Album: Abel Selaocoe - Hymns of Bantu

The musician Abel Selaocoe reaches out to the ancestors, African and European, continuing a journey that spans continents and centuries, an adventurer guided by love and respect for those who have departed, and yet nourish the splendour of now.

On his second album, Selaocoe plays many of his own compositions, some of them rooted in his own African tradition, others drawing from the baroque repertoire that he’s felt drawn to since he was a child. From the opening track, “Tshole Tshole”, a kind of invitation to the spirit world, a composition based on a South African hymn, the album weaves in and out of the different personae who could be said to sing through Selaocoe: a soft and sensuous tenor, sometimes multi-tracked, that blends with the rich tone of the cello, and in later tracks such as “Emmanuelle” and “Takamba in which the solo cello and the massed strings of his frequent collaborators, Manchester Collective, take off with a succession of danceable rhythms, he sings with that signature growl, a mode of singing in which distortion summons the spirit world. It’s as if he were possessed, and the music moves forward on a spiritual wave that is both irresistible and contagious. He can certainly summon a party atmosphere, but this is a ritual for the ancestors too, so much more than mere entertainment.

On tracks such as “Kea Morara” and “Dinaka” – the latter a prayer for the ancestors – there s a more improvisatory feel, with breaks in the rhythm, a richness of timbre and captivating voice. These tracks stand in sharp contrast to quieter material such as a personal riff inspired by a Marin Marais viola da gamba piece from the 18^th century or a sensitive interpretation of Italian post-minimalist composer Giovanni Sollima’s homage to Boccherini. There is also a version of the Sarabande from Bach's Cello Suite No. 6, with extra layering from Manchester Collective: to my taste, the extra strings, while sweetening the mealncholy feel of the music, undermine its original austerity.

Selaocoe places a great deal of value on togetherness: whether it be the collective joy of performing or working with the equally curious and risk-friendly musicians who have gathered around him. This album owes a great deal to producer Fred Thomas – multi-instrumentalist, composer and serial collaborator. The album’s richness and variety – of moods, textures and rhythms – must in part be a sense of making a whole out of different parts that come together aesthetically and in a way that is true to this frontier-busting cellist. Thomas knows how to create a space in which Selaocoe can spread his wings, remain true to his roots while treading new paths in which categories no longer matter, and the essence of music shines through.

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