While banjo player Béla Fleck’s most recent global journey features a long title, the actual album is more expansive and thought provoking than what those thirteen words allow. The record blew out my head on first listen, when my fiancé bought it on iTunes before I had a chance to get it from the label. To claims it is an “all star” project is an understatement and undermines the integrity of this diverse roster of artists: D’Gary, Afel Bocum, Vusi Mahlasela, Oumou Sangare, Richard Bona, Baaba Maal, Toumani Diabate, Bassekou Kouyate, Djelmady Tounkara—it would take the status and stature of this banjo player to even pull such a thing off, not to mention dreaming up such an ambitious undertaking. Yet pull it off Fleck does, eloquently, gracefully, beautifully, with a second volume soon to his shelves. Treat it more like a compilation and you’ll understand: there is no linear voyage to be found. The distance between D’Gary and Sangare itself is a bit of a hop (explained in the documentary of the same name); the next step, to the childlike Anania Ngoglia, requires even more of a step of faith. Some tracks, Fleck is the most prominent feature; at other times, he steps back and lets his guests take center stage. There is a power to this that the entire ensemble exudes. The title track, featuring n’goni player Kouyate and the Haruna Samake Trio, is heartbreaking. Sangare sounds like the queen she is. I haven’t heard D’Gary sound this good in years, especially on the song that bears his name, “D’Gary’s Jam” (which also features another dozen artists). Fleck should be commended for these eighteen efforts. While every one does not hit the mark, the mere scope of what he’s accomplished is honorable, and eighty-percent of the time spot on. Perhaps an even higher percentage should be offered to the wonderful DVD that accompanies the album. The documentary follows Fleck through his travels in Uganda, Tanzania, the Gambia, and Mali, where he stops off at each locale and learns a bit about the sonic folklore as well as the people. Those moments you always wish are caught on tape are: Béla finding the banjo’s ancestor and jamming along; his sessions playing alongside percussion players; walking through n’goni virtuoso Bassekou Kouyate’s home; doing the same with Malian legend, Oumou Sangare, in a much more high-tech fashion. Most inspiring about both Fleck the performer and Fleck the movie subject is how much he moves out of the way of himself to let these African musicians shine. His humility comes out in droves, only adding to his musical prowess, which, when the scenes cut to the song making, is larger than life. Thank goodness the man making the sounds would not say the same.

This review will run in the Spring 2010 edition of Sing Out!