A charismatic visit from ‘Mother Africa’

“Legendary” is a word too often misused and misinterpreted, especially in the entertainment world. But it would be unfortunate to deny its application to an artist such as Miriam Makeba, who richly deserves it.

The South African singer’s appearance Wednesday at Disney Concert Hall was a sterling example of the effect that the colorful chapters of her life story have had on her music -- an irresistible blending of craft, musicality and sheer entertainment charisma.

With a life history that is intimately connected to her native country, Makeba has been a singer, a humanitarian and a political activist.

After testifying against apartheid at the United Nations in 1963, she was exiled from South Africa, not returning until the ‘90s, when the end of apartheid allowed her to go back to her homeland as a free citizen.

Makeba -- often called “Mother Africa” -- has sung for President Kennedy and Pope John Paul II, for South African President Nelson Mandela, for French President Francois Mitterrand and for Fidel Castro. In 1986, she was awarded the Dag Hammarskjold Peace Prize.

At 72, she is now enhancing her performances with the fullness of maturity, bringing warm, multihued musical insights to material as old as her 1967 hit, “Pata Pata.”

Backed by an eight-piece ensemble, Makeba sang with her familiar, mesmerizing powers -- emotionally penetrating in her long, sustained high notes, darkly intimate in her deep chest tones, unexpectedly girlish in fragmentary musical asides.

The numbers embraced an array of languages, including “Mas Que Nada,” “West Wind,” “Masakhane” and “Comme une Symphonie D’Amour.”

Makeba also featured her granddaughter, Zenzi Lee, on two numbers -- the touching “Mama,” as well as a brisk romp through a lyricized version of Herbie Hancock’s “Dolphin Dance.” She ended the performance with a few high-spirited hip swings on “Pata Pata” and a brief encore of a cappella singing by her entire ensemble.

Unfortunately, Makeba was not well served by the sound in Disney Hall, the quality of which seems to vary according to the ensemble and the amplification. In this case, the entire program had the audio ambience of a concert in a high school auditorium. Her between-songs conversation with her audience, filled with wit and personal comments, was too often lost in a muddy reverb that obscured many of her soft-spoken remarks.

And that was a shame. “Legendary” performers, in the real sense of the word, turn up only rarely. But when they do, they deserve to be heard in the fullest manifestation of their artistry.