Géej

    The matrilineal Géej clan dominated the Kajoor region of Senegambia through much of the 18th century. Coordinating with the Wolof warlord Lat Sukaabe Faal, the Géej resisted the French invaders and spread a culture imbibed by Islam and local beliefs. These historical roots continue to mark the philosophical approach to music of one of Senegal’s most remarkable artists, El Hadj N’Diaye. It is the title of his third international release and yet this is not a pink-tainted vision of the past by the composer. With this album title, the singer is in fact referring to the waters where scores of Africans are losing their lives in their attempts to reach the "sanctuary" of European soil. Géej talks of current dilemmas like the African debt, economic emigration from the continent and the Jolla shipwreck that cost over a 1,000 Senegalese lives. In his characteristically low-key manner N’Diaye treats these issues with soft-spoken anger and indignation. His piercing voice make his denunciations all the more poignant and he has wisely stripped the music down to its bare essentials.
    On Géej, you find superb takes of the kora, cello, n’goni and flutes, recording in the pristine conditions of the RECALL studios of Pompignan, southern France. Just occasionally, the electric guitar, heavy bass or electrified sax make a guest appearance on the record but nothing perturbs the delicate acoustic balance N’Diaye and the excellent sound engineer Philippe Gaillot have struck up. The result is 12 achingly powerful songs that reflect the maturity and experience this iconoclast has accumulated over the past decade.
    N’Diaye cuts a unique figure in the rich Senegalese music tapestry. His devotion to the downtrodden has begotten censorship and hostility in his homeland. Songs on corruption, torture and Senegal’s poor have probably meant he has not been afforded the worldwide reputation of the N’Dour’s and Maal’s. But this lean and intense personality has never bowed to official or commercial pressure to modify his drive for a more egalitarian society or world.
    The word siggi continues to be central to N’Diaye’s philosophy, as we hear in songs like “Jolla”. It means “lift up your head” in Wolof and it has impregnated the singer’s work and life (he directs arts activities for an NGO division he has called the Siggi ENDA Art department). In Géej, N’Diaye lauds the contribution to this emancipation by the likes of author Cheikh Anta Diop who we hear in a moving speech against white colonialism. And, in the only song in French, N’Diaye’s lambastes the “modern devils” who continue to haunt Africans with their visa requirements, DNA tests and diplomatic barriers. It is called “Dégueulasse”, a particularly graphic French word meaning “disgusting”. It is an elegant fingers-up to the dominant political philosophy in the West by one of the continent’s great singers who returns to the musical forefront with this outstanding album.
March 5th, 2008

Patrick Labesse

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