Djekpa la You

Dobet Gnahoré sings in her own way. She throws herself headlong but with a winning voice into the battle of all Africans. She screams, she modulates, she hiccups, she hoots, yodels, sighs, whispers, vocalizes, and explodes. She chooses a language or style in the same way you'd choose a mode in Oriental music, as a vehicule to carry the expression of emotions but also reality. It is a way of complementing the theme, choosing words, like musical notes, which communicate better than others. And in this singing we hear West Africa, Central Africa, South and East Africa, tenderly intertwined by her voice. The other tenderness comes from Colin Laroche de Féline whose guitars love this voice to the point marrying with it, while at the same time escaping now and again to give, following the example of the singer, a subtle condensation of styles from the continent, between hints of rumba, blasts of Chimurenga and the agility of western guitar. The entirety is subtly assimilated, almost digested to adorn the singing in a clear African style. In turn, the bass, percussion and occasional, but highly effective brass from the Gangbe Brass Band, raise this voice to the heights it deserves by giving it the necessary perspective  to carry the song further.

"Don't waste years waiting for happiness. Go, press on, my friend..." sings Dobet. She continuously sets the example by driving her song forward to talk about children, women, her country, exile, disease and dignity. Listening to Dobet Gnahoré is to listen to one of these great voices of the possible. And the possible is hope.