They've been described as 'the African Rolling Stones', but Tinariwen aren't half as a) decrepit b) past their prime or c) ready to keel over as Jagger and co. In recent years, the Malian band have enjoyed the biggest level of international success to date, thanks to their 2007 breakthrough album 'Amam Iman'. That album brought the Tuareg (native Saharan nomads) to the collective consciousness of Pitchfork readers; before long, even Chris Martin was proclaiming them an influence on Coldplay's sound.
Yet Tinariwen's 25+ year experience as a band is apparent both live (as anyone has seen them will attest to) and on record, something that their fourth release attests to. Recorded in the desert village home of two of the band last year, 'Imidiwan: Companions' continues treading the same path of native West African beats submerged in a haze of electric guitar.
Rhythm is, unsurprisingly, high on Tinariwen's agenda. 'Lulla''s bulging bassline and wild pulse is gorgeous, capturing the ferocity of a blazing African sun in four minutes. 'Tenhert' follows a more modern blueprint, as singer Ibrahim Ag Alhabib's rapid-fire vocals engage with a practically poppy jerkiness; 'Kel Tamashack' swaps the muddled, sand-covered boom for a cleaner, acoustic riff, and languid, upbeat closer 'Chabiba' offers a natty contrast to the more sombre numbers.
It doesn't really matter whether you understand what Tinariwen's lyrics mean; this sort of music is occasionally powerful enough to burrow inside you, find your inner tempo and cause you to move without even realising it. Best of all, there's no pretension or stigma involved in its enjoyment. Perhaps not as potent as its predecessor, but 'Imidiwan' is an easygoing summer delight.
