Volontany

Malagasy musician Rajery has an extraordinary story involving witchcraft, tainted meat, and a withered hand, none of which has stopped him from becoming one of the island's most respected players of the valiha, a kind of tubular harp. On this, his third release, he plows pretty much the same wonderfully melodic furrow as on his first two albums. Backed by a quartet (plus a couple of guests), he delves into the music of the highlands of Madagascar, with some deft nudges toward jazz. Volontany, or "the color of the ground" — a reference to the red earth of Big Red, as the island is known — uses the voices just as skillfully as the instruments, with inventive harmonies that range from the rough to the polished. The themes — of not losing touch with tradition, of love, and of raising children properly — are supremely Malagasy, and the deliveries marvelously infectious. The music, progressive and inventive, bursts out of the island's bounds and takes on a more international flavor in its fusion of styles. It can only be hoped that more people get to hear him.