Tinariwen at Brooklyn Bowl, and Memories of Crossing the Sahara Desert

In the desert, time is irrelevant, and music is a strong and powerful force. Groups gather, chant and drum, in mosques, at open air weddings, for hours on end. We sat and listened, waiting patiently for nothing.

When I first heard the music of Tinariwen broadcast from WFMU radio, I felt a deep knowing, an instant recognition, that stemmed from a wild adventure I had crossing the Sahara desert with my ex-husband in 1993.

Traveling by train, bus, and hired car, we reached Tamanrasset, Algeria. Upon arrival, we learned that rumors (pre-internet) of war were true. We had to wait days to join a Tuareg caravan of trucks that were transporting dates to Mali through rebel territory and kilometers of rock, vastness, and sand dunes. With the drivers, we slaughtered a goat which we carved and ate from daily. I learned to make “Pain du Sable”—bread baked in the sand of the Sahara.

The truck was constantly breaking down and getting stuck in the sand. One sandstorm lasted for hours, which brought me to the brink of understanding what insanity truly feels like. On day three of this off-road journey, we began to encounter rebels, and on day six, we were briefly taken hostage. Our truck was ambushed by prisoners in the open prison town of Kidal just inside Mali. The journey seemed to spiral further and further out of control.

In the desert, time is irrelevant, and music is a strong and powerful force. Groups gather, chant and drum, in mosques, at open air weddings, for hours on end. We sat and listened, waiting patiently for nothing.

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Tinariwen means deserts in Tuareg; and Tinariwen is a pop band rooted in the traditional Tuareg music of the Mali region of the Sahara. The music resonates with faraway and long ago, ancient sounding at its core. Tinariwen in its current configuration includes six members playing up to three electric guitars, a bass, and a djembe hand drum; all the band members sing at times. Plugged in and electrified, the music spins from dirgelike trance into psychedelic jam band sensibility.

At the band’s sold-out Brooklyn Bowl show on March 23, a responsive audience swayed and danced and clapped hands, and only reluctantly let the band leave the stage at show’s end. Tinariwen’s visual stage presence is an odd reality, as they play modern electric instruments in luxurious robes and desert turbans; a surreal visual, drawing to mind the flamboyance of Jimi Hendrix or Parliament.

True to their nomadic existence, they seem to be permanently on tour, a self-imposed exile. I will see them again, and wouldn’t it be amazing if it were in the desert!