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If Brussels-based Zap Mama is a world music band, then the world truly is a ghetto. While longtime fans may bemoan each successive move that Marie Daulne and her tribe of (mostly) female Afropeans make from their original a cappella incarnation, Zap moves at the speed of the world around them. No longer the vocally acrobatic group of dancers in face paint of ZAP MAMA and SABSYLMA, the Zap Mama of A MA ZONE is a street-funky collective directed by Daulne and fully integrated into the world of hip-hop and progressive dance beats. In this fulfillment of the Daulne's multicultural agenda -- what's more universal in '99 than hip-hop?-- dense grooves percolate around the ghostly Pygmy-derived chants and vocal polyphony. Most gratifying, Daulne's breathy voice has developed into a diva-worthy instrument (although more so in French than in her stilted English). Where Zap Mama was once fitting accompaniment for high-school assembly periods and hippie-clothing boutiques, A MA ZONE is music for the night. Sophisticated production turns by the Roots, West Coast DJ This Kid Named Miles, and Speech arc with florescent lights, overheard radios, and the occasional snatch of movie soundtrack. And like the world around them, Zap is rife with compelling contradiction. Marie Daulne's lyrics, riding atop futuristic funk beats, warn against the encroaching technology of cell phones, call waiting, and other devices that save time but make us rush through it. But one listen to "Rafiki," their slinky, insinuating collaboration with the Roots, is enough to convince anyone that Marie's zone is the only place in the world to be. Mark Schwartz, Barnes & Noble