Cheikh Lô is his own worst enemy. At his best, he's one of Africa's most brilliant musicians, a distinctive, soulful singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist who can cover anything from funk to mbalax and ballads. He gave some extraordinary performances early in his career, then his Lamp Fall album, five years ago, was disappointing. He was back in glorious form last year with Jamm, an album that mixed new songs with pan-African nostalgia, and all he had to do here was repeat that success live. He failed, for this was a curiously sloppy and unfocused show.
He has been aided in the past by Youssou N'Dour, who helped produce his first albums, but he seemed to have learned little of N'Dour's stagecraft. At the start of the show, it was difficult to tell who was singing, as Lô had placed himself at a drum kit at the back of the stage. He started with a funk-influenced jam from the mid-90s, and then a couple of songs from the new album, including his lilting revival of the Bembeya Jazz song from the 70s, Il N'est Jamais Trop Tard, but was mostly so unremarkable that he could have been giving a routine performance to diners back at the Just 4U club in Dakar.
Then, five songs in, he was visible at last. Sporting dark glasses and a black cap on top of his long dreadlocks, he moved to the front of the stage, beating another drum kit, and demonstrating his thrilling, attacking vocals. He was helped by an impressive five-piece band, with versatile saxophone work from Wilfried Zinsou, and began to switch from jazz and Latin-edged songs to echoes of N'Dour's driving mbalax style, and the occasional slower song. The night's finest moment came when he stopped drumming and stood to sing Sankara, a soulful, spine-tingling praise song to the assassinated president of Burkina Faso.
Towards the end of the set he switched to unremarkable guitar work, and back to the drum kit for another jam session, with occasional reminders of his glorious voice. He's capable of far more.
