Tiken Jah Fakoly: “In Africa, I can’t perform as much as I’d like. Sponsors are afraid of my image”

Tall and burly, a tornado on stage, the ever-charismatic singer Tiken Jah Fakoly has never taken the easy road to stardom. He admits his 16th and latest album, Acoustic, was a gamble. Yet it offers a refreshing look at Tiken’s artistry, stripping away layers of heavy bass and skank rhythms to reveal an authentic sound grounded in instruments like the kora, balafon and ngoni, coupled with voices he grew up with. For the 56-year-old, the album is more than music; it’s a return to his roots, an ode to his ancestors while maintaining his perennial call for change across the continent, for pan-African social and political justice.

With Acoustic, Tiken revisits the songs that defined his career, such as ‘Plus Rien Ne M’Étonne’ and ‘Les Martyrs’. But the album pulses with traditional West African sounds that reconnect listeners to his frontier hometown of Odienné in the Ivory Coast and his father’s Maninka heritage. In a long conversation, Tiken explains to me, “I grew up surrounded by the Yagba music of Guinea and Mali. I’ve always wanted to record something unplugged like this, but I hesitated. Would reggae fans think I was straying too far from their paragons?” The overwhelmingly positive reception from these fans – sold-out shows across his European tour – has allayed such doubts.

To Tiken, the acoustic sound isn’t merely an aesthetic choice; it’s a homage to his roots. His ancestors were griots, storytellers and blacksmiths in the Mandinka community straddling several West African frontiers. They forged not just tools but also cultural traditions that resonate throughout the album. His forebear, Fakoly Doumbia, was a warrior who fought alongside emperor Sundiata Keita in the 13th century, heralding the beginning of the Mande empire – “he was one of the powerful lieutenants, he was the one who made the weapons,” says Tiken about Fakoly Doumbia. For Tiken, his music is an extension of this lineage, seeing himself as a modern-day griot using reggae to fight for justice. “Reggae has a rhythm that speaks to the people. When you’re protesting, there’s a heartbeat, a raw energy, like the percussive pounding of metal in a forge,” he says, alluding to his childhood memories of watching metallic blacksmiths beating out rhythms in Odienné.

For Tiken, reggae’s connection to struggle and resilience echoes the African experience of colonialism, neo-colonialism and internal strife. Influenced by Bob Marley, he noted the icon’s wish to be buried in Ethiopia and the throwing of the Jamaican’s dreadlocks into the Congo River as part of his African heritage. It reinforces the genre’s cross-Atlantic connections. Tiken’s admiration runs deep. “Bob Marley was a prophet. He’s recognised worldwide, even in places where people barely know his music. Marley deserves to be remembered as a saint. We have bank holidays for all kinds of saints, why not one for him?”

Tiken’s pan-African philosophy is rooted in his forced exile to Mali in 2002. He became a refugee, one among the 45 million-plus Africans currently displaced by political turmoil. When not on tour, Tiken continues to split his time between Paris, his adopted home in Bamako, and his family farm 45km from the Malian capital, where he finds solace and inspiration. “In Siby, I’m not Tiken Jah Fakoly; I’m just Moussa Doumbia,” he says, referring to his birth name – the name Tiken is a Ghanaian derivative of the Dioula word tiany (little boy), which his father used to call him. “I’m treated like an ordinary person. I talk to everyone, and they don’t ask for selfies. It’s real life.” It’s this connection to the land, the animals he collects (sheep, ostriches, gazelles, chickens), and the people of Africa that inform his music.

But fame has also built global bridges. One of the defining characteristics of Acoustic is the line-up of heralded collaborators Tiken invited for the album. He chose to work with artists like Bernard Lavilliers, Chico César, Tiggs da Author and Horace Andy, musicians who share his values and commitment to the cause – without a price tag. The reggae man is outspoken against the commercialisation of musical ‘featuring.’ “Some ask for thousands of Euros just to sing a verse,” Tiken remarks, noting how he values genuine partnerships over lucrative ones. “Collaborations should be about mutual respect, about pleasing the fans, not about the money. I chose like-minded people to share my space on this album.”

The collaborations on Acoustic reflect Tiken’s vision of a socially aware reggae that can resonate with people from Dakar to Kingston. His adaptation of Sting’s ‘Englishman in New York’, entitled ‘Africain à Paris’, with Horace Andy, is a nod to the African diaspora’s resilience and longing for acceptance abroad. This song – and others, like ‘Ouvrez les Frontières’, which calls for open borders and features French artist -M- – speak to the album’s broader message: Africa’s shared struggle and hope for unity that goes beyond national lines.

Yet, Tiken’s activism has come at a price. His outspokenness against corruption and authoritarianism has led to bans and forced cancellations. “I was banned from performing in Senegal from 2007 to 2010,” says Fakoly. “In 2015, I went to a concert in Congo Kinshasa. I was blocked at the airport. We were put back on the plane that brought us from Brussels with a note telling the Belgian police that we are terrorists.” Despite his popularity, Tiken laments that political powers in Africa often stifle his message by pressuring organisers and sponsors to avoid hosting his concerts. “In Africa, I can’t perform as much as I’d like. Sponsors are afraid of my image,” Fakoly shares, admitting that his outspoken lyrics have made him a difficult artist for many African promoters to support.

Reggae in Africa, however, is experiencing a revival, and some argue that it owes much to the Ivorian’s work. In the Ivory Coast, Mali, Senegal and beyond, young artists have taken up reggae as a means of expression, mirroring Tiken’s passion and message in their own music. “We’ll never outdo Jamaica for its reggae, but we know that they made reggae with Africa in the mix. Now it’s time to integrate more of our traditional polyrhythmic sounds into it.” This belief is reflected in Acoustic, where the brass and electric bass all but disappear, creating a reggae that’s as much rooted in West Africa as it is inspired by Marley’s Jamaica.

Despite an intense live schedule for his ongoing two-year global tour, Tiken is already thinking ahead to his next project. Writing is underway for a new album, with recording kickstarting in 2026. Though he’s yet to settle on a theme, he is certain of one thing: his music will continue to be a vehicle for social change. “The world is suffering, and people aren’t fighting as hard as they once did,” he complains. “In Africa, we fought for multi-party systems; we fought for freedom, we were fighting for economic solidarity. Now, people seem to have given up, and I want my music to wake them up, remind them that the struggle is far from over.”

The militant artist sees hope in the transition in Senegal, where engaged politicians were swept into office this year. “Street protests there, allied to the popular vote, broke dissidents out of prison and into the Presidential Palace,” he says, referring to the election of president Bassirou Diomaye Faye and prime minister Ousmane Sonko. “It’s the first time since Kwame Nkrumah won Ghana’s first elections in the 50s that such a scenario occurred. And it can inspire others on the continent.”

The message behind Tiken’s work is clear: reggae, as he sees it, is not just music, it’s a call to action. On Acoustic, he shows that this call doesn’t need amplified bass or flashy beats – it can be quiet, grounded and still make waves. As long as there is injustice, Tiken will continue to sing.

“Reggae is the voice of the people,” he says firmly. “It’s my duty to keep that voice alive.”

+ Acoustic was reviewed in May 2024 (#197); Tiken Jah Fakoly is playing London’s KOKO on January 31