3 DEAD MEN: ADIOS TO MAC GAYDEN, DAVID THOMAS & AMADOU BAGAYOKO

PAYING HOMAGE TO 3 REMARKABLE MUSICIANS, ALL OF WHOM I ENCOUNTERED IN DIFFERENT LOCATIONS

Waving goodbye to Wizz Jones on the Yak made me realise another 3 musicians I had encountered also passed recently. Unlike Wizz, I didn’t know any of these three remotely well, but they all made extremely individual music. So time for me to say “vaya con dios” to these unique talents.

AMADOU BAGAYOKO

Way, way back around the turn of the century I went to Cartagena, a city in Murcia on the east coast of Spain. I’d never been to this region before and have not returned since. I was there for the simple reason that there was a festival of African music on. Once there it turned out that the festival was being held in the city’s Roman amphitheatre.

Cartagena is not a city that attracts a lot of foreign visitors – I imagine the concept of the city hosting a festival of African music was to try and draw people in (it worked for me) – and all I recall beyond the music is that I stayed in student digs (it was summer and the students were away so the rooms were cheap) and that I was there with Jan Fairley (a Scottish journalist) and Charlie Gillett and his wife Buffy (Charlie was a radio presenter and writer who championed American blues/roots music then “world” music). Both Charlie and Jan are long gone and I miss them both. Oh, I also recall one day I went with Charlie and Buffy to the local nudist community/beach and, yes, we all stripped off and got sunburned on bits of our bodies that don’t normally see the sun. Another first.

I believe Lucy Duran, an ethnomusicologist who focuses on music from Francophone West Africa, had played some role in organising the festival (thus alerting Charlie, Jan and I to its existence). Anyway, hearing African artists perform in an amphitheatre late at night during the Spanish summer is a wonderful experience and the audience (largely locals, the amphitheatre only held a few thousand people) loved it.

Saturday night’s headliners were Amadou & Mariam, a blind couple from Mali. I was aware of their existence as their 1998 album Sou Ni Tilé had been released in Western Europe and made an impression in France. Back then France was the leader in breaking African artists in the West (these days, with afrobeats, I imagine its the UK – I could be wrong) and it appeared Amadou & Mariam might follow the likes of Youssou N’Dour and Ali Farka Toure in winning what was then called the “world music” audience.

Here’s Amadou & Mariam with veteran gospel outfit the Blind Boys Of Alabama: I never knew this collaboration had happened until today. I’m now disappointed in myself for missing out on the Mali-meets-Alabama performances.

Well, the duo with their simple backing band – drums, bass, flute - came on around the witching hour and performed one of those rare concerts I will never forget. They stood together, this blind couple from Mali wearing their beautiful robes, and sang with wild joy. Their sound, like that of Ali Farke Toure, blended traditional Mandé music with African American influences (in A&M’s case - James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Wonder) so to create a really distinctive fusion. Amadou played electric guitar and, boy, he really ripped!

Amadou & Mariam were so dynamic the whole amphitheatre was up, jumping with joy (while trying not to fall over – amphitheatres are steep!). I remember thinking at the time that I was experiencing what it must have been like to see Stax soul duo Sam & Dave in the 1960s, that same fierce, joyous energy, the music so raw yet concentrated and capable of lifting all who heard it up.

After Amadou & Mariam finished all us media tarts rushed to the backstage area of the amphitheatre to congratulate the couple and their musicians on how fabulous they were. I shook Amadou’s hand and told him in my atrocious French that they were brilliant and good things would come their way. He and Mariam were very gracious, exuding warmth and happiness. Delightful people, wonderful music.

Amadou & Mariam indeed did go on to achieve great things – their 2004 album Dimanche à Bamako was produced by Manu Chao, the French-Spanish troubadour who was then hugely famous across Europe, and Chao gave the duo a few catchy hooks which helped make them pop stars in France, alongside ensuring they won a broad international audience.

Around that time Charlie had Amadou & Mariam on his BBC London radio show one Saturday night to play what he called “radio ping pong” (he would choose a tune and the guest would then answer it with a tune they thought flowed well) and it was memorable because of the music they, as guests, chose – Pink Floyd, Dire Straits etc. Obviously, being polite they thought they should play British artists on British radio … Charlie was playing West African tunes and getting answered with Money and Money For Nothing! Oh, well.

I did see the duo perform again once Dimanche à Bamako was a hit but, by now, they had a big band around them with electric keyboards et al and the raw dynamic of Cartagena was contained. Not that they were bad, they still sang great, but it wasn’t the same exulted rush. Anyway, I’ve pleased Amadou & Marian achieved international success as they deserved it. Looking on Spotify I see they released lots of music I haven’t heard over recent years - including a collaboration with veteran gospel quartet the Blind Boys Of Alabama. I have a lot of listening to do.

Poor Mariam, having lost your musical partner and husband – and at 71 Amadou wasn’t old (or, unlike David Thomas, who also was 71, obese). I send her my condolences and hope this fine singer and songwriter, who has overcome so many obstacles in life, will decide to continue to make music.

This is a beautifully compiled homage to Mac across his long life - he died aged 83.

MAC GAYDEN

Of the three musicians I’m honouring here, Mac Gayden is likely to be both the most obscure, yet at the same time the most familiar to Yak readers. Obscure because Gayden was largely a Nashville- based session guitarist and songwriter – he did release a few solo albums over the decades, but never seriously pursued a solo artist. No tours or reissues on chic labels or interviews in the music press. No, Mac preferred to operate under the radar. And familiar because one of his songs became a standard and his guitar playing is on many celebrated albums.

I was introduced to Mac once when in Nashville. It wasn’t at a country music event but, instead, at an African American bar where there was an evening honouring local R&B artists. I think there might have been an exhibition celebrating such at the Country Music Hall Of Fame on at the time – as with every other city in the US South, Nashville has an African American community and, being a music city, a Black music scene. Not that the Nashville scene got the kind of attention Black musicians in Memphis (down the road apiece) did – this noted, a TV show made in Nashville in the mid-1960s called The Beat focused on R&B artists who were in town (there’s mindbogglingly wonderful clips of Barbara Lynn, Gatemouth Brown and others playing up a storm on The Beat on YouTube). My recall is hazy but I believe the CMHOF exhibition focused heavily on The Beat.

Here’s an episode of The Beat from 1966. No, Mac’s not on it but he was working with artists who performed on the show. And you can never have too much Barbara Lynn!

Anyway, somehow I got invited to this event and it was a small, unassuming bar with a tiny stage and the evening is very relaxed, there’s a few speeches, awards given out, and one to goes to a white guy called Mac Gayden.

I recognised his name, but primarily as that of a session guitarist: yes, I’m one of those geeks who study LP sleeves to see who played what. That said, at the time I didn’t realise Mac had played on Bob Dylan’s Blonde On Blonde album – probably my favourite Dylan album (cos it rocks hard while sounding fresh and loose). If I’d known this I might have questioned Mac over the many noted sessions he played on – instead, having introduced myself, we initially spoke about the late Steve Young, a remarkable country-folk singer/songwriter/ guitarist who Mac worked with (and produced). Which is how I initially came to know Mac’s name.