Tag: assanethiam

Youssou N’Dour, Set

His second major label album finds the Senegalese superstar making uncompromising mbalax dance music that moves feet globally.

Album of the Week, July 18, 2026

When is a hit not a hit? In the world of the music business, having an album that tops a Billboard chart may not be enough to save you from the axe. Such was the fate of Youssou N’Dour’s contract with Virgin Records following the release of his second album for the label. Set, which sounded a note of support and positivity for the Senegalese Set-Setal movement, hit number one on the world charts but failed to generate a single that matched the performance of The Lion’s “Shakin’ the Tree.” That’s the bad news.

The good news is that in almost every way, Set is a superior album to Youssou’s major label debut. While produced by world music musician Michael Brooks (about whom more later), the musicians on the recording were almost entirely Youssou’s band, the Super Étoile de Dakar. Returning from the first album were Habib Faye on bass and keyboards, Pape Oumar Ngom on guitar, and Assane Thiam on talking drum; the rest of the band included Mbaye Dieye Faye on the sabar, Ibou Cisse on keyboards and guitar, Galass Niang on drums, and Thierno Koite and Issa Cissokho on alto and tenor saxophone. Daniel Lanois produced one track, adding a slightly more commercial note, but otherwise the album plays like music written for the streets of Dakar.

“Set” starts things off with a bang, with the band delivering a guitar-led groove as Youssou sings about the desire for a clean slate, for the youth to be able to hope again. There’s a brief bridge in English: “Give me your hand, give me one chance to know what do you think for the future?” And there’s a tight horn section punctuating the final verses and the play-out. The whole thing is in and out in less than 3:50.

“Alboury” is similarly tightly wound, but with the horns leading the charge this time and with shifts in meter driving the music forward. Youssou retells the story of Alboury Ndiaye, Buurba of the Jolof kingdom who led a rebellion against the French colonial powers in Senegal in the late 19th century before dying in battle against them in 1901. The music pivots from one motif to another with lightning speed, before speeding up to an epic finish.

“Sabar” is a groove driven by guitar and talking drum as Youssou instructs the listener on how to dance the traditional sabar dance, which is accompanied by the sabar drum. It’s a cool little moment, a snack of a song, and you’d like to hear it go longer, but Youssou has other matters on his mind. “Toxiques” is clearly meant to be the single, with Daniel Lanois producing together with the UK DJ crew Coldcut. It’s a pointed political protest song: “Rich countries make toxic waste/Why should they send it to me?/Poor countries know toxic waste/ Why should they accept it?” There’s definitely a groove here, but one sees why the song wouldn’t get a lot of airplay in the European or American markets, unfortunately.

“Sinebar” is a joyous, brisk song warning the listener about the dangers of illicit substances. I don’t know if we can trust the tone of the translation but it seems intended as humorous: “The breeze from the sea/Makes me feel hot rather than cool/I cannot even enjoy/Being with my girlfriend/And I’ve been wearing the same clothes since Sunday/Au secours, SOS.” Again interesting to hear how the musicians play against the meters laid down by the percussionists, veering from a strict 4/4 to an extended meter-blurring introduction in the keyboards to a punchy horn part. Youssou’s wordless chorus in which he sings along with the horns is infectious, and this is one where I tend to sing along regardless of my lack of knowledge of Wolof.

“Medina” is a song of praise to the cradle of Islamic faith, over a gentle keyboard and percussion groove with a killer hook in the alto sax. It’s another short one, just over three minutes, and feels like a lead-in to the faster “Miyoko,” even though the latter song only runs about 20 seconds longer. The difference is in the punchy horn charts. The song is dedicated to the Japanese photographer Miyoko Akiyama, who documented Youssou’s tours of Japan and served as his business representative there. Those are her photos on the album cover and in the liner notes.

