2017

Born near Gao in northern Mali, Gobi certainly has an arresting voice. Her high-pitched, nasal timbre slices mercilessly through the trance-like grooves to cut right to the bone. The follow-up to her 2015 debut album Leila (reviewed #109) was recorded in Bamako with a splendidly tight trio comprising guitar, bass and calabash percussion, whose loping but insistent riffs evoke inevitable comparisons with Tinariwen and their tribe. Producer Christopher Nolan then reworked the tapes in the US, adding synths, dubby electronic beats and loops. On ‘Deidi Dadada’, the embellishments create an unfortunate desert-blues-goes-bubble-gum effect, although it's a rare blemish; for the most part the electronica smartly enhances the spirit of the original Malian grooves. At its best, the result is a pleasingly thunderous sound that merits comparison with Songhoy Blues' recent album Résistance. Yet, slashing through the thunder like a fork of lightning, Gobi's sharp voice is ultimately exposed as a limited instrument. After the first three or four tracks, its piercing quality no longer sounds potent but begins to grate – particularly when it's multi-tracked.

The brilliant final track, ‘Mi Manda’, is actually the album's tour de force, but by then it's almost too late. If she could develop a little shading and nuance, Leila Gobi might be a world-beater. As it is, she's a one-trick pony.