Dimanche à Bamako

1	M' Bifé 2:11
2	M' Bifé Balafon Instrumental 1:58
3	Coulibaly 3:18
4	La Réalité 3:32
5	Sénégal Fast Food 4:19
6	Artistiya 3:11
7	La Fête au Village 4:11
8	Camions Sauvages 4:08
9	Beaux Dimanches 3:31
10	La Paix 4:19
11	Djanfa 4:13
12	Taxi Bamako 3:44
13	Politic Amagni 4:56
14	Gnidjougouya 3:45
15	M' Bifé Blues 5:21

Barnes & Noble

The famous "Blind Couple of Mali" have always asserted themselves strongly on record, whether produced at home in Bamako or in France. The gutsy vocals and stinging guitar of Amadou Bagayogo and his rootically chanting wife, Mariam Doumbia, are joyously, instantly identifiable. Dimanche à Bamako is something completely different -- but very, very good. Collaborating with globe-trotting auteur Manu Chao (his role is much more than that of a mere producer), the Africans are sucked into his vertiginous world of bleating sirens, mysterious radio transmissions, and hypnotically simple melodies. As such, it's a much better follow-up to Chao's blockbuster Clandestino than his own Próxima Estación: Esperanza. Not only do Amadou & Mariam put their own Sahelian stamp on Chao's feverish soundscapes, but their Islamic-accented traditions ring more urgent in 2005. In many ways it's the perfect answer to Clandestino's dark positing of the transnational immigrant "lost in the century," as the Malians inhabit Chao's dreamscapes to tell their own stories. On the stomping "Coulibaly" -- three tracks in, when Amadou makes his entrée with a John Lee Hooker guitar line and forceful chorus -- they Africanize house music, guitar rock, and Chao's own percolating dub style. Dimanche à Bamako is too layered, rich, and long to digest at once, but its otherworldly ambience will sate those longing for the magic of Clandestino, and introduce many more to this talented pair. Mark Schwartz

All Music Guide

Amadou & Mariam, the blind couple from Mali, have certainly paid their dues over the last 30 years, and it's about time they received their big break. Certainly given the excellent reviews in Europe, Dimanche a Bamako could be it, thanks to the production and participation by the elf prince of world music, Manu Chao. He brings a playful lightness to their soulful, bluesy Malian sound, letting in plenty of sunshine, and drawing in a sense of place through the ambience of traffic sounds and snippets of conversation. Chao is also obviously present on several tracks, such as "Senegal Fast Food," which offers a bouncy, reggae-styled rhythm so typical of Chao's own records. But even when not so obviously asserting himself, his presence is felt in the space he creates, and the use he makes of Mariam's admittedly limited voice (she's good, but no one will ever mistake her for one of the word's greatest singers), as on "Beau Dimanche," for example. Lyrically, this is very much an album of love songs, postcards between the couple, but it never veers into maudlin sentiment. Yet there's also a political edge to it, such as with "La Realite." Even if you don't understand the words, however, the entire disc is an absolute aural joy, poppy enough to be exquisitely memorable, yet with layers of resonance underneath. Likely to be one of the world music albums of 2005, it can hopefully find the kind of wide audience it surely deserves. Chris Nickson