Have you ever noticed that the best
travel writers never really considered themselves as such? Look at anybody’s list of favorites and
you’ll see names like Kerouac, Bowles, Matthiessen, etc. quite often, along
with names like Theroux and Iyer, writers who certainly consider themselves
travel writers, but not exclusively.You’ll
only rarely if ever see a guidebook writer.But there is a historical tradition which goes back directly to Marco
Polo and Ibn Battutah , and even Tacitus and Herodotus, before them.
My glorious career as a music promoter lasted a total of one band (I count time in personalities, not days-months-years).Let’s just say it wasn’t my cup of pu-erh.And no, I’m not some rich kid who decided to hire a hip breakout band for my fancy birthday party.I’m
actually a half-way respected travel and world music journalist with a
background of intensive and extensive travel, and dealings in folk art
and world-based cottage industries.
Primero, Segundo, Tercero, Cuarto, Quinto, and… and… Sixto, ahhhh… And the sixth time was a charm (not that the first five weren’t), and Sixto Diaz (Jesus) Rodriguez came into this world on July 10, 1942, the sixth son of Mexican immigrants working in war-time Detroit, more than three years before atomic bombs would fall on Japan and twenty-five years before rockets would land men on the moon. No one would have predicted that his life would have been easy, but no one would have predicted that it would turn out like it did, either. It all started with his love of music and song and… words full of meaning. In case you don’t know the story yet—though you likely will soon if all goes well at the Oscars Sunday night---it goes something like this: in 1967 he released his first single “I’ll Slip Away” on a small label, to general neglect, and in 1970 and 1971 he released two killer albums, “Cold Fact” and “Coming from Reality,” on a larger label, also to general neglect. He was immediately dropped from the label, of course, and so he discontinued his musical career in favor of jobs generally revolving around the related acts of construction and demolition. But an Australian company picked up the rights to his work because his stuff was selling a bit there. He even toured Oz in 1979 and 1981 with Midnight Oil. And that was that. He remained philosophical, of course, so in 1981 he got a BA in philosophy; so did I.
It’s horrible, of course, the war currently going on in Mali, the desecration of Sufi shrines in Timbuktu, and the disruption of lives in a place where life doesn’t allow much margin for error.Maybe the most ironic aspect of it all is that Mali has been able to cast itself so successfully in the last twenty years as the capital of world music, starting with Ali Farka Toure’ and including dozens of regional stars in its roll-call before making Ali’s son Vieux its latest luminary.The griot and djeli traditions go back much farther than that, of course, which is about all that can be reliably said on the history of the subject.Urban legends of Tuareg revolutionaries turning in their guns for guitars may be more or less accurate, if generously embellished for marketing purposes, but the claim of being able to trace American blues or jazz back to a single village in Mali is probably an over-simplification, if not necessarily false, given only anecdotal evidence and no clear genetic links.
Have you ever noticed that the best
travel writers never really considered themselves as such? Look at anybody’s list of favorites and
you’ll see names like Kerouac, Bowles, Matthiessen, etc. quite often, along
with names like Theroux and Iyer, writers who certainly consider themselves
travel writers, but not exclusively. You’ll
only rarely if ever see a guidebook writer.
But there is a historical tradition which goes back directly to Marco
Polo and Ibn Battutah , and even Tacitus and Herodotus, before them. 
