Album Review: Devendra Banhart - Mala

For late nights, early mornings, or the unconsciousness that lies between, Devendra Banhart is at your service. Mala sits quietly between the 1960s folk heroes Donovan and Simon & Garfunkel and modern day French jazz proponents Bertrand Belin or Zaza Fournier, and as such, won't be to everyone's taste. But for those music aficionados who pride themselves on harbouring a record collection that crosses musical lines – or for those who like to periodically sit back and sink into oblivion – then Mala is for you.

There aren't too many “mainstream” artists around these days who personify what it is to be a folk musician. Veterans like Neil Young or Bob Dylan have developed their recent work to be more electric than folk, and “the new folk” like Mumford & Sons, Avett Brothers or The Lumineers, while great in their own rights, step away from the stripped back, acoustic-and-vocals sound of Banhart, Joanna Newsom and The Tallest Man On Earth.

Mala is Banhart's first album since 2009's What Will We Be, and upon listening it's easy to see how Mala spent so long in the pipeline. Spread out across 14 tracks, Banhart sings in three languages (the Spanish-language Mi Negrita is an especial highlight, delivered with the poise and structure of the classic Girl From Ipanema) and despite the restrained arrangements, Mala's songs are composed with great subtlety. 

Recorded in Banhart's home and on a vintage Tascam recorder – more known for its use in recording early hip hop – Mala is thoughtfully hand-crafted and personal. No matter what the content, it's the way folk music should be made.