In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been on a Tinariwen kick this month.
Emmaar is an album they released in 2014 and was recorded in a different desert than they one in which they live and sing about in Algeria. Emmaar was recorded in Joshua Tree, California in the spring of 2013. They were amid cacti, mountain flowers, horses, a different kind of heat, cowboy culture, and probably a bunch of hippy Californians. They were far from their homeland, which might’ve fueled the songs on Emmaar (The Heat on the Breeze) – as they are about the Tuareg people and their struggles and the peace of their home desert. One can’t help but wonder if Tinariwen saw Southwestern Native Americans as their own desert nomads and felt kinship with them.
After all, the opening track is “Toumast Tincha” (“The People Have Been Sold Out”), and the album’s first lyrics translate to “The ideals of the people have been sold out, my friends. Any peace imposed by force is bound to fail and give way to hatred.” Add sizzling guitars to that kind of piercing imagery and you get a powerful track. “Chaghaybou” is a song about a man who reflects the proud spirit of the Tuareg people.
“Arhegh Danagh” (“I Want to Tell”) is a great example of the “desert blues” Tinariwen play so well. It blends haunting guitar sounds and hand percussion with deep Delta blues lyrics like “Today’s love is like a mirage. The closer you get, the further away it goes. It’s been ten years since love left me, since it deserted my soul and no longer crosses my path…” I mean, Howlin’ Wolf sang stuff like that every night. “Timadrit in Sahara” (“Youth in Sahara”) is a call to action of the Tuareg kids to challenge the world. In reverse, “Imidiwan Ahi Sigdim” (“Friends, Hear me”) is a call to the band’s own generation to remember those who sacrificed before them but also to not get trapped in the past and old ways of thinking that destroyed so many.
“Tahalamot” is a beautiful song about a woman so beautiful that the singer puts on his best robes and musk and brings out his best saddle to ride to her like a nobleman. The droning bass and snappy guitar exude the man’s confidence and determination to see her again and win her heart. “Sendad Eghlalan” (“This Constant Lethargy”) is another call for the Tuareg men to snap out of being “engrossed and seduced by a world that’s forever advancing.” It’s interesting to note that women are included in this cry, as they’ve already figured out all this and are able to see through the illusions far easier than us stubborn dudes.
“Imidiwanin Ahi Tifhamam” (“Friends, Understand Me!”) is a song about love that has come and gone, but there are no regrets – only fond memories and lessons taken to heart. “Koud Edhaz Emin” (“Even if I Seem to Smile”) has the singer putting on a brave face as he watches so many of his brothers suffering from oppression, illusions they willfully embrace, and the pursuit of materialistic pleasures while they have far better things like Tuareg songs and music to enjoy. “Emajer” is delightfully playful, and the closer, “Aghregh Medin” (“I Call on Man”), a call for unity, is like a mantra.
It’s another beautiful record by Tinariwen, among their many others, and the blend of African and U.S. desert culture is a powerful incense you’ll want to float around you for a long while.
Keep your mind open.
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