Who: Bassekou Kouyate and Ngoni Ba
Where and when: West Holt stage, 2.45pm Saturday
Dress code: The man himself is resplendent in a gold-patterned robe emblazoned with "Master Ngoni", while his band are kitted out in traditional griot dress.
Who's watching: A scrumpy-swilling, sun-scorched throng sprawled out in the mid-afternoon sun. It takes just one number to get them on their feet. Those who aren't dancing are playing "air ngoni".
What happened: Kouyate's virtuoso flair is immediately evident as he strolls onstage, reeling off a tumult of melody from the wooden box tucked under his arm. That he can generate such a sophisticated sound from an instrument that initially resembles a canoe paddle is astounding. But then you're in the presence of a master musician. Kouyate is a champion of the ngoni, an ancient lute-like instrument that is the ancestor of the banjo. In his hands, it becomes a thing of beauty and holds an audience perhaps unfamiliar with his music completely spellbound.
His set features Malian madrigals, performed with slow-burning intensity by his wife Amy Sacko, and riff-heavy hoedowns delivered at a pace that would leave Motörhead gasping for air. Infusing centuries-old rhythms with the spirit of rock'n'roll, you can hear why Kouyate has landed a deal with Sub Pop, so appealing are his band's hypnotic, propulsive grooves to fans of the label that gave the world grunge. Kouyate is a dazzling soloist, transforming the hard-rock histrionics usually associated with fretboard workouts into elegant flourishes. Always committed to exploring the possibilities of his instrument, he even uses a wah-wah pedal to create a gloriously distorted effect. You half expect him to launch into Voodoo Chile.
High point: Kouyate trading licks with one of his ngoni players, a sound that surpasses the blistering runs of Dueling Banjos. Then he and his band approach the front of the stage to unleash a four-pronged attack, launching volleys of relentless riffs at an enraptured crowd.
Low point: None. Even the audience participation moments are free from cringe-worthy singalongs.
In a tweet: An infectious and irresistible tribal hoedown from a global griot at the top of his game.