“Xale (Our Young People)” puts Youssou’s vocals over the Kreisler String Orchestra, in an arrangement by Habib Faye. It shouldn’t work as well as it does, but the strings really dig into their parts, playing gnarly harmonies against the sinuous vocal melody. Youssou’s lyrics urge the young folks of Senegal to take control of their own destinies and start to contribute their own ideas for the improvement of their country.

“Fenene (Another Place)” is a straightforward love song (“If you really love me/Come away with me/To a place/Where we may be at peace”) set to a jubilant arrangement. Opening with a strummed guitar chord, a brisk talking drum pattern and Youssou’s amazing vocals, the body of the song is built up with the horn section and bass locking in together on a tight groove as Youssou sings the verses above. We get to observe one of his distinctive vocal talents in action on this song, as the phrasing for each line of the verse is completely different, seemingly decided in the moment. For me, this is the one arrangement on the album that feels like it gives the right amount of time to the song; nothing feels rushed and you’re left feeling somewhat breathless when the talking drum ends.

“Fakastalu (Watch Your Step)” is the closest to an American pop song on the album, what with the restrained backing synths and what is either an uncredited accordion or a very good accordion sound on the synth, as well as Youssou’s simpler singalong performance on the vocals. Were it not for the talking drum and the Wolof lyrics, we might be in an REM song, which might explain why I put this one on a mix tape back in the day (one whose anniversary is coming up; I sequenced it on July 28, 1992, preceding the song with “Simple Twist of Fate” and following it with “King of Birds”).

“Hey You!” continues the general vibe of “Fakastalu” with similar instrumentation, but in service of a relative rarity: a Youssou break-up song. There’s the anguished sounding bridge: “Hey you! Hey you you! Where is Ami? / She’s no longer my girlfriend / For all I know she has found / Someone else who makes her happy.” If you don’t speak Wolof it comes across mostly as a chill out tune, with only a little extra grit in Youssou’s vocals to surface the emotional subtext.

“One Day (Jaam),” by contrast, wears its emotional message of peace for the whole world, including peace between humans and animals, on its sleeve. The arrangement stacks a series of keyboards, from a slightly tinny sounding acoustic piano setting to a more convincing Hammond B3 soundalike to more 1980s synths, atop Habib Faye’s bass, insistent percussion, and horn blasts on the chorus. Youssou sings the “one day” part of the chorus in English atop a vibrant talking drum part, giving American listeners just enough of a hook to grab hold of and try to sing along with. The song comes to an end with a descending vocal line that ends with a cappella harmonies, showing off a casual virtuosity right to the finish.

As mentioned above, Youssou was dropped by Virgin Records after this album, but that was hardly the end of his career. He signed with Spike Lee’s 40 Acres and a Mule Musicworks label (an imprint of Columbia Records) and issued the great Eyes Open in 1992, followed by The Guide (Wommat) in 1994. The latter contained his greatest hit, the duet “7 Seconds” with Neneh Cherry, which hit Number One in the Europe, UK, Italy, France, Iceland, and other charts. In 2004 he released Egypt on Nonesuch Records, an album that honored and incorporated music from Mouride Sufism as a statement of solidarity with his religious background. The album was honored (he won his only Grammy award for it) and controversial: recorded in 1999, its release was delayed due to the September 11, 2001 attacks, and some Islamic listeners criticized the record for its perceived combination of Islamic and pop music. Youssou continued to record and even spent a year as Senegal’s Minister of Tourism. He’s now on his own label and showing no signs of slowing down.

We won’t hear another Youssou record, alas—aside from an unobtainable European vinyl release of The Guide, there haven’t been any subsequent album releases on vinyl. But next week we’ll hear another album that crossed over Islamic traditions and pop music, with startling results.

