Eclipse: Amadou and Mariam – review

http://www.theguardian.com/music/australia-culture-blog/2014/jan/13/eclipse-amadou-and-mariam-review

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Does not being able to see make your other senses more acute? An extraordinary show at the Sydney Festival, starring Malian duo Amadou and Mariam, allows the audience to test this theory for themselves, since it takes place in total darkness. And it really is pitch black, so much that your eyes, deprived of any stimulus at all, start to see things that aren’t there – weirdly swimming lights for me and at one point, spookily, an eye.

Amadou Bagakado and Mariam Doumbia have been blind since the ages of 15 and five respectively, so Eclipse presents the world from their perspective. As well as their joyous mix of Afropop and desert blues – which has made them arguably Africa’s most famous musicians and sent stars like Damon Albarn and Manu Chao rushing to collaborate with them – we get the scents of sandalwood, mosquito repellent and cloves, as well as moments where air is blown onto our faces, at one point to represent a plane journey Amadou and Mariam take to international stardom.

It’s part avant garde theatre piece, part beginner’s guide to the duo’s career. Through spoken word interludes from the gorgeously-voiced Malian poet Hamadoun Tandina, Eclipse delivers the story of their life, from meeting at the Insitute for Blind Youth in Bamakou, through falling in love and getting married, to playing festivals all around the world and supporting the likes of U2 and Coldplay. Each song illuminates a different stage in their career, and the fact that the show is so schematic means that it risks not feeling spontaneous. Also, with it being so dark, can we really be sure that there’s a band up there and not just a record playing?

Just as you start to ponder these questions, the curtain is drawn back and Amadou and Marian are revealed, playing in front of a giant backdrop depicting them silhouetted against a full moon. They’re resplendent in orange robes and Bagakado plays a gold guitar. The big reveal is a euphoric moment, though it does also remind you of one big upside of being plunged in darkness – the fact that you can’t see other middle-class white folk attempting to dance to African music.

The incredible artistry of Bagakado’s playing and the warmth and joy of Doumbia’s singing is reaffirmed by the fact that you can now see them. But really, if you trusted your senses, you could have discerned the human presence there all along – in the intricate interplay between the musicians, the extraordinarinessy of their story, and most of all, in the lusty “yeah …” with which Doumbia finishes every song.

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