Tradition is alive for Kaito Winse, and it hasn’t aged a bit. Based in Brussels and originally from Burkina Faso, Winse performs musical and poetic traditions that have come to him through countless jeli ancestors. On sophomore release Reele Bumbou, he keeps his sound simple: his voice and a handful of acoustic instruments (mouth bow, talking drum, calabash, bells, flute), passing along history and knowledge with deep roots and ongoing relevance. This is not pop music in the lowest common denominator sense. Instead, it is the uncompromising continuation of music that, for the specificities of its origins, is nonetheless made for everybody willing to listen.
Though the composition of each track is stark, Winse’s always passionate delivery commands attention. In the opener, “Djiligui Duni”, he introduces himself as a global traveler. His voice booms forth in melismatic loops, a proclamation of self with spartan majesty. Once he has introduced himself, he launches into rapid percussion, evoking not only the drums with which he has traveled but also his footsteps back and forth across the world.
This song is a story, a recollection of things Winse has learned and taught and the reactions he has received. Many are incredulous at the cultural differences Winse has encountered. As he tells it, his cadence becomes more frenzied until finally he reaches the moral of his story: even the most intelligent individual may not always recognize the truth.
After this ecstatic start, “An-Kôri” soothes with proverbial wisdom. Winse’s voice drops quickly into a lower register. The softness it takes on is the perfect complement to the resonant twang of his mouth bow, an instrument that sometimes even moves further into the foreground than Winse’s own voice. “Waabo” follows another hard tonal pivot that features a rhythmic opening fanfare on tama (talking drum) and flute. Winse sings in greeting and tribute to ancestors, entreating younger listeners to do the same. The tama here makes for especially lively sounds.
A long spoken word intro starts the title track, which extols the values of community support to the sounds of timekeeping bells. It is another of Winse’s quieter pieces. It is immediately followed by his loudest and boldest: “Zögö Tchiende”, an entrancing piece with high sonic density by way of danceable tama patterns and Winse’s voice at its boldest. The record ends with “Ballade Peul”, a piece in constant and wild motion. Here, Winse’s flute is an extension of his body; the traces of his breath and audible voice situate the instrument as a veritable prosthesis.
Without having seen him perform live, I get the sense from Reele Bumbou that Kaito Winse thrives in face-to-face settings and that he and his audiences feed off of each other’s respective energies. His recordings here may not be able to replicate that exact dynamic, but they’re intriguing. Winse comes across here as a consummate performer, as someone who puts his entire body and mind into the work he does. He takes seriously the responsibility of being a tradition bearer while still having fun. He loves what he does and his opportunities to spread Burkinabé traditions. Reele Bumbou is a compelling sampler of his skills.