This is from the online edition of the NY Times… you have to register to access the article.
According to this article, he follows “Senegalese Sufism”. We all know, and have VERY strong feelings, about these offshoot sects. While acknowledging these differences, let us also not exclude each other from the fold of Islam. Leave Allah to Judge everyone. Our job, on earth, is simply to follow His Message as best we are able to. If you have achieved that, and (Nauzubillah) may claim that you are perfect, then one might be in a position to judge others’ level of piety. But none of us are perfect.
By the way, he was very vocal in criticizing the Invasion and Occupation of Iraq. Moreso than some of our Sunni Muslim leaders around the world. This is his biography from his website:
From a Senegalese Master, a Tolerant Side of Islam, Jon Pareles, NY Times, 5 July 2004
The first words Youssou N’Dour sings on “Egypt” (Nonesuch) are “Allah, Allah”: a clear signal from a songwriter whose songs and albums are always statements of conscience. With audacity and grace, humility and confident conviction, Mr. N’Dour has made one of the most important albums of his long career: a profession of Islamic faith that also transforms his music. At a time when the Western image of Islam is often a monolithic one of fundamentalism and violence, Mr. N’Dour has offered a thoughtful, quietly radiant corrective.
Mr. N’Dour is Senegal’s best-known musician. As his global reputation has expanded, he has used his position to extend the West African tradition of the songwriter as historian and social conscience. To reach the world, he has long since absorbed what he wants from Western popular music and technology; the mbalax music he makes with his regular band, Super Étoile de Dakar, harnesses electric instruments to galloping, leaping Senegalese rhythms as he sings about cultural memory and principled behavior. He has a handful of songs in French, but instead of trying to force a crossover on his lyrics, Mr. N’Dour still sings primarily in the Senegalese language Wolof, letting the tone of his voice — clear, impassioned, sometimes searing but always kindly — reach beyond words.
…] The music forges an international hybrid that does not look to the West. Instead it merges the modal patterns and call-and-response of Senegalese songs with Arabic pop arrangements for a 13-piece orchestra. With hovering, sustained strings and curlicued lines for flute or oud, the music links Mr. N’Dour to North African and Middle Eastern singers like Om Kalsoum; it also lets him show his most gentle voice.
Proclaiming his beliefs doesn’t make Mr. N’Dour strident. Just the opposite: there is awe and gratitude in his voice as he retells the saints’ accomplishments and gives thanks for inspiration. And the transparency of the music lets Mr. N’Dour sing as delicately as he ever has.
A few songs use the plink of a Senegalese balafon (marimba) or the plucked strings of a kora (harp-guitar); others float Mr. N’Dour’s voice over Egyptian hand drums and send violins to follow his vocal lines. “Mahdiyu Laye,” about an Islamic messiah, sets Mr. N’Dour’s voice above sustained strings and oud and is sung as tenderly as a love song; “Cheikh Ibra Fall,” about a Mouride leader, switches among call-and-response vocals, pizzicato strings and a stretch of percussion that spells out the underlying beat. But there’s always space and air in the songs; they’re airborne without ever seeming driven.
The superb albums Mr. N’Dour has released to the world market since the early 1990’s - among them “Set” in 1992, “Joko (the Link)” in 2000 and “Nothing’s in Vain” in 2002 - all approached a gleaming, high-tech African-world-pop fusion that Mr. N’Dour virtually perfected. But “Egypt” deliberately steps away from any possibility of formula. The instruments are acoustic, the percussion is minimal (but effective), and nearly every song reinvents Mr. N’Dour’s music, not for some perceived international audience but as a private reflection on faith. At the same time “Egypt” is a public demonstration of a modern Islamic culture that changes wherever it spreads, with a beauty that is open to believers and nonbelievers alike.
