Joko from Village to Town

1	Wiri-Wiri 4:07
2	Birima 3:47
3	Beykat 4:29
4	Liggeey 4:39
5	My Hope Is in You 3:54
6	Don't Walk Away 4:44
7	Please Wait 2:37
8	Mouvement (Dunya) 4:26
9	She Doesn't Need to Fall 4:50
10	Yama 5:56
11	This Dream / Peter Gabriel 5:13
12	Red Clay 4:39
13	How Come? / Wyclef Jean 4:12
14	Don't Look Back 3:32
15	Birima / Wyclef Jean 4:42
16	New Africa 2:37

Barnes & Noble

Senegal's superstar Youssou N'Dour sits at the pinnacle of world music success, an artist who's earned an international profile and the respect of his fellow musicians. But fame has its price. Since his introduction to the West via Peter Gabriel's solo work in the '80s, N'Dour has maintained two separate artistic personas. At home in Dakar, at his state-of-the-art Xippi studio, Youssou crafts tough mbalax hits that never get heard in the west; he also cultivates the talents of African rootsmen like the superb Cheikh Lo. Then there's N'Dour's European face, often seen crooning in Wolof alongside Western pop stars (like Neneh Cherry on his huge single "7 Seconds"). JOKO, as its title suggests, attempts to bridge the slick urban N'Dour with the sinewy Youssou. The best tracks -- the slinky mbalax "Birima," "Mouvement (Dunya)," and "Liggeey" ripple with sunny percussion and rich choruses. On the spare, engaging acoustic guitar and percussion-driven "Please Wait," N'Dour sings in English. And then there are the "7 Seconds" reduxes featuring two of the most distinct pop voices in the West: "Don't Walk Away," a ballad featuring Sting, and "This Dream," with Gabriel. A truly offensive and failed collaboration, however, comes from a pair of Wyclef Jean numbers where the rapper reduces N'Dour's magnificent voice to aural wallpaper for his own violent lyrics. A mixed bag? Yes, but fans of Youssou's rootsy live shows will find a lot to like, as will devotees of his lavishly produced pop. More a map than a bridge, JOKO charts of the two worlds that still divide Youssou N'Dour. Mark Schwartz

All Music Guide

In essence, this is a reworking of Joko From Village to Town, which only appeared in Europe. However, slimmed down a bit by removing most of the duets (only "This Dream," featuring mentor Peter Gabriel, survives the cut) and all the remixes, it's definitely leaner and meaner. N'Dour has often been rightly accused of released watered-down albums for a non-African audience, but the addition of two Senegalese cuts, "Miss" and "Madema (The Electricity Is Out Again)," both fine examples of his hard Dakar m'balax style, show that Western audiences can readily accept the real thing. N'Dour himself might have lost a vocal step or two since the glory days of the 1980s, but he can still come in high and sweet with that remarkable voice, like a muezzin calling the faithful to prayer, and outsing most people on the planet. The band, too, is in superb form, with longtime bassist/arranger Habib Faye and outstanding bastion. The record's at its best when it's just N'Dour and the band, flying full throttle, with the tama drum chattering and skittering across the complex dance rhythm. When it slows up, as on "This Dream," and programming becomes a part of the equation, something's definitely lost, be it excitement or spontaneity. The exception is in the epic closer, "Red Dirt," an eloquent plea for Africa, with N'Dour at his impassioned best. All too often, re-jigging an album is a sign of failure; in this case, it's a sign of success. Chris Nickson