You can listen to this week’s album here:

BONUS: The CD version of Set featured a bonus track, “Ay Chono La”:

BONUS BONUS: A period music video for what seems to be an older version of “Alboury,” complete with soldiers on a train, an unsmiling Habib Faye, and a dance-off:

BONUS BONUS BONUS: There are a lot of longer versions of “Sabar” out there; this one, from a 1991 Earth Day performance in Tokyo, gives an idea of the dance and of some of the wildness left off the record. It’s a must-watch:

BONUS x4: Youssou is still out there performing. Here’s “Sinebar” from 2024. Youssou’s pipes are still impeccable even if his footwork is a little less fleet:

Youssou N’Dour, The Lion

The Senegalese superstar’s major label debut blends a deep groove with modern technology and that incredible voice into a compelling, if uneven, listen.

Album of the Week, June 20, 2026

We’ve met Senegalese superstar Youssou N’Dour in the context of his work with Peter Gabriel; he might still be best known for his incandescent vocal on “In Your Eyes,” and we’ve heard his contributions to Peter’s all-star project Passion. But even before this global success Youssou was, by any measure, a star. It just took the world a while to catch up with him.

Youssou was born in 1958 in the Senegalese capital city of Dakar. He was already performing at age 12, and made many appearances with the Star Band, the house band of the most popular nightclub in Dakar at the time, the Miami Club. A number of bands eventually spun off the Star Band, including Orchestra Baobab and Étoile de Dakar; Youssou was a breakout star in the latter. The band fused traditional Senegalese music with Latin dance music, jazz and soul influences to form the mbalax style, which rapidly became the leading musical form in Senegal, Mauritania and Gambia due to its spread via inexpensive, accessible cassettes.

Étoile de Dakar was short lived due to tensions inside the group and split in two in 1981; Youssou’s half, Super Étoile de Dakar, featured guitarist Jimi Mbaye, bassist Habib Faye, and talking drum (tama) player Assane Thiam. The band recorded eight albums on local labels from 1982 to 1988. You can find a few of them on streaming services; Immigrés and Nelson Mandela are especially worth a listen. But following the release of So in 1986, and the ensuing world tour, it was clear that Youssou had the makings of international stardom. He signed to Virgin Records, which was now distributing Peter Gabriel’s records in the UK, and brought the members of Super Étoile de Dakar along into the studio as his backing band.

“The Lion (Gaïende)” starts us off with a bang. The band is tight as Youssou sings a song about the bravery of his people, in Wolof, that the liner notes translate in part as “We have always been a brave people/We have never contemplated defeat/It is our character to be ambitious… You are our Lions / Hey! Hey! Win! Win! / You must! / We want you to win.” Youssou is in fine voice here, moving quickly through the verse into an insistent chorus, in which he sings a second line that soars over the band. The bridge is noteworthy for some brilliantly fast keyboard work, which turns out to have been contributed by Kenny Kirkland. The lead track seems to fulfill all the promise of this debut, with sizzle and style that sacrifices none of the energy of the earlier Super Étoile recordings but adds a broader soundstage.

“Shakin’ the Tree” gives the people what they want—another Youssou/Peter Gabriel collaboration. This one is better thought of as Peter Gabriel’s band with Peter and Youssou trading lead vocals; of the players in Youssou’s band, only Habib Faye appears, joining Manu Katché, David Rhodes, and a horn section (Phil Todd, Guy Barker, John Barclay, Pete Beachill) made up of British jazz musicians. It helps that the song is a pretty strong Peter Gabriel composition, more optimistic—almost sunny—than the material on either of his two preceding albums. It also helps that it has two strong male voices singing about the strength of women, which you wouldn’t think would be groundbreaking but in 1989 was fairly revolutionary. And those horns! I remember reading a music mag article about Passion in which it talked about Peter sweating the stereo phase of the horns, trying to get the imaging just right in the mix, and you can definitely hear it here. About the only thing worth kvetching about is the vocal on the first verse, where, for the only time on record, Youssou sounds a little tentative as he sings the English lyrics. That may be why Peter chose to re-record the lead vocals with a higher melody when he put the song on his first greatest hits compilation a year later.

