It's hard not to approach an album like this with some trepidation. Guitarist Justin Adams works in tandem with Gambian griot Juldeh Camara to create grooves that consciously blend the sounds of American rock and blues with those of West African traditional music; Camara plays the riti (a one-stringed spike fiddle), and the bologo (a sort of two-stringed banjo), and sings, while Adams accompanies on guitars and occasional percussion and keyboard. The duo are on the record as being enthusiastic about the fact that so much of their music is improvised in the moment in the studio; one or the other will play a riff, the other will pick up on it, and they move forward from there. Which is fine, if you like hearing one or maybe two chords repeated for very long periods of time. Granted, pop song structure and tonal development don't always have to be the point -- and on their own musical terms, tracks like "Achu" and the lovely, slide guitar-based "Nangu Sobeh" work very well. At its best, this is music that can induce a sort of trance without being boring or obnoxiously repetitive. But when it isn't at its best, it can be pretentious (notice the truly wanky guitar on "Sahara") or derivative (the Bo Diddley lick on which "Kele Kele [No Passport No Visa]" is based is entirely too literal). There are some great moments on this album, but too few of them to make it solidly recommendable to any but the most die-hard desert blues fanatics.
© Rick Anderson /TiVo