The West African balafon of the Mande peoples is an idiophone, a melodic percussion instrument played with two relatively heavy mallets. The keys are carved from the African rosewood tree, Pterocarpus erinaceus, dried and roasted over smouldering sawdust in an oven specifically constructed for this purpose. Back in the 80s, the number of keys was estimated to be 17–22, with 19 being the most common practice (Jessup, 1983, p. 16; Kenneth and Duràn, 1984, as cited in Piškor, 2001, p. 43). In 2021, Lisa Feder unambiguously stated the number of keys to be 23, without specifying any range (Feder, 2021, p. 3) – but this I’d take with great caution, as variation is a given. Based on personal observations in my professional network, the usual number has grown slightly during the past decades. The specimen my teacher donated to me in the late 90s had 20 keys. Today, I count at least 21, but most often 22 keys in balafons of professional quality.
The mallet knobs are tied from caoutchouc strips, prepared from the sap extracted from a rubber tree. Caoutchouc has maintained its popularity, although a handy and time-saving workaround is to use a bicycle inner tube, especially in the tourist souvenir balafons (Jessup, 1983, p. 16), as well as, most recently, in music augmented with live audio effects produced by the undersigned. The struck sound from the bicycle tube mallets is softer and thus less intrusive when aiming for an altered sonic illusion while still being strong enough to produce a clear signal for the contact microphones. Or as clear as it can be, given the distortion effect inherent in the core characteristics of the instrument, which we will focus on next.
To buzz or not to buzz
Balafon's distinctive acoustic sound is flavoured by the sassy buzzing originating from the resonating membranes glued to the calabash gourds under each key. This type of distortion, at times referred to as buzz aesthetics, is characteristic of many African instruments across the continent (for example Driver, 2017, pp. 95–118; Thomson, 2021, pp. 57–64). Given that sonic aesthetics vary wildly on a global level, such a feature may be perceived as a virtue or a flaw. While Christopher Small wryly notes that “as Harry Partch was not the first one to point out, there is no sound that is enjoyed in one culture that is not thought of as horrible noise in another“ (Small, 2012, p. 117), Nathan Riki Thomson fondly recalls his ilimba teacher Hukwe Zawoze’s words about the buzz “feeding the soul of an instrument” (Thomson, 2021, p. 60).
The question of whether or not to allow things to buzz has influenced my artistic decisions for years. Balafon’s calabash membranes are fickle and react unpredictably to temperature and humidity changes. This complicates matters, particularly in terms of sound amplification, introducing displeasing unevenness to the sonic output. I know of professionals who, tired of the stress, have torn away the membranes before entering amplified concert stages. In contrast, I recently found myself increasing the distortion by replacing and thinning the said nuisances. As a general rule, I’d still say that despite the frustration of some individuals, nearly all balafons still buzz. But, with the kora, the situation is different: by definition, vintage kora recordings retain a considerably rougher distortion than the recent ones. This development has not been left unnoticed. Merlyn Driver voices his concern about the gradual dilution of the scratchy approach in Mande music in favour of the Western quest for a smooth ideal. Comparing the buzz to a ritual mask, sonic instead of visual, he recognises in it multi-layered sociocultural indications pointing towards animistic beliefs and the omnipresence of the spiritual world (Driver, 2017, pp. 95–118). Unlike Driver, I do not feel qualified to comment on the possible or impossible presence of the supernatural in the buzz, much less on its impact on aesthetic preferences. My field interpretations tend to yield back towards the simplest base: a different concept of aesthetics. I quote a piece of wisdom heard from several Mande musicians, which I find comforting in other areas of life as well, that nothing without a perceptible flaw can be truly beautiful.
Maintaining the buzz was one of the reasons why I chose the current microphone setup for my balafon. First, I was merely looking for a solution that would guarantee a powerful, natural-sounding signal for the PA. Balafons are typically amplified from above using one or two acoustic microphones. As space is left between the keys and the microphones, louder instruments such as percussion tend to overpower the balafon as the intensity of the concert builds up. Therefore, I ended up ordering a separate microphone for each key, 22 of them altogether, connected to a single output. They are not piezos but dynamic microphones, attached to the keys with a 2–3mm layer of detachable wax. This setup produces not only a fairly decent life-like sound but captures some of the calabash buzzing as well – something the piezos would not, as in immediate contact with the resonator they read sound vibrations instead of air-transmitted waves. On noisy stages, the build worked well, and I was pleased with it. A thought-provoking bonus was the soon-to-follow realisation that the signal would be clean enough to enable the use of live audio effects.
Intrigued by this prospect, I rounded up the rest of the equipment. A colleague had a redundant audio interface lying around, equally outdated and, thus, compatible with my laptop. A foot switch with eight knobs, a DI-box, a channel splitter, and studio-quality headphones completed the setup, and I was ready to dive into the basics of live audio effect programming.
The project evolved into a pioneering quest, as based on the best available knowledge, similar sonic experimenting had not been done with a balafon before. Despite computer processing having entered the game, limitations to sound-altering possibilities still exist. The original signal remains an acoustic wave. It is not a hit-triggered digital impulse: one cannot pick any MIDI instrument from the program library to replace the source qualities. Balafon’s sound is a short, sharp hit with practically no sustain, and, as noted, spiced with lively varying buzz distortion. Extending note length, for example, is quite challenging. Also, a substantial amount of computing power is needed to process audio effects in a live performance without notable lag, clicks, momentary blackouts or total system crashes, as I soon learned. Composing pieces turned into a solution-oriented balancing act between the original vision and technical constraints. Furthermore, there were certain ethical concerns and theoretical angles to consider.
