L’Intégrale

The story of the four-piece band Faham begins with one of the murkier episodes in 20th century European history. Uprooted as children from the Indian Ocean islands and French département of Réunion in the 60s, under the bizarre policy of bringing up the numbers in French villages, they grew up far from home on the remote fringes of France’s Massif Central.

The two discs which make up this anthology, 1998’s Mi Éme a Ou and 2003’s Doub Kiltir are therefore testaments to the exile experience, rendered in evocative French Creole.

Musically, the two albums here take much of their cue from Réunion’s slave-rooted version of the blues, maloya. A style long associated with radical politics, maloya kept authorities sufficiently wary, and was outlawed for decades. In line with tradition, many of the tracks are accompanied by not much more than skeletal percussion, leaving the focus on vocals that see-saw and switch time between austere lead and rich, impassioned harmony.

At their most upbeat, the songs ring with that briny effervescence that much African-rooted island music seems to share, while the quartet’s stark edges are softened on the lilting standout track ‘La Rivière Tanier’. Not unsurprisingly, however, given the troubled upbringing of these musicians, there’s always a gravity of tone here that lingers, staying with you long after the voices fade.