“Kocc Barma” is a more traditional mbalax number, featuring more of the Super Étoile sound including a non-British horn section and alternating sections of call-and-response and funky chorus. You can really hear the contributions of Habib Faye on bass and Assane Thiam on talking drum here; together they build an irresistible groove. This song was the headliner of one of Youssou’s last Super Étoile cassette releases, and it gives us a great high-definition picture of how mbalax could play on the world stage.

“Bamako” is more synth- and guitar-forward—that’s David Sancious on acoustic guitar, and African producer George Acogny’s keyboards and production. The percussion is forward in the mix but is largely relegated to straight-ahead timekeeping, with few of the talking drum flourishes from “Kocc Barma” until the very end. Instead we get stabs of strings and washes of heavily reverbed Youssou vocals, with backing vocals from Dolette McDonald. Not a bad thing at all.

“The Truth” builds atop a slap bass foundation with a strong Youssou chorus. Another inspirational lyric, the song begins (in translation) “There is a reason for everything that happens/Everything that moves has a soul.” About the only thing to complain about are the swathes of very 1980s keyboards, but then again, by 1989, synths are inevitable. Still, one wonders what this would sound like with the horn section.

Side two opens with “Old Tucson,” a puzzling song that features Youssou singing in English about three museums: the Maison des Esclaves (House of Slaves) on Gorée Island off the coast of Senegal; the Air and Space Museum, and Old Tucson, a kind of Disneyfied view of the old West where cowboys walk the streets. The groove is strong under the story, but it’s not clear where this shaggy dog story is going to end up. Is the point to marvel at the fruit that sprang from the poisoned beginnings, or just a travelogue? Whatever it is, Youssou will never forget, as he assures us in the final chorus. (This is another one that ended up on the Super Étoile Kocc Barma cassette.)

“Macoy” answers the question: what would it sound like if we had gotten more Youssou on Peter Gabriel’s Passion? The track is built around loops and samples sequenced on the Fairlight and features improvised vocals from Youssou and from his sister Aby N’Dour, along with backing vocals from the Chorale Martyrs de’Ougande. The translated lyrics in the liner notes don’t illuminate so much as deepen the mystery: who is Macoy from Sine? Why should there be shame in her going to her husband’s house? Why must she go after midnight?

“My Daughter (Sama Doom)” builds a groove out of a three-measure phrase and marimba samples on the Fairlight, but here it feels more organic thanks to the capable drumming of Manu Katché, who adds a little straight-ahead drive to the groove laid down by Faye and Thiam. Another soaring chorus adds emotional heft to this song of advice from Youssou to his daughter.

“Bés” closes out the album with another wash of synthesizers. It’s tempting to blame the major-label producers for the preponderance of synthesizers here, but the 1987 version on the Kocc Barma cassette has even more synth sound, albeit on less expensive hardware. It also has a stronger percussive drive than this version; though the album version features Thiam and Katché, it’s David Sancious’s keyboards that carry the overall sound. The lyric here is an inspirational message: “You should help those with less than you/Because our powers are not all the same.” He calls out a series of Senegalese politicians and innovators, charging them with a plea for generosity.

Coming on the heels of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s Shahen-Shah, The Lion can be frustrating for the intrusion of synths, for the way that songs like “Old Tucson” and “Macoy” pose questions with no satisfying answers. At the same time, the album has some flat-out bangers, to say nothing of furthering the truly wonderful collaboration between Youssou and Peter Gabriel. And even better albums lay ahead; we’ll hear one of those in a few weeks. Next week we’ll hear more from some of the musicians who contributed to the success of Gabriel’s Passion.

You can listen to this week’s album here:

BONUS: Here’s a live performance of “Macoy” from Tokyo:

BONUS BONUS: Youssou was playing some of this material in the sets on the So tour where he opened for Peter Gabriel, including the legendary 1987 Athens performance. It’s a treat to watch the band perform “Kocc Barma” in high definition, even if this version omits the brass section: