Songhoy Blues - Optimisme (LP) - Gold Vinyl

Optimisme is the kind of record that lands with a grin and a spark. Songhoy Blues, the Malian quartet that first broke out with Music in Exile and then pushed harder on Résistance, came back in October 2020 with a third album that doubles down on what makes them thrilling. The title says it straight. In a year that felt heavy, they aimed for light, and they did it with swagger, fuzz, and a rhythm section that refuses to sit still.

What jumps out first is how tough and immediate these songs feel. Producer Matt Sweeney keeps the edges sharp and the tempos tight, letting the guitar bite instead of sanding it down. The band’s signature desert blues coils through every riff, but there is a garage rock snap to the drums and a sense of urgency in the vocals that leans punk. You can hear it in the way a riff will circle and tighten, then suddenly open into a chant or a handclap groove. It is music built for bodies, not just minds.

“Worry” became a fan favorite for a reason. It is a pep talk wrapped in a hook, simple and catchy enough to sing along after one chorus, yet anchored by a patient guitar figure that never stops nudging you forward. “Badala” hits harder. The title translates roughly to “I don’t care” or “enough,” and the track comes off like a rallying cry for women pushing back against harassment and control. The guitars snarl. The beat stomps. It is the kind of song that turns a room electric. Then there is “Barre,” a razor-wire anthem that aims straight at political rot and the need for change. Songhoy Blues have always smuggled truths inside party-starting grooves, and here that balance feels dialed in.

Part of the album’s power is language, and how the band moves among them. English slides into Bamana or Songhay, as chants and call-and-response pull you in even if you do not know every word. The message telegraphs through tone and tempo. That is been their trick since day one, when the group came together in Mali after being displaced by the 2012 conflict. They learned to turn survival into momentum, first in crowded Bamako bars, then on festival stages around the world. Optimisme bottles that story and spikes it with distortion.

Compared with their earlier records, this one feels leaner and more direct. The tracks come in hot, stick their landing, and get out. Little details keep revealing themselves. A bright highlife lick tucked under a chorus. A sudden break where the bass carries the melody. Sweeney’s hand is steady, but he does not overplay it. He simply gives the band space to do what they do best, which is lock a groove until the floor moves.

Critics heard it too. The Guardian and Pitchfork both praised the record’s energy and purpose, and the word of mouth has not slowed down. In shops, Optimisme vinyl moves because it sounds huge on a turntable. Those clipped guitars leap out of the speakers, and the percussion sits right in the pocket. If you are crate digging for Songhoy Blues vinyl, this is the one to grab first, the gateway drug that makes you want to track down the earlier albums. And if you prefer to buy Songhoy Blues records online, you will find plenty of copies, because it has been kept in print for a reason. It is also the easiest entry point if you are building a small collection of desert blues next to your Tinariwen and Bombino stack.

I like to imagine dropping the needle on a quiet Sunday afternoon, then realizing twenty minutes later the room has turned into a dance floor. That is the charm here. Optimisme is joyful without being naive, furious without losing its smile. It is a reminder that resilience can be loud, and that guitars can preach as clearly as any sermon. If you are browsing a Melbourne record store or scrolling through a vinyl records Australia site, slide this into your cart. Songhoy Blues albums on vinyl reward volume and repeated listening. The riffs feel lived in, the choruses stick, and the pulse never quits. As mission statements go, Optimisme lives up to its name. It sounds like forward motion.