If the most crucial global trailblazer of the Sahara-borne tishoumaren style was Ali Farka Touré, the ensemble Tinariwen are an entirely distinct second, perhaps even more closely associated with the genre. Today, it’s hard to imagine an indie music scene without their influence: their work lies seamlessly at the axis of blues, rock, and so-called world music; their albums have featured artists like Cass McCombs, Nels Cline, Tunde Adebimpe, and Noura Mint Seymali. They are directly responsible for shedding light on Kel Tamasheq’s circumstances and opening doors for neighboring stars like Bombino and Mdou Moctar.
When Tinariwen released early albums Aman Iman: Water Is Life in 2007 and Imidiwan: Companions in 2009, though, they were still on the rise globally, a group fully-fledged in terms of skill but still winning over new audiences. Now, new reissues on Craft serve as a reminder of the group’s brilliant early years and the fresh sounds that have won them fans across genres and demographics, from your local college radio station to Carlos Santana.
Produced by Justin Adams and Jean-Paul Romann, respectively, Aman Iman and Imidiwan are perhaps the quintessential Tinariwen albums in terms of their internationally-facing work. The guitars sting, ringing out against spartan percussion and lyrical backdrops of melancholy, serenity, and resolve, all hallmarks of the group’s work to this day. In voices both weathered and nimble, Tinariwen’s many members sing of love, war, peace, and the desert, impassioned from start to finish. It’s a tried-and-true foundation for Tinariwen, letting the group transcend processual production changes to sound, always, like themselves.
This does not limit them. Tinariwen are easy to recognize, but not for lack of variety. “Cler Achel” opens Aman Iman with a lively groove, a mood matched later by the jubilant tracks like “Matadjem Yinmixan”, “Imidiwan Winakalin”, and particularly “Tamatant Tilay”. “Ahimana” and “Izarharh Ténéré” are more pensive. “Soixante Trois” mourns the loss of life in the First Tuareg Rebellion, the titular number marking the specific year that lead singer Ibrahim Ag Alhabib watched his father’s execution. “Awa Didjen” and “Ikyadarh Dim” are each weighty and hypnotic, vocal lines winding and flowing over syncopated handclaps and rumbling riffs. Named for a sense of yearning, the penultimate cut, “Assouf”, offers some of the thickest atmospheres on the album as blistering electric guitar (courtesy of producer Adams) and bass (delivered with power, as always, by Eyadou Ag Leche) trade off the spotlight with Ibrahim’s roaring vocals.
On Imidiwan, Tinariwen explore even further. Strong, midtempo dub pulses underlie “Imidiwan Afrik Temdam”, “Tahult In”, and “Imazeghen N’ Adagh”. The lonesome sounds of “Kel Tamashek” and “Assuf Ag Assuf” bring to mind the best Spaghetti Western showdowns. Abdallah Ag Alhousseyni’s rapid-fire vocals on “Tenhert” make it one of the most energizing songs on the album. However, sparser pieces like spacious “Enseqi Ehad Didagh”, slow-burning “Tenalle Chegret”, and late poet Japonais’s “Tamodjerazt Assis” are thrilling in their own right, laced with growls and sharp edges. “Kel Tamashek” takes Tinariwen a little further afield, acoustic guitar crystal-clear and constant, perilous over driving beats. The record ends with “Desert Wind”, a droning instrumental that brings the album to a thoughtful close.
That is, to some extent, the what of this set of reissues. These are not significantly revamped from their original forms nor loaded with bonuses catering to thorough collectors. The why of it, then, is because this is music that deserves continued listening. Listening to Aman Iman and Imidiwan a decade and a half later, it’s apparent that Tinariwen’s early music still holds up astoundingly well; no comparisons to Jimi Hendrix or Led Zeppelin are needed, and no big-name collaborators are required. Unimpeachable in both technique and sincerity, Aman Iman and Imidiwan are potent assemblages of the qualities that make Tinariwen’s music evergreen.