Born into a long Wolof griot lineage, Senegalese artist Aba Diop plays sabar, a drum capable of holding its own conversations through the nimble hands of its player. On Revolution Sabar, he and the rotating crew of the Yermande Family build densely textured mbalax-tinged dialogues between sabar drums and other instruments–tama (the Wolof version of the talking drum), kora, bass, and guitar–that resonate with the traditions of over a millennium of Diop’s forefathers while still directly addressing a contemporary social context. It’s a remarkable album, not just because of the depth of its historical roots but because it doesn’t sound quite like other major releases with similar stories. Revolution Sabar has a fire all its own, an edge the group comes by honestly in raw sonic encounters.
It’s outstanding from the very first beat. In “Selebeyon”, drums, voice, and kora unite for an opening fanfare before bursting into an intricate invocational dance, setting the standard of bold dynamism that Diop and the Yermande Family uphold throughout Revolution Sabar. Diop’s commanding voice soars at a consistently electrifying pitch on every track, calling out local histories, genealogies, and moral messages: a human archive.
Aba Diop and his bandmates’ other instruments are just as key to these expressions as Diop’s words, thick beds of percussion chanting and dancing as strings and backing singers trace shimmering melodic contours. In particular, the interplay between guitarist Jason Hosier and kora player Noumoucounda Cissoko builds starlit bridges between electric and acoustic, ancient and modern, whipping up a gradual storm on “Serigne Cheikh Ndiguel Fall” and leaping like sparks from a flame on “Liggeuyil”.
In expert synchrony, rhythms, and melodies interlock and make way for constant transformation on all sides. “Senegal”, an ode to Diop’s home country, exemplifies this, as diverse as its namesake nation in terms of moods and ostinati, gliding from blissful kora waltz to peppy funk in another brilliant juxtaposition of past and present. In “Laobéyi Ño Di Samay Xarit”, Diop tells the story of his own sabars’ makers and making primarily through the poetics of his and the Family’s percussion as agile Cissoko moves through it all.
Ceremonial “Bellio Mbaye”, Revolution Sabar’s final piece, features Zeyna Ngom lending her voice to Diop’s ancestral recitation, an exquisite addition to the unstoppable sabar beats and syncopated strings. Each track has countless subtleties embedded in the strength of cascading grooves, begging for multiple replays and deep listening.
Meaning affection or love, “Yermande” is a name well suited to the ensemble Aba Diop leads here. It’s hard to imagine a tighter fit between players and sounds, making for a clarity crucial with a group of so many (literally) hard-hitting musicians interacting on so many levels at once. These musicians and instruments know how to communicate with each other and their audiences in modes and languages that include and still exceed spoken word. At the forefront of it all, Diop makes for a compelling standard bearer, leading the Yermande Family as they celebrate culture and community on Revolution Sabar.