experience that he tells me he found very difficult, being so far from home as his homeland imploded. “I’m scared to play in certain places in Niger now,” he confides, “because I didn’t support the coup. I don’t support the military. Now their supporters send me threatening messages on social media.”
Since the military coup and subsequent international sanctions, inflation has increased dramatically, and life is even harder for the people of Niger. “It’s worse now than before,” Moctar tells me, “In every way. But I can’t talk about it in more detail. It’s too dangerous.” And on that note, it’s time for another prayer, and the interview is over.
+ Mdou Moctar continue their worldwide tour with European tour dates from November 30; Tears of Injustice will be released by Matador Records on February 28, 2025. Bombino also has tour dates in Spain and France in November
This article originally appeared in the December 2024 issue of Songlines. Never miss an issue – subscribe today