Ellika Frisell and Solo Cissokho show

09/27/2003 03:00AM

By Susan Budig

Amazingly, I've found that I have something in common with Bill Gates. We both have been in the presence of great wealth. The treasures I have immersed myself in, however, far surpass the impermanence of money. The rich, musical language of two cultures, Sweden and Senegal, with a dash of American Appalachia filled my ears and graced my soul at the 5th annual Nordic Roots Festival held recently at the Cedar Cultural Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The evening left me drenched in a peace-loving spirit.

Saturday's evening show starts with emcee, Nick Lethert amusing the audience with droll, self-depreciating comments. His dry wit set the stage for the Swedish demeanor, in the form of Ellika Frisell, to follow.

Frisell and Solo Cissokho (www.jalikunda.com) perform several numbers from their sole disc, tretakt takissaba, released in 2002 (Xource). Their first set starts up with Kodinadioulou. I see Frisell looking very Swedish, with white-blond hair and becomingly pale skin, holding up the familiar fiddle. She is dressed in a silver pant and tunic suit. Next to her, stands Cissokho, his kinky, black hair braided and flying out of his head. Cissokho wears flowing white pants and tunic. The outfit, given to him by his mother, features intricate detail and trapunto-like embroidery. It stands out as the traditional clothing of Senegal. He holds a kora, an instrument similar in sound to the harp, distinctive to the countries of Senegal, Gambia, and Mali. The visual impression the two of them make is like looking at a piano, with a sharp visual contrast between the two types of keys. Like a piano, the sound produced by these two musicians is harmonious and whole.

When I hear the next song, Takissaba, far from being like oil and water, which are two elements that never mix, Frisell and Cissokho, utterly unique and on the surface dissimilar, come together to create a sound I've never heard before. Frisell presents her polska, a Swedish dance, and Cissokho layers on his Senegalese music, adding vocals in his native Mandinka language. Frisell's foundation, deceptively simple, is set by the rhythmic, steady saw of the fiddle. This creates a perfect framework on which Cissokho plays his kora with child-like abandon. That these two styles can be congruous almost defies logic. But melodious, they are, in a most agreeable way.

Cissokho comes from a long line of griots, that is, storytellers, from his West African country. And in this song, we hear a wonderful story about Nouria. Nouria was a widow and a farmer who lived alone. In her country, when help from the neighbors was needed, food was offered to those who came to work. Cissokho saw Nouria needed help, but was unable to afford to feed the neighbors who came over. Cissokho, in true altruistic fashion, walked from one farm to another soliciting help for Nouria and in exchange, he played the kora for them. I don't know about the cuisine of Senegal, but I now know about the musical flavor and payment such as Cissokho's kora playing would entice me to work all day long.

Cissokho composed this next song, about his grandmother, titling it Mama Tonkara. Frisell, on viola, treats us to a long run during which she closes her eyes and wanders off into a world of pure sound and notes. Then, Cissokho joins in and the interplay between the two is a smiling intimacy.

Frisell tells us that as a musician, she travels a lot. One of the good things to happen as a result is that in 1994, while at a fiddle festival in London, England, she met a wonderful fiddler named Bruce Molsky. With that introduction, Molsky strolls up on stage and joins the duet, making an amazing eclectic trio.

The three of them play an interesting combination of a Norwegian halling tune put together with a Senegalese song, Mansami Cissè. Hallings are dance numbers, generally performed by the men in an effort to impress the women. Mansami Cissè is a song for a king, as Cissokho tells us, "Every king (in Senegal) gets a song."

Frisell fades gracefully into the background as Cissokho and Molsky play an old time duet, Green Grows The Laurel. I am mesmerized by this love song. It is at times saucy and humorous, absolutely delightful, and it also includes these two men's voices, each singing in his own language, simultaneously serenading the audience. Their rich, earthy voices saturate our senses. The sensation of wallowing in the musical wealth they offer is very strong.

Before Molsky leaves the stage, he and Frisell play a favorite of mine, Poor Boy's Troubles. Tongue in cheek, Molsky temporarily renames the tune, Poor Woman's Troubles. As always, this number is enormously inspiring. Adding Cissokho's kora to the mix deepens its vibrancy.

Cissokho lives in Oslo, Norway. Frisell makes her home in Sweden. Occasionally, their flights do not put them in the same place at the same time, as desired. While waiting for Cissokho to arrive for rehearsal, this next song, composed by Frisell, emerged. The Violin Is Waiting For The Kora is a challenging tune, each player displays enticing virtuosity. Serendipity at its finest.

Frisell doesn't sing on stage often, but during this next piece, Saara, Cissokho engages his music mate to sing along in her delicate, clear tones. I think of the flora of Sweden with its petite, fragile flowers blossoming during its short growing season. This describes Frisell's singing. Just a bit of vocalizing, and very pleasant.

Their part of the show, which is the opener for Filarfolket, begins to wind down. The audience, on the other hand, can't stop begging for more. Molsky comes back up on stage and has the delightful experience (I'm sure) of playing along with Frisell and Cissokho on a piece that he's never heard before.

We learn a bit more about the kora, which has 22 strings and is played with the thumb and forefinger of each hand. Cissokho dissects his playing style, suggesting that it is basic building blocks of rhythm played on top of one another. He lost me on the idea of simplicity after he'd plucked about four strings.

The last song, Kaira, is a peace song and after hearing both Frisell and Cissokho sing together in Mandinka, we applaud until our hands are numb and our souls are rejuvenated, rich beyond measure.

World Music Central
http://www.worldmusiccentral.org/article.php/20030923030025213