It’s her voice that always stuns first-time listeners. High-pitched yet mellifluous, it wails and swoons from note to note, arriving each time with an exclamation point that keeps a song on course until it ends with another musical punctuation. Janis Joplin had a similar kind of musical charisma — more intense than Arby’s but in the same general ballpark. Where Joplin is the embodiment of ’60s rock ‘n’ roll, Arby is the face of modern West African music — music that’s rooted in traditions of the continent but also recognizes its connections with the West. Electric guitars are big in Arby’s musical universe. So is the pentatonic scale that entered into blues music via slaves from Arby’s native Mali and other West African countries. There’s something both familiar and otherworldly about Arby’s music, which can be heard in San Francisco this Saturday, July 16, when Arby performs at the Regency Ballroom on the same bill as Seun Kuti (read NPR’s review of Kuti’s From Africa with Fury: Rise).
In one location, we get two African artists of note. (Kuti is a son of legendary Nigerian artist Fela Kuti.) Arby is the late-bloomer of the two — at least in terms of her international recognition. Long revered in Mali, she toured the United States for the first time last year, and early this year her U.S. concerts drew raves from The New York Times (“one of Africa’s greatest singers”), National Public Radio (“a remarkable woman”) — visit her artist page on NPR Music — and Bitch magazine (“there’s really no denying Arby’s powerful voice”). It’s not just Arby’s voice that mesmerizes but the hardscrabble issues she rhapsodizes about, her personal story (her father forbade her from singing music, and her first husband was also dismissive of her singing), and the electrifying musicians and back-up singers she performs with. Now in her early 50s, Arby is still peaking as an artist — and ecstatic that she’s reaching new audiences in Europe and the West.
“The first time (I toured) the United States was a dream come true; this time it’s to make my name truly well-known,” says Arby in a Skype interview from the Netherlands, “This time it’s with more assurance and more confidence.”
In the United States, new fans are often lured to Arby’s concerts by the “desert blues” designation that promoters apply to her music. The same label has been given to such Malian artists as Tinariwen, Tartit and the late Ali Farka Toure, but I and other journalists have written how misleading this appellation is. “Desert blues” makes it seem that Tinariwen (who perform next Thursday, July 14, at Bimbo’s 365 Club), Arby and others are facsimiles of an American blues tradition, when these groups are really their own incarnations — avowedly African, influenced by many musical styles, including Arabic.