The Corsican group I Muvrini recently called upon Gizavo's accordion wizardry and the group's leader, Jean-François Bernardini, now returns the favour, guesting on a track on Gizavo's new album. Fusing traditional Madagascan sounds with eclectic 'world' rhythms and authentic lyrics, Gizavo manages to experiment with everything from Cajun music to South African influences. We caught up with Régis Gizavo at the Angoulême Music Festival and asked him a few questions about his career and his new album:

The title of your new album, Sammy Olombelo, is a Madagascan expression meaning "we're all human". Why did you decide to use this as a title?
Well, it's not pretentious for a start ... What I'm trying to say is that people tend to forget what they are sometimes, you know, they get all wrapped up in their work and everything. But all it takes to wipe away the worries of the day is a little smile from someone in the street or the underground! I know it's just a little thing - but it's essential as far as I'm concerned. And, for me, the title is a way of expressing this attitude.

How would you describe your new album from a musical point of view?
Whichever way you look at it, it's a follow-on from my last album, Mikea. But it's true that there's one major difference. I recorded Mikea with just one other musician whereas on Sammy Olombelo there are two extra musicians - a bass-player and a guitarist - which brings us up to four. The new album includes several compositions written for four players but there are also tracks where I team up as a duo with my percussionist David Mirandon and other tracks where I sing on my own. Then there are other songs where I play a bit of guitar. So I'd say the new album is a lot more open in many ways but it's still very Madagascan in spirit!

You're considered to be one of the kings of the accordion - or should I say "the poor man's piano", as the instrument is popularly known in Madagascar. But the accordion is practically extinct on the island today, isn't it?
It's true. Madagascar's a poor country so the accordion's turned into a bit of a luxury for local musicians these days. Prices are shooting up - a simple diatonic accordion costs around 10,000 francs (10,000,000 Malagasy francs). It's hard for musicians to buy new instruments and it's now got to the point where there's a risk the accordion will disappear from our repertoire altogether. But there's no lack of accordionists in the country - they just don't have instruments. Right now, they're waiting for the economic situation to change so they can buy an instrument. That's why I decided to get together with a group of friends and try and do something to help. We go round buying up accordions - even second-hand ones - and send them to musicians who need them over there. That way, the young generation of musicians can carry on the tradition.

When does Madagascar's accordion tradition date back to?
The first accordions were introduced around 1800 - just diatonic accordions, nothing else. But suddenly they were everywhere, in all the little villages north, south, east and west! The accordion was originally a European instrument but Madagascans soon adapted it to their own traditional culture. They invented their own style, their own way of playing the accordion and got a completely different sound from their instruments. The accordion music you'll hear in Madagascar doesn't sound like anything you'll hear anywhere else in the world! And I'm proud of that. This tradition marked my whole childhood - I can still remember the music the accordionists used to play in the village streets. To me, those men were truly great musicians because they totally reinvented their musical tradition through the instrument. I remember there were some players who actually customised their instruments, changing a few slats here and there. Madagascans never made their own accordions but they worked out how to adapt the instrument and turn it into something else. The hybrids they came up with allowed them to develop a form of music which was authentically Madagascan - it's really very harmonious and surprising. I try and pay tribute to these men whenever possible because they were the ones who made me want to start playing the instrument myself.

You've established an excellent reputation on the accordion and you could quite easily have carried on playing without taking up singing too. So why did you decide to start singing - was it because you felt frustrated as a musician or because you felt your music needed to be accompanied by lyrics in order to get some kind of message across?
You know, the accordion is a very 'complete' kind of instrument. You use both hands for a start - the left plays bass while the right plays accompaniment. But the thing is, I grew up in a singing culture as well as a musical culture. Where I live everyone, well, nearly everyone, sings all the time, in the street, at parties, everywhere and I was born into this folk tradition … So that's why I wanted to bring this amazing instrument and my voice together and write songs about what life's like in my country! And what I want to get across ... it's not so much messages, as reality. I want to be able to share that reality with other people. The association of my voice, my hands and my instrument means that there's an overall harmony in what I put across and that's very important to me. Some musicians are perfectly happy just working on their chosen instrument - they spend their time trying to improve their playing technique and push their music as far as they can. I think that's great. But what I'm interested in is sharing my vision of the world, being able to express my feelings about my country and life in general. And to do this I need to sing as well as play the accordion. It's a question of being in harmony with yourself.
Do you see yourself as someone with a message to get across?
The way I see it, in the world we live in today everyone's got a message to get across ... when you look at it, everyone's got something to say. And when you actually have the opportunity of getting up on stage and singing to an audience, well, it would be a shame not to take advantage of it. Playing live gives you the opportunity to get lots of positive messages across - we don't just perform for pleasure, you know. When I'm up there singing my songs I don't feel I could do it any differently, because I live in reality, I need to talk about what's going on in the world. I write songs about what I see happening around me each day. And you know, sometimes I'm surprised because I can't come up with the lyrics for a love song ... And I've come to realise that maybe that's because there are simply more important things to say.

Both of your albums feature a composition based on renitra - a traditional rhythm associated with the Masikoro community. These compositions are amazing to listen to but they sound incredibly difficult to play …
Renitra is a type of traditional accordion music from the south-east of Madagascar. I remember when I was young and we used to go on holiday there I'd watch these guys playing renitra and I was totally fascinated - the music was so powerfully rhythmic and yet, at the same time, so melodic it just sounded impossible to play. And yet there were these guys sitting there playing it and they were really amazing. Renitra gives you this incredible energy. You know, in Madagascar when people are possessed, they call in accordionists to play renitra to them. I remember being really amazed by that.
As soon as I'd mastered the basics of the accordion, I told myself I absolutely had to master the renitra. Those guys used to play it on a diatonic accordion, which is smaller and a lot more malleable than the instrument I use. Because it's lighter, they can move the bellows really fast and play at an amazing speed. With a chromatic accordion like I use with 120 bass buttons, it's a bit more difficult. It's hard to play the same rhythms as on the diatonic accordion. But I persevered and in the end I managed to. It's something I'm very proud of - in a way, the renitra is like signing my signature on each album. You know, in the course of my travels I've come to realise that this rhythm doesn't exist anywhere else in the world, only in Madagascar. OK, so there are other rhythms in the world which are just as complex. But there's nothing like renitra. It gets you into a trance where you feel like some spirit has taken over your instrument and you play as if you're possessed... When we play renitra in Madagascar everyone starts whirling around dancing. All you can see is one big cloud of dust … It's always this complete rush of joy, this total party. I came up with a lot of tracks on both albums, but the compositions I'm most proud of are the renitras.