Jamm

Albums by Cheikh Lô are rare enough to make them seem like events rather than mere record releases and Jamm – his fourth in 15 years – is a characteristically lovely set full of subtle rhythms and beguiling melodies. Now in his early 50s, this feels like a more mature, mellow Cheikh Lô than we’ve been accustomed to and at times – particularly on the tracks ‘Ne Parti Pas’ and ‘Seyni’ – it sounds like he’s auditioning for a gig with Orchestra Baobab. Which, of course, is nothing but a compliment, as is the suggestion that on the lovely, lullaby-like ‘Folly Cagni’ he sounds like Baaba Maal at his gentlest (such as ‘Cherie’ on Maal’s Nomad Soul album). If there is one criticism it’s that Jamm lacks that one, jump-the-broomstick track that suddenly rocks out and changes the record’s pace in the style of, for example, the clattering, masterful title-track of 2005’s Lamp Fall. Yet it’s a small criticism, for there are so many lovely moments in these ten songs that such a track might have even spoilt the album’s cohesion. Above all, Lô’s voice has surely never sounded better and the scat singing that comes in about a minute and a half into the hypnotic opener ‘Conia’ makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Just as impressive is his singing on ‘Warico’, an old song by Amadou Balaké from the 1970s, where Lô’s words (all in Wolof, of course) joyously tumble over each other in that wonderful rasping falsetto that is one of his trademarks. Pee Wee Ellis adds tenor sax, most notably an outstanding solo on ‘Bourama’, while Cheikh Tidiane Tall plays what can only be described as Afro-surf guitar on the Dakar beach party that is Lô’s version of the old Bembeya Jazz classic, ‘Il N’est Jamais Trop Tard’.