Sandro Joyeux - A vagabond in love with Africa

We meet Sandro Joyeux, a Parisian musician with an Italian father whose acclaimed debut has piqued the curiosity of industry insiders, to the point of being invited on the recent Neapolitan tour of Pino Daniele's "Tutta n'ata storia", alongside musicians of the caliber of James Senese, Enzo Gragnaniello, Tullio De Piscopo and Raiz. A life split between Paris, Naples and Bamako underlines the nature of a priceless vagabond whose music is rooted in the warmth of Southern Europe and North Africa, light years from the radar of French indie circles and passing trends, but very close to the hearts of the most disadvantaged.

Your musical journey took shape wandering the streets of France and Italy, until you reached Mali, a land where you embraced the Mandingue style with deep passion. Where exactly does your career begin? What pushed you to become a true busker, and what do you still carry with you from those first "street" encounters with the public?

I started out singing opera in the Radio France choir (the French equivalent of Radio Rai) at the age of ten. Having left school with no diploma, I found myself forced to move around a lot for family reasons, and music imposed itself as a way of making a living, the only weapon to survive anywhere: the subway, pedestrian streets, squares, restaurants, anything was fair game. From that period I remember the hunger, the cold, the lines at five in the morning outside the Emmaus association to get a hot breakfast, a shower, to wash clothes. When I played on the street I'd alternate between djembe and guitar. With old friends from Florence we had a habit of playing with our eyes down and after a while checking whether anyone had stopped. A crowd would often gather. Still, it took a lot to catch people's attention. A few times, early on, some customer even had me thrown out of a restaurant.

You've played in prisons, migrant reception centers, psychiatric hospitals. The Antischiavitour was your personal musical journey around the Italian countryside specifically in support of migrants. How did the idea come about? Will you do it again?

Music is good for the soul, it brings people together. I think it's a universal right, like breathing or sleeping. In August 2012 some activist friends asked me if I wanted to go with them to Puglia to play near Foggia, at the Gran Ghetto. I didn't know back then what the Gran Ghetto di Rignano was. There I discovered that my African brothers were living in conditions worthy of Victor Hugo's novels: exploited, forced into brutal workdays picking tomatoes, crammed into makeshift shacks in the middle of nowhere, with no services. That day I found myself in Africa. The concert began on that dusty ground, accompanied by the noise of the generator, lit by a single light for who knows how many miles around, which drew every insect in the area onto me. It was two indescribable hours, nostalgia, joy, maybe for a few hours they were pulled out of their daily reality. Live music doesn't reach the Gran Ghetto, or many other places like it in Italy. That's why the Antischiavitour was born. I'd love to bring other artists there, maybe African artists or any artist who wants to share that experience. I'm waiting for volunteers...

Daniele Sepe, Madya Diebaté, Moussa Traore and Ilaria Graziano are the illustrious guests on your first album, and thanks to the good instincts of Tony Esposito you played on Pino Daniele's recent Neapolitan tour "Tutta n'ata storia", alongside other musicians like James Senese, Enzo Gragnaniello, Tullio De Piscopo and Raiz. How did you handle the big leap? What do these important collaborations leave you with?

I was already listening to Daniele Sepe years ago when I was in France, then I had the pleasure of meeting him and getting to know him, playing together on a few occasions. I'd call him in for all my records. Madya is my Griot, a virtuoso of the Kora. With him I can deepen my knowledge of ancestral Mandingue melodies. I met Moussa in Rome, where he was on vacation for a few days; we didn't even know each other, but after two days we were already in the studio. With Ilaria there's a friendship and artistic collaboration that goes back to my very first days in Rome, I wanted her golden voice on the record. With Tony I'd already had the pleasure of working together in the spring of 2012. He called me right around the time my album was coming out, but I didn't hesitate for a second to accept, even though it upset my plans at the time. He gave me the chance to have an incredible professional experience, on a big stage in front of so many people. Just being able to watch those giants of music at work for six nights was an incredible treasure in itself. Of course I was very nervous, Tony helped me a lot to feel at ease, he gave me confidence and reassurance.

Boubacar Traoré is certainly one of your favorite musicians, and it's no coincidence that you beautifully reinterpreted one of his most intense and famous songs, "Mariama". What other musician representative of that land would you recommend to most people?

The great Salif Keita, the diva Oumou Sangare, the man from the North Afel Bocoum, the balafon genius Neba Solo, the legendary "Rail Band" from Bamako station in the '70s, Youssou N'Dour up to '94... Oliver Mtukudzi, Nass El Ghiwane (the Moroccan Led Zeppelin).

In recent months Mali has been going through a very delicate moment. France recently intervened to restore government sovereignty over the northern Saharan territories, not to mention the human distress of the huge numbers of displaced people forced to wander in increasingly desperate conditions. What's your take on this long, troubled internal conflict? What have you learned from their stories?

The coup happened while we were in the studio recording the album. Moussa (Traore)'s father was directly involved in protecting President Toure; that day we followed events live with a great deal of anxiety. The roots of the problem run deep, the Tuareg question has never been resolved, the state behind a facade of democracy was very weak, and the army was incapable of resisting the offensive by Islamist groups who were imposing sharia and terror in the north of the country. Politically the situation was extremely delicate: France had lost a lot of influence in sub-Saharan Africa over the years and wanted to distance itself from the image of Françafrique (the system of political corruption among African heads of state). That's why it waited until the very last moment for Mali's request for help before intervening. The situation in the north still hasn't stabilized. I have no direct testimony about the situation there.

Eugenio Bennato specifically wanted you as lead vocalist alongside Pietra Montecorvino and the young Egyptian soprano Fatma Said for his opera "L'amore Muove la Luna", staged last year at Naples' historic Teatro San Carlo. How did you engage with a setting so different from your usual spaces? Do you think it's an experience you could repeat?

For me it was partly a return to my roots, since I'd known the environment and the rigour of the symphony orchestra since I was a child. I didn't think I'd find myself back in that way of making music again. After years of playing alone, it was wonderful to find myself on stage with a hundred other people. If it were possible to do it again, I'd say yes right away.

Plans for the future?

Definitely to keep taking this first album to places I've never been. In the meantime, though, I'm already working on new songs. Doing the Antischiavitour again. And then a trip to Africa - I haven't been to Mali in far too long...

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