Wati

1	Walide (The Girl I Love) 5:06
2	Ilbiwan (The Moors) 4:14
3	Les Temps Ont Change (Times Have Changed) 4:46
4	Baroni (Chatting) 4:54
5	Sarama (The Charmer) 4:45
6	Dougou Massa (The Head of the Village) 4:11
7	Chauffeurs 4:54
8	Mali Denou (Children of Mali) 4:31
9	Lahilala (There Are No Gods Other Than God) 5:02
10	Barika (Tribute) 3:38
11	Fana (The Telltale) 4:34
12	Poulo (The Peul People) 6:47

Barnes & Noble

When it comes to Amadou & Mariam, the Blind Couple of Mali, hearing is believing. Amadou Bagayoko and Mariam Doumbia have settled into a comfortable groove with Wati, their third international release. Touring Europe and the world has opened up their sound, which, while still centered on the bluesy desert guitar of their homeland, now bears accents ranging from Booker T. & the M.G.s–style soul to North African flamencoisms ("Ilbiwa"), roadhouse piano ("Sarama"), and Latin rumba ("Baroni," featuring French Latino rapper Sergent Garcia). The effect is a lot like an accomplished garage band, straight outta Timbuktu. Organs swell, trap drums rattle and roar, and Bagayoko's guitar rings out with some razor-sharp lead lines. His partner, Mariam, declaims in an utterly typical Malian drone, high and fluttery, lending this funky, bluesy set an exotic edge. It's a wide-ranging swath of sound, but unlike other world-fusion concepts seemingly saddled to well-meaning local talents, it's never beyond the pair's control. The Blind Couple of Mali are international stars, and the impressive head of steam they build up on this winner of an album (and in concert, it should be noted) only reinforces that. Mark Schwartz

All Music Guide

If you think Mali is all about the kora or the Super Rail Band, you need to take a listen to Amadou & Mariam, a blind married couple who take Malian music in a whole different direction. They keep to the bluesy, pentatonic root that's the heart of the desert sound of Mali, but bring it toward the West, even letting guitars howl here and there and funking things up with some lovely keyboard work. Amadou & Mariam sing both separately and together (indeed, they're at their strongest together, when the two voices can work off each other on songs like "Chauffeurs"), and they're both strong writers, using rhythm as much as melody for a sound that's remarkably down-home. There's nothing complex about it -- perhaps the Bamako equivalent of a bar band, albeit a very good one. "Sarama," for example, rocks wonderfully and hypnotically, and wouldn't sound out of place in a roadhouse, getting the crowd up and dancing. Perhaps it's because they don't sound especially African in their approach to music -- allowing the roots to be just one part of the whole -- that they haven't received the praise they deserve. Chris Nickson