Resplendent in beautiful Malian robes, the two blind musicians put together a driving, diverse set that was drawn primarily from their latest album, Dimanche a Bamako.
Singing love songs (during which Mariam often comically rubbed her husband's head), party tunes, and a few songs with deeper meanings, Amadou broke up the pace with guitar solos. These were simple explorations, often just one note with rhythmic variations and pauses that made the solo seem so much more complex than it actually was.
There are certain sonic conventions inherent in northwest African music, from the rai and religious songs of Algeria, Mauritania and Morocco to the griot stories and oral histories of cultures ranging from Senegal to northern Cameroon. Amadou and Mariam grew up in these cultures, and their sound is richly reminiscent of it.
As a musician and personality, Amadou is much more dominant. Mariam, who sang on only about half of the songs, has an earnest, insistent soprano that mostly exhorted the audience when she wasn't dueting with her husband. Though not embarrassingly so, her voice and singing ability lacked range.
Amadou's voice was equal to his guitar playing. On songs such as "Coulibaly," he toyed with rhythm and mode with his clear, agile tenor. And he put just the right combination of irony and playfulness into his "M'Bife," a blues that rivals anything on either continent for soulfulness.
