Zoom Zemmatt

With Zoom Zemmatt - a funny title in reference to his need to zoom in on details, to better understand, to see further -, Mangane brings together all the pieces that have shaped his singularity for so many years, like his repertoire, a music open enough to allow improvisation, where the one who plays the guitar but also the kalimba pours out his heart mainly in Wolof on the questions that have always bothered him.

Starting with immigration, which he addresses in Emmènes-moi. All these young people who out of despair, for lack of prospects, take the pirogues to seek a better life at the risk of their lives. And for the message to get across, Mangane caresses the kalimba, while the trumpet adds a depth of field to this song full of melancholy. It is also the kalimba that sets the tone for Silalola, a form of initiatory song, like a nursery rhyme where the West African tradition rubs shoulders with the elegant breath of the saxophone.
It is also to the young people of his native country that he addresses himself on Ndaw-ngni, an Afro-Serer mix that takes on accents of desert blues. They are the future, we must allow them to exist, help them, advise them, make them find the right path, some stay in the country and we must support them, give them the means. In Jubbantil (text, straighten), Mangane chooses on an Afro-funk, boosted by the bass of Alune Wade, the right words to call on the elders to know how to transmit without mistreating, to accompany the child so that he grows up well.

Xam Xam, a title inspired by the Casamance tradition that could serve as a happy conclusion to this collection, sees even further towards what it designates as a path to knowledge. We must constantly search, deepen our knowledge, cultivate our curiosity and know how to evolve at any age and in any situation.

Mangane also addresses in afro pop jazz mode the family, this space where solidarity can continue, where we can believe in the future to overcome problems, just as he takes care to salute the memory of Maam Souley, a big brother to whom he pays homage with his voice as deep as it is high-pitched in an intense folk ballad, this style so typical of Senegal. Conversely, he adopts the afro-beat fever on Sama Reni to declare, as he smiles, his flame to the queen of his heart, and with Nguistal, a fusion close to afro-rock, in a pedal-to-the-metal style, he evokes the importance of keeping one's word. This respect, a cardinal value that he slowly declines, alone with guitar and voice, on Cërr.

In just three minutes, everything is said, perfectly in line with the state of mind of a musician who, far from the sirens of an industry, has built himself as close as possible to everything that founds the meaning of a life.