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"Senegal 70: Sonic Gems & Previously Unreleased Recordings from the 70s"
There are very few people around making better compilations than Analog Africa’s Samy Ben Redjeb.  For this latest treasure trove of newly unearthed obscurities, Samy teamed up with Teranga Beat's Adamantios Kafetzis, who tracked down Senegalese sound engineer Moussa Diallo back in 2009 and digitized his large archive of tape reels.  Remarkably, only five songs from that big score made it onto the album, so the duo must have made some very hard decisions in narrowing down Senegal 70 to its lean and consistently excellent 13-song song incarnation.  Happily, one of the songs that made the cut is a previously unreleased piece by the incomparable and woefully underdocumented Amara Touré.  Also present is the long-running and internationally successful Orchestra Baobab, but many of the lesser known artists shine just as brightly (if not more so), making this one of Analog Africa's stronger compilations to date.
As is so often the case with regions warranting a Soundway or Analog Africa compilation, Senegal's musical explosion was rooted in the good fortune of having a popular port (in this case, Dakar).  Unlike those in countries further from the coast, forward-thinking Senegalese musicians were treated to plenty of contemporary American and Cuban sounds in the '50s and '60s courtesy of some very hip sailors.  The first major band to successfully incorporate jazz, soul, and Cuban Son Montuno into the Senegalese aesthetic was Star Band de Dakar, which was formed in 1960.  Star Band is not included in this collection, however, as Redjeb and Kafetzis have chosen to focus instead upon all the great bands that formed in their wake.  Since I am lamentably not an ethnomusicologist, I cannot comprehensively pick apart where each influence bleeds into another (nor would I particularly want to).  In general, however, the formula seems to be a combination of driving Latin percussion; funky soul bass lines; and wonderfully spidery, clean guitar lines.
More important than the individual components, however, is the elegantly laid-back and sultry vibe that so many of these songs share.  There is also a recurring trend towards simplicity and hypnotic repetition that has aged quite well and matches my personal sensibility nicely.  There is also a very appealing feeling of casual professionalism pervading this collection, as so many songs manage to feel relaxed and loose while effortlessly keeping the grooves tight and the hooks strong.  It is like the exact opposite of garage rock, but in the best way possible: instead of striving amateurs, Senegal 70 is filled with stone-cold killers just kicking back and riding some excellent grooves.  That said, however, Gestu de Dakar’s stand-out "Ndiourel" definitely sounds like it could have been recorded in a garage or basement, though I don’t know how common either are in Dakar (I do not get out there much).
Of course, the one song that stands out the most flies in the face of all that sinuous, understated soulfulness, as King N'Gom and his band ham it up beautifully on the very fun and ridiculous "Viva Marvillas."  Aside from veering dangerously close to novelty song territory, "Viva Marvillas" is unique in that it basically sounds like two very different songs smashed together, as it becomes very serious and very musical for its second half.  Definitely an odd choice, but I bet King N’Gom would not have made it onto this compilation if "Marvillas" did not ultimately transform into something considerably more sensual and soulful.  In all other cases, the songs on Senegal 70 tend to take the more linear and sensible approach of starting good and staying good.  Admittedly, they also tend to blur together a bit, but that is because they are all so uniformly excellent for exactly the same reason (a great groove).  A few pieces do stand out for other reasons, however.  For example, Fangool’s "Mariama" easily boasts the most rich and charismatic vocals on the entire album.  Elsewhere, La Souruba De Louga improve upon an already spectacular groove with wild percussion fills and a surprisingly dissonant guitar solo.  Orchestre G.M.I.'s "Africa" succeeds similarly, gradually building up to some great trade-off solos from their horn section.
The only arguable downside to Senegal 70 is just that it lacks a single real bombshell that sends me scurrying to long-abandoned music blogs to track down whatever I can by some brilliant new-to-me artist.  That has definitely happened in the past with folks like K. Frimpong, Ebo Taylor, and Amare Touré.  However, my not being blown away by anything probably has a lot more to do with my current level of immersion in African music than it does with Redjeb’s curatorial skills: major revelations come rather easily and frequently when you are new to a particular milieu.  Also, labels like Soundway, Strut, and Analog Africa have likely already unearthed all of the major works to be found and have settled into the much deeper, harder work of digging up all the other great songs that slipped through the cracks. Which, of course, is exactly what Redjeb achieved here: Senegal 70 is a tight, beautifully assembled collection of tight, beautifully assembled songs (many of which have never been previously heard by Western ears, aside from perhaps the aforementioned hip sailors).  Diablos Del Ritmo still maintains its supremacy as my favorite Analog Africa compilation (with Angola Soundtrack a close second), but Senegal 70 probably comes closest to a highly coveted "all killer, no filler" summation than any other collection that Analog Africa has released to date.
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