Review by Sam C. Mac: Ali and Toumani is the final meeting of two of music's greatest minds. It's the second recorded collaborative effort of prodigal kora player Toumani Diabaté—who's lent his talents to artists as diverse as Icelandic popstar Björk and lauded French filmmaker Olivier Assayas—and legendary "King of the Desert Blues" guitar virtuoso Ali Farka Touré, who passed away in early 2006 of bone cancer, less than a year after this recording. Throw in the presence of late Cuban bassist Orlando "Cachaito" López (probably best know for his appearance in the Wim Wenders documentary "The Buena Vista Social Club"), this also being his last studio performance, and this recording takes on an undeniably elegiac tone. But it's not remorse nor melancholy that's most frequently engendered here. Instead, it's overwhelming joy in the spirit of celebration. These two masters—from different generations, and with very different musical backgrounds—delight in anticipating, echoing and interpreting each other's every move. And the warmth of their unique friendship beams through the speakers.

Touré leads off nearly every track with simple, circular guitar phrases and Diabaté dances around them, his kora teasing out the basic melodies set down by his elder with impeccable dexterity. Unlike the pair's last collaboration, 2005's Grammy Award-winning In the Heart of the Moon, this record is not a live set but the result of a series of sessions in London's Livingston Studios, prompted by Touré's ever-quickening illness and the two men's love of working together. It's that love for and—more importantly—that understanding of each other's music that comes through so clearly on Ali and Toumani. From the opening acoustic runs of "Ruby" (named after producer Nick Gold's young daughter), we realize this is music entirely bereft of egotism. Touré's rhythms gently settle into place, underscored by López's specially-tuned bass, and Diabaté playfully spins dizzyingly detailed arpeggios like the best kind of jazz musician, both complimenting and embellishing 0n the sturdy backbone his friend's provided. Both men allow each other ample space, one never competing to best the other. As Touré puts it, "There is no rivalry between us"—there's too much mutual respect in the room for that.

The two best songs here, "Be Mankan" and "56," are also two of the longest, allowing for deliberate builds and intricately woven musical patterns to develop and flourish. Both pieces rank with the greatest either of these artists have put to record (which is obviously saying quite a lot). The former track operates in waltz time, and Diabaté takes the serpentine lead from Touré, who in response offers up his most evocatively beautiful playing on this album. The latter is more upbeat, a flat-out awe-inspiring display of virtuosity that might be the most impressive piece these two have recorded together. Even the few songs that at first seem to be weaker in structure or less engaging open up with repeat listens. In particular, the perfectly titled "Fantasy," a spur of the moment improvisation which plays for barely two minutes but endears as the most spontaneous song of the set. If it at first seems less assured, its delicate and haunting finale, which finds both Touré and Diabaté eerily in sync with each other, shows why so many suggest these two may share the same brain, a couple generations removed.

Some of the songs on Ali and Toumani date back to the 60s ("Sabu Yerkoy"), while others originate even earlier. Such is the case with "Sina Mory," which is said to have first inspired Touré to play the guitar, and is one of two tracks that feature the artist's rasped but beautifully earthy croon. Touré is in fine form throughout, and as sharp and nuanced as he's ever been. The record undeniably takes on further import as his final release; Touré's mastery will echo through time and in the picking and strumming of every accomplished musician who's ever been inspired by him—Diabaté included. But Ali and Toumani should be recognized as a major work regardless of its status as a semi-posthumous release. This is transcendent music by any measure, the synthesis of two brilliant musicians reaching their peak as collaborators just before their time together ran out. Ali and Toumani is more consistent than In the Heart of the Moon as well as either of these artist’s most recent solo releases (all excellent), and its especially moving and invaluable as a document witnessing the passing of the torch from one master to another.

Last Word: A testament to the unique collaborative spirit of today's great West African musicians—especially those from Mali. Ranks with Amadou and Mariam's celebratory last album as essential listening. The last acoustic exhalations of greatness from one of the greatest meets the confident craftsmanship of a new legend in the making.

Review By:
Sam C. Mac

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