Educational Media Reviews Online

The story of the musician who achieves a peak of popularity, recedes from public view, is relocated by a fervent fan or producer, and returns once more to the spotlight is familiar to modern audiences. There are several examples in the biographical literature of blues and jazz musicians. Je chanterai pour toi (I will sing for you) presents just such a story.

Boubacar Traoré was born to a family of nobility in Kayes, Mali (the former French Sudan) in 1940. By the early 1960s Traoré was famous throughout Mali as KarKar, a nickname he was given from his soccer-playing days in reference to his ball-handling skills. His rise to fame as a singer and guitarist coincided with his nation’s move to independence from France, officially achieved in 1960. Traoré’s music of the period combined influences from American rock and roll, including Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, and James Brown, with strongly nationalistic messages designed to inspire the young people of Mali to work hard for the success of the new nation. His music, including his 1963 hit, Mali Twist, was widely played on radio and in clubs throughout Western Africa. Unfortunately, the fame achieved by Traoré did not garner him corresponding fortune. In 1964 the Mali government closed the clubs known as grins through which the popularity of Traoré’s music had spread. Faced with increasing responsibility for his family and the lack of financial benefits from performing, Traoré sought employment outside of music. During the following years he worked as a tailor, salesman, and agricultural agent and disappeared from the public stage.

Traoré made a surprise appearance on a Mali television show in 1987 but quickly disappeared again later in the year when his beloved wife Pierette died after childbirth (the Traorés had eleven children, five of whom had already died). The distraught Traoré moved to France where he worked construction jobs and only performed within the community of West African emigrants. A determined British record producer finally tracked Traoré down in Montreuil, a suburb of Paris. After some hesitation Traoré finally accompanied the producer to London where two new albums were recorded. Successful tours of Europe and the United States, as well as more recordings, followed.

Director Jacques Sarasin presents Traoré’s story with minimal interpretation. There are about a dozen scenes of Traoré singing. The music is intriguing: clearly articulated lines on the guitar with occasional turns of phrase with hints of blues influence but also infused with the sort of intricate patterns found in other musics of Western Africa. It is music that can be both happy and sad at the same time. Traoré is filmed performing solo and with other musicians: Ali Farka Touré on guitar, Madieye Niang on percussion (a calabash gourd), and Ballaké Sissoko on the kora, a 21-stringed harp. The sound of this last instrument is remarkably beautiful and it is a bonus to see it played.

The musical scenes are interspersed with short narrations by Mamadou Sangaré and prominent Mali photographer, Malik Sidibé. Traoré himself never addresses the camera directly. Sarasin manages to touch on several interesting topics through the course of the film: the interaction between the beliefs of Islam (Mali’s population is approximately 90% Muslim) and animism, the social atmosphere in Mali during the period of the early 1960s during which Traoré’s songs meant so much to the new spirit of independence, the tradition of the griot musical caste, and by imagery alone, the geography of Mali. Sarasin does not delve into these subjects at all; they are presented as topics of conversation and pass by much as the views of the Mali landscape do: without explanation or commentary. Neither does Sarasin dwell upon the implicit irony of Traoré singing his early songs about the great hopes of a newly freed nation among the somewhat defeated faces of modern Mali, one of the poorest nations in the world.

The film seems to fall somewhere between documentary and art film in its approach and presentation. As a documentary it lacks the sort of background information that allows the viewer to come away feeling as if a discrete piece of knowledge has been gained. Part of this perception may be due to the challenge of reading subtitles while trying to follow the imagery. Of course, this problem is endemic to all subtitled films and can be at least partially resolved by repeated viewings. As art film, it succeeds in its production values (it is beautifully shot and recorded) but somehow lacks the strength of narrative that could truly capture the wondrous arc of Traoré’s life. Fortunately for Sarasin, Traoré is such an engaging subject, and the music so beautiful, that the viewer is still drawn to watch and listen.

This film will be a welcome and necessary addition to any collection that aspires to document African music, but educators should be aware that supplementary material best be prepared in order to maximize the film’s potential as an educational tool.

Awards

• 1st Prize at Montevideo International Film Festival