Tinariwen: "Tenhert"

Tinariwen make traveler’s music. By that I don’t mean wandering music, and I certainly don’t mean driving music; I mean that a vivacious pulse permeates the North African desert-rock collective and synchs nicely with a purposeful stride across the earth’s patchy skin. In bloodline and in spirit, Tinariwen are of the Toureg, a nomadic people whose Tamashek tongue graces all of the group’s recordings. Appropriately, their Western Sahara swagger is all about taking things in stride—exile from one’s country, repression from autocrats, permanent transience—while absolutely soaking in their parched, sun-beaten surroundings as well. Imidiwan, the group’s latest album, may be a tad more polished and upfront with its melodies than its predecessor, the fantastic Aman Iman (2007), but it still packs the lively propulsion and travel-worn ruggedness that this group is known for.

Supposed African blues progenitor Ali Farka Touré might’ve written something like “Tenhert”; its sprightly acoustic guitar bounce and magic-fingers picking recall no one if not the late Malian master. But Tinariwen carry in an electric crunch all their own, one that is never lost behind the lead singer’s half jabbering, half throat-clearing performance. If the track doesn’t sparkle with innovation, that’s because it’s virtually indistinguishable from everything else they have done up to this point, which is kind of the point: the group is refining a particular aesthetic that is just as versatile and enduring as the members themselves.