BAMBARA is a three-man masterpiece of bluesy tones and dark, smoky chords. Its heart, lungs and soul are better known as Reid Bateh, Blaze Bateh, and William Brookshire, who when combined, have managed to master 12 tracks that each tell a story.
Beginning with Dark Circles, which haunting bass and thumping drums build momentum enough for you to believe you’re staring in your own dark horror comic, it paints the perfect picture of a bar in the middle of nowhere, cigar smoking members having it out on stage with their instrument of choice, and whiskey being given out on the house.
It jumps from an upbeat pace all the way until track 4 (Night’s Changing – and it really does) where a low, vocal-less piece strips you away from the clash of saxophone and chorus, and changes your entire view on the album. A rarity these days.
Often with albums you find it continues the same throughout, with the occasional bluesy soap-opera number in the middle of others. Though BAMBARA have managed to capture this transcendent change perfectly, and the same rule applies for Human Hair.
The album itself has all the feel of an award-winning album, and takes you through to the bitter end of a slow, phantom melody by the name of Back Home, just to bring you back down to earth in time to flick back to the beginning where it can happen all over again.
The lyrics pencilled by Blaze Bateh are thoughtful and thought provoking, with veins of sax and violin working throughout. The equally ghosted vocals, which wrap the album in a silk bow, readily crafted for the listener and whatever action movie decides it needs this lower, gravelly grit-tone for its picture. I vote for anything with a slow-mo explosion scene.