JUST across the Seine from the Eiffel Tower, Tinariwen are getting ready to introduce their latest album to the world. They are in Paris to perform live on the France Inter radio station. Taking up residence in Studio 104 – a small concert hall housed in the colossal ring-shaped home of French broadcasting, Maison De La Radio – they plug in, switch on and get ready to soundcheck.
There are a lot of firsts going on here: they have new members, new songs to showcase, and new guitars, custom-made for them by British luthier Uberfrank to better suit their unusual tunings and playing style.
“We are very happy to finally embark on a real tour,” percussionist Said Ag Ayad tells Uncut. “We are delighted to be in this atmosphere of reunion, group life, travel and all the everyday adventures. We still have a lot of pleasure in playing – [the music] remains vibrant and always responds to the present moment.”
As soundcheck begins, three of the younger members amble on and strike up a funk jam. They’re in Western clothes, as they often are while travelling, with new touring bassist Cheick Ag Tiglia – also of Tuareg group Tamikrest – particularly stylish in a T-shirt, skinny jeans and some fancy desert boots.
“When I was young, it was my childhood dream to play with Tinariwen,” he says. “As soon as I got out of school each day, my first reflex was to listen to their album, , and I think I got bad grades at school because music took up more space in my life. For the Tuareg people, Tinariwen represents our image, culture and music. Tinariwen is our library because all the songs’ lyrics have a subject related to either history or love, or the suffering of the Tuareg people in the desert.
