Kimi Djabaté
Dindin
Cumbancha
24 February 2023

Kimi Djabaté experienced a somewhat challenging and troubled childhood. Born and raised to an impoverished but musical family in Tabato, Guinea-Bissau, a village renowned for its griots, the hereditary singer-poets whose songs, music, tales and legends play an essential role in West Africa’s cultural life, he was given his first balafon, an African xylophone, at the age of three. Recognised early on as a child prodigy, his playing was a ready source of income for his family. He played regularly at weddings and baptisms from the age of eight, at the cost of losing out on many other childhood activities, such as playing with friends.
He was soon sent away by his parents to learn the kora, the West African bridge-harp. He also learnt other traditional instruments, an apprenticeship which stood him in good stead for enabling him to master both the guitar and a range of percussion instruments later in life. As a youngster, however, his exposure to music was not limited to traditional West African styles, such as the local gumbé dance music; thanks to a weekly radio show playing music from outside of his country, he was able to absorb Nigerian Afrobeat and Cape Verdean morna, in addition to Western jazz and blues, sounds which reverberate on his latest album.
At 19, he was part of the Guinea-Bissau national music and dance ensemble, which toured Europe. Afterwards, he settled in Lisbon, Portugal, where he established networks and worked with many musicians, including in 2017, Madonna.
This is the background to Dindin, recorded in Almada, Portugal, in 2021. As with previous releases, this is both a homage to his griot heritage and his way of artistically expressing the complexity of contemporary life in Africa, both the joys and obstacles. The title of the album, and the language in which it is sung, is Mandinga, the language spoken by the Mandinka people of northern Guinea-Bissau. Translated into English as “children”, Dindin is intensely personal, with songs dedicated to family members and friends alongside addressing more universal societal and political subjects such as education, children and women’s rights, poverty, education, communication, religion and the many forms of love.
Having listened extensively to Dindin, the album sleeve notes’ assertion that “Kimi Djabaté ‘s music blends ancient Mading (sic) traditions, funky Afrobeat grooves, electric desert blues and acoustic Afro-Portuguese rhythms” would certainly not trouble the folk at the Trades Descriptions Dept. and I would suggest also throwing in a dose of Afro-Latin swing and jazz.
Afohne starts proceedings, a song about how some people have issues with the truth and the need for honesty. Initially, with very much a reggae-like introduction, this quickly develops into a much more funky groove, so funky that you would swear there was brass involved, gourds, sticks and shakers helping to propel the song along with gusto.
The combination of accordion, keyboard, balafon and acoustic guitar makes for a fascinating sound, and nowhere is this more apparent than on Yennsoro, a song about not giving a relationship time to flourish,
“You had me in your hands
But you didn’t wait, everything has its time
Oh, what a pity”,
with the insistent percussion, amplified by the keyboard playing of Paulo Borges, the Latin influence comes through brightly.
Alidonke, the debut single released last year, is a glorious track, one which again addresses relationships, this time one which celebrates finding friendship and love through various forms of communication (the title translates as “Let’s dance”), smiling, talking, laughing, dancing and merely caring for one another. Striking guitars and vocals, very much in the mould of Mali/Tuareg desert blues such as Terakraft or Tamikrest, lend for a propulsive beat on par with output from these two groups.
Two songs which reference the wider issues outlined are firstly Kamben, a gentle, gorgeously relaxing acoustic piece, albeit swathed in layers of percussion, again a suspicion of brass, and soporific vocals from Kimi, despite the lyrics being a call to arms, with the title translating as “Let’s Get United”, pleading for an end to hunger and war and a need for justice and pride. The intoxicating rhythms of Manhe provide one of the album’s highlights. Translated literally as “Something bad”, this is another song which espouses a commitment to justice, one of the primary themes of the album, in particular here, his opposition to forced marriage.
“Don’t force someone to marry another they don’t like
Listen
This isn’t right.”
The songs which reflect the more autobiographical and personal aspects of his life and writing begin with Ná, possibly the most stripped-back, certainly the most laid-back, offering, here Kimi perpetuates his griot heritage by composing a tribute song to one of the most influential people in his life. “Ná,” meaning “mother”, is a beautifully elegant song dedicated to his late mother, imploring her not to cry.
“I want to thank you for everything
For what you did for me
I hope that, wherever you are, you are doing well
I feel your absence.”
Close family are also remembered in Mbembalu, an effervescent, rhythmic journey replete with a multitude of percussion instruments, warm vocal harmony and more accordion. Kimi’s grandparents, the subjects of this delightful song, would be proud. Sano, written for a friend, also has an upbeat and joyful sound, and one on which Kimi’s voice really shines, whilst Dindin, another highlight, straddles both the personal and wider divide.
The title track references Kimi’s childhood and poverty when affording food could often be a struggle. The lyrics implore people not to harm or exploit children, stating that adults have the power to break these vicious cycles. Rather than a mournful song, however, it is one of hope.
The two closing tracks on the release return to the wider perspective. Mana Mana, with balafon featuring heavily on this catchy melody, talks about irresponsibility and the need to tend and look after the vulnerable rather than hurting them. On the final track Djugu Djugu (“Malicious”), a majestically serene acoustic piece featuring balafon and acoustic guitar, with just a hint of bass, providing the perfect foil for Kimi’s sonorous vocals, as he implores “let’s stop being mean to each other”, this brings this fine album to an end.
An optimistic album that truly highlights music’s power to help create a better world, especially for Africans. Kimi’s music on Dindin is both uplifting and highly entertaining whilst at the same time a noble tribute to both his griot roots and African heritage.
Order Dindin via Bandcamp: https://kimidjabate.bandcamp.com/album/dindin