Nuru Kane: Have guimbri, will travel

The young, charismatic, strikingly handsome Senegalese musician Nuru Kane is sitting in the office of his manager Pete Holden's flat in a Bermondsey tower block, looking out over London's grey skyline. He's trying to explain the name of his new album Sigil, but we're having trouble. Kane has only spoken English cohesively for a year, and his French-African accent slides words together.

Then, suddenly, his friendly demeanour gives way to a steely gaze. "Each song I sing on the album is a representation of my life's experiences. Some of these things make me proud, some don't. But with this album, I see a picture of me being proud of who I am, and not afraid to tell people what I think. So Sigil is standing up and looking directly into your neighbour's eyes, and being proud of who you are."

Sigil is a rare treat. Its mix of Senegalese traditional singing, Afro-beat, soul, funk, reggae and Moroccan gnawa transcends boundaries, but is both accessible and intoxicating. Kane has the voice, the charm, the intelligence and the musicality to stand alongside the likes of Amadou and Mariam and his more illustrious Senegalese counterparts.

Piecing together his story is as tricky as stitching together the patchwork clothes worn by followers of his Baye Fall religion. He was born 33 years ago in Dakar, one of six children, real name Papa Nouroudine Kane. The surname is common among the Peul people, formerly a nomadic tribe. He was brought up in the area known as Médina-Coura; a thriving district, also the birthplace of Youssou N'Dour.

"In school, I was intelligent," he says proudly. "I was part of a breakdancing team, competing with other areas. One day a friend said, 'Hey, Nuru, do you see all these people here trying to make music?' We decided to form a band. The day after I built my first guitar, finding a makeshift body and fashioning six strings out of old fishing wire.

"I began to play without any real direction, but noticed that I could get a rhythm. My friends noticed it, too. Two years later my mother bought me my first guitar." It was a bass guitar. Six years later he formed a band, African Children, which Kane describes as "Afro-funk with traditional Senegalese influences. It was music for people who wanted to go out and party."

He listened to European music on the radio and fell in love with the blues, and with Bob Marley and Fela Kuti. "I began to change my style of singing; like European blues, but more funky. When I would hear heavy funk I would sing in a traditional Senegalese style. I've always liked this kind of bizarre mix."

Then Kane decided to move to France. His French wife was homesick and wanted him to help bring up their daughter in Paris. At the start, he found it hard to acclimatise and struggled to find work, having to busk in the Metro. Then he met some French musicians and formed the band Nixma Ridial (it means "adventurer"), playing the songs he'd written and performed in Senegal. Although he now had a saxophonist and a tight rhythm-section, he'd not yet found his true direction. That came two years later on a trip to Marrakech.

"Like all the tourists, I was drawn to Djemaa el-Fna, and I could hear this sound coming from somewhere near the market. I followed it and saw one man playing. I asked him what his instrument was. He said it was a guimbri [a melodic three-string acoustic bass]. I instantly fell in love with it. I was convinced he was Senegalese, playing both Senegalese and Malian rhythms."

Back in Paris, Kane bought a guimbri and practised solidly for two years. He returned to Marrakech, but was told he was still playing incorrectly. "I'd never been to school to learn music. I had to scrap what I'd learnt in two years by listening to tapes and other musicians, and start again."

Kane established himself on the French gnawa scene, attracting the attention of top Moroccan acts such as Nass El Ghiwane and Jil Jilala, who would invite him to play when they toured France. "Now I'm the only West African playing the guimbri," he says. "But I still play in a Senegalese style, as well as the Arabic way. I can adapt the sound to suit both palates, and the gnawa musicians respond because they know its roots are in West Africa. Now I'm the only one who sings in the original language."

Kane's break came at Mali's Festival in the Desert in 2004. He was asked to perform just five days before the event, having been spotted by an organiser at a club in Paris. There wasn't time to put his name on the flyers, but his set on the final day caused a wave of excitement among other performers and assembled BBC types and critics.

The acclaim galvanised him, and soon he formed a new band, Bayefall Gnawa, with the French guitarist Thierry Fournel and the n'goni player Djeli Makan Sissoko. "I love Malian blues, and Ali Farka Touré became my biggest influence, alongside the nomadic Tuareg people.

"It made me think: why don't Africans make real African fusion? All our instruments are traditional, but when we play it sounds electric because you hear funk, blues, reggae and Afro-beat influences. On the album, my producer Martin Swann of Mouth Music helped me realise my goal of making unique African blues from the heart. I think Bayefall is about heart, not pride. In my band we all have different religions, but it's not about religion, it's about getting on as human beings. That is my philosophy."

Nuru Kane plays the Spitz, London E1, tomorrow (020-7392 9032), then touring ( www.worldmusic.net). 'Sigil' is released on Riverboat on 13 March