An African in Paris
Henri Dikongué
Mot'a Bobe
Tinder Records
Listen at Amazon.com

Reviewed by Syd Baumel

Rumour has it that when a naked, bongo-playing – and apparently stoned – Matthew McConaughey was hauled off to jail in 1999 for resisting arrest for marijuana possession, the CD that was blaring from the actor's stereo was by Henri Dikongué.

It's understandable that the Cameroon-born Parisian's record company hasn't boasted about this in their promotional campaigns. As Dikongué's third album, Mot'a Bobe, demonstrates, the music of the acclaimed singer/songwriter/guitarist is gentle, not rowdy, even when pulling out all the stops – Afro percussion, brass section, and all. Unfortunately, that gentleness and desire to please sometimes steers Dikongué close to pop pap, lowering the tone of an otherwise exciting and sophisticated album.

Dikongué is a fusion artist, bringing Western production values, instrumentation, and musical influences to African, Caribbean, and even Latin roots. The charm of this mixture is most evident on the very first track, "N'Dolu" (My Love), a winning blend of breezy, romantic, French boulevardier accordion strains, along with the syncopated rhythms and hopping bass lines of Africa and Dikongué's consummately pleasant tenor – with female chorus. It's a lively five-minute song you could spend an hour basking in. 

I've listened to Mot'a Bobe perhaps half a dozen times, and none of the tracks that follow quite live up to "N'Dolu"'s promise. But the fact that I have listened so many times testifies to the album's appeal. The title track, "Mot'a Bobe" (Hypocrisy) is a sweet lament with the kind of soaringly beautiful chorus that can become an artist's signature. "N'Oublie Jamais" (Never Forget) is interesting, because while it's only one of two songs sung in Dikingué's second language (French), it's a wistful testament to the singer's mystical bond with his friends back home:

From Africa to the housing development 
Where life has led me. . . .
When I want to think of my friends
Back in the country I parted from. . . .
Then I look at the starry sky
And I see your thoughts passing by.