Mali and become active in politics. It was clear that he was to be one of the leading intellectuals of his generation. Ousmane Sembène, the Senegalese filmmaker and writer, took a special interest in him, but encouraged him to follow his artistic impulses. Musically, these ran the gamut from Touré to Satie to Hendrix. Poetically, from the Epic of Sundiata to Verlaine to Dylan.
à Tierno Bokar was a complicated project for him to take on. Heâd long ago openly stated his resistance to all organized religion and his specific concerns regarding Islam â not just fundamentalism, but even some moderate forms. He most frequently voiced his concerns in relation to gender politics and homophobia. But obviously, it was also important to acknowledge a figure of tolerance such as Bokar. His sister, Kadidia, was deeply involved in Sufism, and this surely had an influence on the project. So much has been said about that album. It won the Grammy, of course, and the international sales defied all expectations. It was probably the very last moment you could make money like that off a recording â just at the instant the recorded music market was going down the tubes. Even Djeliâs had to reconceptualize the business end of things since then. Who would have thought heâd be talking with Sony about ringtones?
But he doesnât like to get lost in that kind of thing. The real reconceptualization after à Tierno Bokar was musical. Not that Djeli was dissatisfied, but his curiosity is insatiable. Heâs constantly researching, incorporating change. He doesnât tell me a lot about how his new songs are developing. But I get little hints from our correspondence about some of the things that might turn up in his lyrics. Since we communicate about so much â the books weâre reading, the films weâve seen, little anecdotes from
our daily lives â I naturally wonder sometimes if some of this will be reflected in the songs heâs writing. He let me listen to the master of Peau a few weeks before it was released late last year. It was on his laptop, and I had to hear it on headphones. Weâd just had sex. As I told you, when we see each other we generally need to get that out of our systems before we can talk about anything else. So the circumstances were not ideal. He was lying back on the pillows looking very calm, watching me hearing this for the first time.
Now I can tell you, I think Peau is in many ways superior even to à Tierno Bokar . Texturally, itâs exquisitely pared-down. The lyrics are extremely spare. Thereâs very little Bambara, and my French is pretty good, so I was able to follow almost everything. But, I hate to admit, I had a hard time listening to it with any objective distance that first time. I couldnât help straining to hear a trace of myself in the lyrics. This little hunt-and-search operation made it hard to hear the deceptively simple elegance of the music. I was distracted by the multiple references to sex, which sounded discouragingly like reminiscences of other bodies than my own. That âbeautiful, dumb Thai girlâ made a pretty obvious appearance (not, of course, in these words), as did a few other probably both real and imagined breasts, loins, fingers, and necks, none of which evoked my own person. Except for one thing: Iâm not sure, but I suspect the brief, tender, clever, and suspended image of the â paupière de chagrin â might have been a reference to my lazy right eyelid which had seemed to fascinate him so that time in bed.
Â
Â
Friday, May 27, 2005, 0:37 a.m.
Subject: Je mets ma main sur ton genou.
Â
I loved Pierrot le fou completely. How funny I hadnât seen it before. It had everything to do with everything. Of course I
always loved à bout de souffle because who wouldnât, and Le Mépris affected me profoundly. And I watched Masculin féminin with Sandro, who loves Jean-Pierre
à Tierno Bokar was a complicated project for him to take on. Heâd long ago openly stated his resistance to all organized religion and his specific concerns regarding Islam â not just fundamentalism, but even some moderate forms. He most frequently voiced his concerns in relation to gender politics and homophobia. But obviously, it was also important to acknowledge a figure of tolerance such as Bokar. His sister, Kadidia, was deeply involved in Sufism, and this surely had an influence on the project. So much has been said about that album. It won the Grammy, of course, and the international sales defied all expectations. It was probably the very last moment you could make money like that off a recording â just at the instant the recorded music market was going down the tubes. Even Djeliâs had to reconceptualize the business end of things since then. Who would have thought heâd be talking with Sony about ringtones?
But he doesnât like to get lost in that kind of thing. The real reconceptualization after à Tierno Bokar was musical. Not that Djeli was dissatisfied, but his curiosity is insatiable. Heâs constantly researching, incorporating change. He doesnât tell me a lot about how his new songs are developing. But I get little hints from our correspondence about some of the things that might turn up in his lyrics. Since we communicate about so much â the books weâre reading, the films weâve seen, little anecdotes from
our daily lives â I naturally wonder sometimes if some of this will be reflected in the songs heâs writing. He let me listen to the master of Peau a few weeks before it was released late last year. It was on his laptop, and I had to hear it on headphones. Weâd just had sex. As I told you, when we see each other we generally need to get that out of our systems before we can talk about anything else. So the circumstances were not ideal. He was lying back on the pillows looking very calm, watching me hearing this for the first time.
Now I can tell you, I think Peau is in many ways superior even to à Tierno Bokar . Texturally, itâs exquisitely pared-down. The lyrics are extremely spare. Thereâs very little Bambara, and my French is pretty good, so I was able to follow almost everything. But, I hate to admit, I had a hard time listening to it with any objective distance that first time. I couldnât help straining to hear a trace of myself in the lyrics. This little hunt-and-search operation made it hard to hear the deceptively simple elegance of the music. I was distracted by the multiple references to sex, which sounded discouragingly like reminiscences of other bodies than my own. That âbeautiful, dumb Thai girlâ made a pretty obvious appearance (not, of course, in these words), as did a few other probably both real and imagined breasts, loins, fingers, and necks, none of which evoked my own person. Except for one thing: Iâm not sure, but I suspect the brief, tender, clever, and suspended image of the â paupière de chagrin â might have been a reference to my lazy right eyelid which had seemed to fascinate him so that time in bed.
Â
Â
Friday, May 27, 2005, 0:37 a.m.
Subject: Je mets ma main sur ton genou.
Â
I loved Pierrot le fou completely. How funny I hadnât seen it before. It had everything to do with everything. Of course I
always loved à bout de souffle because who wouldnât, and Le Mépris affected me profoundly. And I watched Masculin féminin with Sandro, who loves Jean-Pierre
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