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by Tinariwen

supported by
David Yvinec
David Yvinec thumbnail
David Yvinec This is what actual "desert" blues rock sounds like: great male and female vocals harmonies, entrancing percussions, beautiful musical arrangements and guitar playing (superb guitar tone!) to chill out and relax! There is a mesmerizing quality to that record, and a sense of community and belonging as well. Melancholy is present but not overwhelming. There is an inherent fighting spirit embedded in the music and in the lyrics. Empowering and beautiful! Favorite track: Kel Tinawen (feat. Cass McCombs).
santero86 thumbnail
santero86 This is spirit of Sahara converted to a music, and even a small semitones of atmospere has not been lost. This music deeply impressed me. I feels like im sitting again in the desert in a campground by the fire. I'm missing those nights so much, and hope to travel there again next year.
tomvidm thumbnail
tomvidm Intensely soulful, sincere and cheerful.
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In an unbroken solitude, thoughts appear from nowhere. They frighten me. And, lost in the night, my thirst, my desire for water awakened me. Oh love, dreaming of your tale has exhausted me. I have no hate left for anyone; my soul is confused. I believe in no one now. I’ve become the son of gazelles, who grew up in the meanderings of the desert
Yesterday, at noon, when the youth were finely turbaned At the hour of the Tazzar prayer A terrifying tempest thundered in the north, and advanced like a smoke cloud Expanding, and blocking out the entire horizon. I saw the burning sun, the sparks spouting from its entrails, The people scattering, unable to believe their own eyes. They looked like does who fear the hunters And flee from the sight of arms. All whose consciences won’t leave them in peace are sad. They’re living through terrible times and believe the last judgement is nigh. That day, the beauty of men didn’t deserve the gaze of the beautiful women They were waiting for it; they thought they had already died. Some affirm that God has already put an end to this world. Others raise the question of the moon, that has hidden the sun. Yet others mention England, which would have eclipsed the sun. As for me, I’m on my mount, with my dromedary, who cuts a fine figure with his tiny ears. I’m accompanied by Maryama, more beautiful than ‘Ifesayan’
Today, our future and our hope is an armed return to our homeland. For that reason, our enemies are like oblivion, if only we’d realised. Our guide is merciful. Oh guide…your notoriety embalmed the musk. Oh land of men, my soul was captured by your beauty with just one look. Your golden sand glitters in the light of the moon. I hail The Prophet, whose appeal we have heard, and to whom we have answered
Money has become a commodity The worm has become a bird, And the monkey has a mirror With which he gazes at himself every evening. Nothing has any meaning. Days follow each other and look the same. It’s no longer surprising, of a morning, To see the herd being guarded by jackals. Relationships between men are being turned upside down And everyone is becoming their own opposite.
Anina 03:43
Everybody must know it; love is nothing more than suffering. If only, one day, they’d told us to pack up and go east. Lies and truths can’t live together without discord.
Brave ones, where are you? You’ve become so dispersed, so unstable, that no one understands you. Men and children are dead, your sisters are traumatised: I ask you, where has your pride gone? We’d like to see you united and working together, So that one day you might find your way to the truth.
Why are men so divided? When thirst, wind, drought and heat assail them. Even when they’re put together The Arabs and the Touareg of Timbuktu, Gao, Kidal and Tessalit are in a minority. My friend, I beg of you, let’s speak with one voice. These last few years, I’ve journeyed without my saddle, No one even offers me a meal any more. I’m threatened.
My dear friends, I know that one day I will leave, But I also know that I’ll remain in your memories. Companions, you to whom I’ll still matter after my death Even though I’ll be no more. in these times, my soul is burning. I burn, and no longer know what I want
Evil tongues – you can keep talking. The uprising will be impossible to suppress. The treachery of your evil words has sold out your brothers for your own interests. You’ve locked them up in a prison, every last one of them. You fine talkers, tell us what road you plan to take to avoid us If we remain rooted. You’ve forgotten the suffering of our parents, The suffering they have experienced since birth, Unable to find water, unless they dig wells with their own hands.
Friends, be honest, don’t be disloyal, You have a common destiny. Stop spreading all these rumours that give birth to vice and hatred between brothers. It’s time you all realised that to the depths of my soul, all I wish for is your fulfilment. What I do with my life is nobody else’s business, And what awaits me in my tomb does not concern you, And that holds true until the day I present myself before my God.
How can I live with the emptiness That has taken hold of my soul, And has devoured me little by little? The worse thing is that every time I try to lighten my heart and forget, Her image reappears, and I run headlong into the abyss. When I express the burning wounds of my soul and my heart, She doesn’t even notice. It’s when the world goes to sleep And silence alone settles in, That I feel this painful longing.
All that is not, doesn’t exist. And desire can do nothing about it. Life doesn’t show you reality. I swear that she makes me understand a lot more than she shows. The hardest thing is to see love and friendship disappear. Each one distances himself from the friend That he loved for so long, and with such consideration.
Lalla 04:56
Lalla, all health to you, You who wear the veil so well. Yes, they all come running, presumptuously, But then suddenly retrace their steps. On their guard, they retreat and disperse, Conscious of the suffering inflicted by an indomitable beast Whose beard is matted like the bark of the teak tree.


