For women, singing can be the road to personal power. When their voice is as strong as Malian vocalist Khaira Arby's, that power can move mountains, change minds, and win battles.

Arby's rich, potent sound aims to do just that on Timbuktu Traab (Clermont Music; August 9, 2010), shifting seamlessly between the edgy and progressive and the traditional and deeply rooted. Inspired by her cousin Ali Farka Toure, Arby turns to her mixed Berber and Sonrhai roots and draws on a sweet mixture of desert blues and recording sophistication, blending ripping electric guitar with the forefather of the banjo and funky drum breaks with the traditional percussion of the scraper and the calabash.

Though very much her own woman, Arby, born in a village not far from the famed city of Timbutku, is firmly planted in the desert sand. Her creativity flows in part from the people of her home region of Northern Mali-the young musicians in her band all hail from Timbuktu-and from their past and present struggles. As Arby puts it, "Trab is our land, our home, Timbuktu. Its history, its mystery, everything."

And this history runs deep through Arby's music. "Djaba" is a song about a legendary ancestral Tamashek warrior; it is also an authentic dance in Timbuktu. By reframing and reinterpreting the tale, Arby hopes to not only retell this important story, but also keep the dance alive among younger generations. "Sourgou" recounts the Tamasheks' struggle against colonial domination, while "Youba" recounts struggles of a more contemporary sort, praising the brave return of salt mine workers by moonlight.

Arby has taken up-and updated-one important role of African women in traditional societies: praise singing. This means bluesy homage to the prophet Mohammed ("Salou") or to good friends. "Dja Cheickna" praises a beautiful friend of Arby's from a good family: "May Dja Cheickna live a good life." The song bursts with funky high-hat, sizzling bass and guitar, and Arby's stunning yodeling, as age-old hand-clapping rhythms entwine with crunchy distorted guitar.

Yet despite deep roots, Arby has long gone her own way, turning the bright compliments and veiled metaphors of traditional female praise and critique into hard-edged calls for change and justice. Her own life, discouraged by relatives who did not approve of her public performances, has honed this message. And like Miriam Makeba and other African divas before her, Arby embraces her power through words.

Arby's composition process maximizes this and begins with the words themselves, drawing on a theme and developing lyrics from there. For her, the melody, rhythm and accompaniment all come later, highlighting the importance of music as social criticism to her fellow Malians. While she draws on the four languages of her heritage, the true impact of words bursts forth in her strong vocal delivery.

Arby addresses issues both painful and controversial, yet with a profound sense of heart and personal connection. In "Wayidou," she pleads for the better treatment of women in Mali in general, "Happiness for women is gone. In these times we cannot speak of happiness and light. Why in a country of beautiful women do men go to war?"

In "Feryene," she speaks out against female circumcision, which has hurt or killed many young Malian women, and continues to be a common practice. "Female excision has caused much suffering and much human loss. I am making people aware so that it ends and so that all Mali fights against it. As a mother I am making my contribution to that effort."

Khaira Arby, singing out and speaking out, has still become a darling of the Malian scene, as she captures the modern buzz of Timbuktu and the lilting pace of the desert sands, a world of movement and flow.

Yet her mind is always on the hope and struggle that guides her songs: "I dream of a recording studio and cultural center in Timbuktu for young talent, and I want to struggle against war, sickness, and poverty by recording albums in all the languages I can. I want to teach the daughters of the world, teach them to think, to value themselves, to sing."

From the tundra to the tropics, people can't resist the urge to snap, clap, step, holler, and sing artful music. This universal resonator-our bodies-and its myriad global sounds ignite audiences of the International Body Music Festival in Concert at Lincoln Center , August 12, 2010. Body music old and new will be unleashed by Oakland , CA 's Slammin All-Body Band, Brazilian ensemble Barbatuques, Inuit Throatsingers Celina Kalluk and Lucie Idlout and African-American Hambone artist Derique McGee.  It's music you can see, dance you can hear.  It's the oldest music on the planet, and brand new.

Produced by Oakland-based Crosspulse (www.crosspulse.com), the International Body Music Festival is the first gathering of its kind anywhere, an unprecedented concert program of four distinct Body Music styles from throughout the Americas , including an explosive collaboration between Slammin All-Body Band and Barbatuques.

Body music pioneer and IBMF director Keith Terry's vision of a global musical shindig goes beyond trading rhythms or belly-slap techniques. It's about a cross-cultural conversation touching that visceral place that only the world's oldest instrument can reach. "Both the audiences and the artists are really moved," says Terry, a 2008 Guggenheim Fellow, the first to earn such an award in body music. "Everyone has basically the same instrument, yet the expression of culture through Body Music is so deep and unique, the experience of seeing them together really strikes people."

Oakland-based Slammin brings together inspired beatboxing, Terry's masterful, graceful body music, four soul-stirring vocalists, and three dancers deeply rooted in Jazz, Funk, R&B and World Music grooves. The ferocious ensemble is known for infectious harmonies and lightning-fast improvisations, punctuated by the kinetic soundtrack of the dancers.

Barbatuques has developed their unique "circle orchestra" of twelve musicians who rock out brilliant original compositions and stunning versions of samba and maracatu classics by moving and vocalizing. Although the two ensembles are from radically different cultural perspectives, they find fantastic parallels in the ways that they transpose instrumental music onto their bodies. Their collaboration is result of a three-year conversation between Keith Terry and Fernando Barba, director of Barbatuques and one of Brazil 's body music trailblazers. The two directors met thanks to YouTube. Their new works soulfully blend the funky, warm, urban soundscapes of Oakland and São Paulo , in percussive body music and voice.

In a more traditional tête-à-tête, Celina Kalluk and Lucie Idlout are cousins who sing Inuit vocal games from Canada 's arctic territory of Nunavut . To play, two partners sing into each other's mouths, only a few inches apart, and interweave breath and voice until one of them gets tripped up. The sound is so deep, simultaneously evoking ancient history and futuristic sonics of electronic music. Terry recalls the first time he heard Inuit throat games live, "Every tune ends in laughter, from either hyperventilation or losing the game. The singers laugh, and then the entire room would break into laughter." Celina and Lucie are a highlight of the IBMF-artists with a sound not heard often outside the Arctic -and some of the oldest body music on record.

From the African-American tradition comes hambone, perfected on the plantation when drums were prohibited, and later performed in vaudeville, with high-speed slaps to the thighs and chest as its musical palette.  Derique McGee, clown and hambone artist, has a youthful fascination that keeps this lightning-fast tradition alive and clapping.  He's taught innumerable kids in the San Francisco Bay Area their history through hambone, and gives an infectious performance.

Beyond the compelling history, musical variety, and physical artistry of body music, "It's really about being human. It's a very visceral connection with all these different people. We're all playing our bodies," Terry reflects. "I'm excited about all these styles going on around the world, and I'd like more people to see them and enjoy them. It's a reminder of our humanity on a very basic level."

The language of body music varies from culture to culture, but the core impulse is rooted in a deep artistic expression through the human body. Moroccans have their own way of clapping, producing pops with fingers spread. Sumatrans slap their bellies just so, in a way unheard elsewhere. In the crevices and curves of human existence, in the resonating chambers of the human body and soul, discoveries are made and brought to aural and visual awareness for celebrants worldwide.

The International Body Music Festival was founded in 2008 by Crosspulse and Artistic Director Keith Terry as a six-day festival in the San Francisco Bay Area with concerts, workshops, open-mic, educational outreach, and jam sessions.  The Third IBMF will be November 8-14 in São Paulo , Brazil , produced by Nucleo Barbatuques.  The IBMF Concert at Lincoln Center is a New York debut.