Ali Farka Toure & Toumani Diabete – In the Heart of the Moon (World Circuit)

I heard my mum playing this the other day, and decided it was so lovely I was duty-bound to steal it immediately. Ali Farka Toure, as you might recall, is that extremely well regarded West African guitarist who died a couple of months ago. The obituaries in the posh papers noted that his style of music was fairly unique, and was often likened to an African equivalent of the blues. They also portrayed him as a righteous and big-hearted dude who had spent a lifetime travelling, playing and honing his craft the old fashioned way, and made myself and no doubt many others feel a bit guilty for not knowing who the hell he was, and never taking the time to particularly care.

But here I am, hanging out and playing “In the Heart of the Moon” (what a title!) for the second or third time today, drawn to it not by the fuzzy cover art or it’s teeth-grinding designation as (spit) ‘world music’, or by the desire to say “hark at me readers, I’m listening to music from Africa!”, or even my vague familiarity with the reputation of the performers… simply by the fact that it was coming out of the stereo, and it sounded fucking great.

Entirely instrumental and featuring Toure on guitar and Diabete on kora (a kind of African harp?), “In the Heart of the Moon” is an album of rare beauty, conveying as deep a sense of serenity as I have ever heard from recorded music. Betraying scarcely a hint of the stylistic clichés that decades of well-intentioned misrepresentation have led us to associate with African music, it instead puts me in mind of medieval lute / lyre music, laidback boogie/blues instrumentals, Japanese Koto playing, post-Fahey/Takoma acoustic guitar stylings and any other tradition you care to name in which a couple of solemn and accomplished string players can be pictured strolling out onto the porch of an evening, abandoning all egos, quests and agendas at the door, staring at the landscape ahead of them and just playing gentle, organic and heart-stoppingly melodious music, weaving around and complementing each other’s sounds, caring only for the simple joy of a good tune played well, until the sun rises.

Chances are most of the people in the West who hear this disc will be insufferable world music ponces of one variety of another, which is a damn shame, as it is blessed with an appeal that stretches way beyond that particular ghetto. Dragging things back to my own stomping ground, I can whole-heartedly commend it as essential listening to any admirers of Ben Chasny, Jerry Garcia, Mississippi John Hurt or the mellower moments of Fahey and Robbie Basho who feel like taking a daring leap across the continental divide.

In fact, hell, forget that lot - I’d whole-heartedly commend it as essential listening to my mum, your mum and everyone else’s mum too –I’ll readily admit to being pretty much entirely ignorant of the musical culture these guys have emerged from, but one thing I do know is that it would take a real idiot not to appreciate music this selflessly and undemandingly beautiful.