released September 6, 2019

All songs published by Inear Publishing, administrated by WARP Publishing

Ibrahim Ag Alhabib: lead vocals, lead guitars on Amalouna, Iklam Dglour, Itous Ohar, Kel Tinawen, Mhadjar Yassouf Idjan, Taqkal Tarha, Tenere Maloulat

Abdallah Ag Alhousseyni: lead vocals, lead guitars on Lalla, Anina, Takount, Wartilla, Zawal, claps and background vocals

Alhassane Ag Touhami: lead vocals, lead guitars on Madjam Mahilkamen, claps and background vocals

Eyadou Ag Leche: bass, electric guitar on Taqkal Tarha, acoustic guitar on Kel Tinawen, claps and background vocals

Elaga Ag Hamid: guitars, background vocals, claps

Said Ag Ayad: djembe, calabash, darbuka, background vocals, claps, acoustic rhythm guitar on Kel Tinawen, and Madjam Mahilkamen

Amar Chaoui: additional percussion

Lala and Aicha: background vocals on Anina, Madjam Mahilkamen, Itous Ohar, Kel Tinawen, Mhadjar Yassouf Idjan, Taqkal Tarha, Tenere Maloulat

Rodolphe Burger: guitars on Iklam Dglour
Warren Ellis: violin, loops on Mhadjar Yassouf Idjan, Iklam Dglour, Wartilla, Tenere Maloulat, Zawal
Cass McCombs: guitars on Itous Ohar, vocals and acoustic guitar on Kel Tinawen
Noura Mint Seymali: lead vocals and ardîn on Amalouna, background vocals and ardîn on Takount, ardîn on Zawal
Micah Nelson: charango, mandolin on Taqkal Tarha
Stephen O’Malley: guitars on Itous Ohar, Wartilla, Amalouna
Jeiche Ould Chighaly: « jaguar » guitars on Zawal

Cass McCombs appears courtesy of Anti-

Recorded on the road in Western Sahara, and Mauritania in October and November 2018.
Additional recordings in Tamanrasset, Algeria in December 2018 at Abogi studio ; Paris, December to February 2019 at Studio Delta

Recorded by Thomas Bunio with the help of Jean-Pierre Vigneron and Patrick Votan

Thanks to Jean Pierre Vigneron, Marie Planeille, Nicolau Da Costa, François Gravouil, David Cukier, Pablo Galera, Manar Fegrouch, Maxime Kosinetz

Mixed by Joshua Vance Smith at Studio Delta, Paris in February 2019

Mastered by Mike Marsh on March 12, 2019 at The Exchange, Exmouth, UK
Master editing by Benjamin Joubert, Paris, France

Produced by Patrick Votan

Photography: Marie Planeille
Drawings: Nicolau Da Costa
Design: Gilles Guerlet

Translations from Tamashek: Lala Casanova
Translations into English: Andy Morgan

Thanks to the Tinariwen friends: Bastien Gsell, Javier Maillet, Jean-Pierre Vigneron, David Flower, Bryony Middleton, François Gravouil, Christian Bernhardt, Andy Kauklin, and all the Anti- crew, Jason Rackham, Craig Penney, Vincent Fenice and all the Coop team


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