Christine Salem's Tradition in World Music Institute Show There was no mistaking the African roots of Christine Salem's new music - a tradition called maloya that has been honored by Unesco as part of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity - when she opened the World Music Institute's season on Friday night at Symphony Space. Ms. Salem (pronounced sah-LEM) sang in a robust contralto and, much of the time, shook a sugar-cane rattle called a kayamb that was a blur of motion as it pinpointed breakneck 6/8 rhythms. She was backed by only two other percussionists and harmony singers, David Abrousse and Harry Perigone. Christine Salem , a singer from the island of Réunion, embraced the African-rooted tradition of maloya at Symphony Space on Friday. They were playing songs for incantation and dancing, with forthright melodies, call-and-response vocals and kinetic beats sparked by layers of three-against-two. Her maloya is kin to music from across Africa and the African diaspora in places like Cuba, Haiti and Brazil: percussion-driven trance rituals to call down the spirits of gods or ancestors. One song, "Djinn," sketched the arc of a maloya ritual, starting with whistling and jungle sounds and accelerating through a suite of melodies and exhortations and wide-open cries. Ms. Salem's home is far from Africa or the Caribbean. She comes from Réunion, a French island in the Indian Ocean. Slaves were taken there from Mozambique and Madagascar to work the island's coffee and sugar-cane plantations. Slavery officially ended in Réunion in 1848, but the hard labor continued, and maloya survived as a force for celebration, complaint, political resistance and the unity of Réunion's Creole culture. Maloya was periodically banned by church and state - the most recent ban ended in 1981 - yet it persisted. Ms. Salem started her career singing pop, but a visit to a maloya trance ceremony led her to explore the tradition deeply. She writes her own songs, and her trio mixes traditional maloya instruments - the kayamb rattle, a round drum called the rouleur - with imports like West African djembe and a timbaleslike percussion kit. She sang mostly in Réunion Creole and in Swahili. Although there was little explanation in the program or from the stage (where Ms. Salem spoke largely in French), the lyrics were about the history and heritage of maloya, and about trance ceremonies and celebrations that make the spirits rejoice. Her finale, which also ends her 2012 album, "Salem Tradition" (Cobalt), was a South African song praising Nelson Mandela. While the particulars may not have crossed the language barrier, the essence of the songs was clear. It was in Ms. Salem's deep voice, suffused with ancestral memories and determination; it was in succinct modal melodies, built to be passed on through generations; it was in unstoppable drumming that, eventually, brought children up onstage to dance. It was music that testified, with powerful jubilation, to its own survival. The World Music Institute will feature Jorge Drexler on Tuesday night at the New York Society for Ethical Culture, 2 West 64th Street, Manhattan; (212) 545-7536, worldmusicinstitute.org.