mdou moctar, ut connewitz, leipzig

the sound is so loud and mushy i cannot tell where a phrase begins or ends. the guitar solos work as a single gesture rather than detailed architecture, a raw movement made from multiple refractions of the propulsive riffing below. actually the mud seems more or less on purpose (proven when the rhythm guitarist gets his solo tune and suddenly the scales are articulate) as mdou moctar strikes his guitar hero poses in amused scare quotes before he lets forth another squall of phasered vintage rock noise and simply seems to love how close he can get to the original feeling while speaking another language. the love easily translates as we parry the blows with our bodies while our minds are occupied by a drummer who varies the even and rather heavy ground beat with subtle forceful variations, giving us the necessary textures to keep the ears happy throughout.