Albumreview by Jan Vranken
Ivory Coast’s Zouglou Kings Return to Their Roots on Reflective 12th Album
Three decades is a lifetime in pop music. Most groups don’t survive it. Those that do often become nostalgia acts, trapped in amber, endlessly recreating the hits that made them famous. Magic System, the Abidjan quartet that put Ivorian zouglou music on the global map, has chosen a different path with their 12th studio album, Doni Doni. Released to coincide with their 30th anniversary, this is a record about patience, perseverance, and the slow, steady climb from the streets of Anoumabo to the world’s biggest stages.
The title itself—which translates to ‘slowly, slowly’ or ‘little by little’—sets the tone. This isn’t the explosive, festival-ready Magic System of their breakthrough hit ‘Premier Gaou’ or the international crossover smash ‘Magic in the Air.’ Instead, A’Salfo, Goude, Tino, and Manadja deliver something more contemplative, more mature, and arguably more necessary in today’s instant-gratification music landscape. They’re not just celebrating survival; they’re dissecting what it cost.
The album opens with its title track, a philosophical manifesto that feels like the group speaking directly to younger artists grinding their way up. It’s a reminder that Magic System’s journey wasn’t overnight—their 1997 debut Papitou flopped spectacularly, and they faced rejection from every major label before financing Premier Gaou themselves. That hard-won wisdom permeates Doni Doni, particularly on ‘On est degba’ (We Are Disillusioned), which addresses the disappointments and fractures that come with long-term creative partnerships. Sung in Ivorian argot, it’s raw, honest, and feels like eavesdropping on an argument that’s been brewing for years.
What’s immediately striking is the production approach. Magic System has wisely enlisted collaborators from the new generation—rappers like Didi B on ‘Même pas peur,’ vocalist Noémie on ‘À l’occasion de rien,’ and Tamsir—creating a bridge between eras of Ivorian music. These aren’t token features; they’re genuine exchanges that bring fresh energy without diluting the group’s identity. The collaboration with Sidiki Diabaté on ‘Kana ta’ is particularly moving, a tribute to his late father, kora master Toumani Diabaté, that underscores Magic System’s commitment to honoring African musical lineage.
The group’s return to their zouglou roots is deliberate and effective. Tracks like ‘On est des gars’ resurrect the genre’s original spirit—that urban, socially conscious sound that emerged from Ivorian university campuses in the 1990s. After years of criticism for drifting toward more commercial coupé-décalé and electro-pop territory, Magic System seems to be answering their critics head-on. A’Salfo’s voice remains remarkably intact, benefiting from what he calls ‘l’école du voyeur’—years of singing without microphones at funerals and street performances that built an iron-clad technique.
‘Kiaman,’ the album’s unexpected centerpiece, pays homage to Algerian singer Ali Chikh Tahar, weaving North African influences into the West African framework. It’s a bold move that reflects Magic System’s pan-African vision and their understanding that borders matter less than shared experiences. The message, they explain, speaks to our increasingly dehumanized world—a theme that resonates across continents.
Yet Doni Doni isn’t without its slower moments. At 39 minutes across 12 tracks, the album is economical, but some songs—’L’Argent propre’ and ‘Woyo’—feel more like sketches than fully realized ideas. The group’s decision to release tracks gradually, one at a time with individual videos, is innovative in theory but risks fragmenting the album’s narrative cohesion. And while the collaborations add freshness, a few tracks could have benefited from tighter editing.
The album’s most powerful moments come when Magic System confronts the personal cost of their success. ‘Tu m’en veux’ (You Resent Me) and ‘Jalousie’ examine how fame strains friendships and breeds envy, themes rarely addressed this directly in African pop music. These aren’t celebrations; they’re reckonings. The closing track ‘Oh Seigneur’ feels like a prayer, a plea for guidance as the group navigates their fourth decade together.
What makes Doni Doni essential listening isn’t its perfection—it’s its honesty. In an era where African music is finally getting its global due, Magic System refuses to coast on past glories or chase trends. They’re teaching a masterclass in longevity: evolve without losing yourself, mentor without condescension, and remember that the journey matters more than the destination. If you want to understand why they’ve lasted thirty years while countless others fell away, put on ‘Doni Doni’ and listen to a group that learned early that you can’t sprint a marathon.
For anyone who remembers losing their mind to ‘Bouger Bouger’ back in 2005, this album offers something different but equally valuable—the wisdom of artists who’ve seen it all and lived to tell about it, slowly but surely.
(7/10) (Universal Music Africa)
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