Jun 25, 2012
Femi Kuti, son of the late legendary Afro-beat musician turns 50 on July 16, 2012. . In this no holds bare interview, the only Nigerian based musician ever to be nominated thrice at the Grammy opened up on the day to day challenges of sustaining the legacies left behind by his late father. He also speaks on his relationship with women and how he was able to overcome the pains of separating from his ex-wife Funke. Excerpts:
What does fifty years mean to you; people say as a golden jubilee, it is supposed to make a man wiser?
Nothing, but I believe I'm wiser and more experienced in age and life but I'm indifferent towards it. Pertaining to celebration, some people are making it look like a glorious day because they appreciate my works, but to me, its just another day that will pass.
Regarding your career, can we talk about the high points of it?
There are so many of it. My first hit was "Wonder-Wonder" which won a lot of awards in Nigeria. I was the first Nigerian to win "KORA Award, "World-Music Award and some others. I believe I was the most appreciated Nigerian at the Grammy award even though I haven't won any yet. I have been nominated for a good number of awards too. I've toured extensively all around the world. I'm definitely in 'the fore front of Afro-beat. The period when "Bang-Bang-Bang" became an international hit, it opened so many doors especially to the new generations who did not know my father; they were now able to relate me and my works to him.
Even regarding sales too?
Well, I can't really say that about sales because it has dropped for everybody. One who used to have a sale of twenty million then should be happy and grateful if he can have a sale of two million now.
How about the low points?
That would include bad press, especially from some particular National newspapers. Once I was called and asked where I was in France, it was rumoured that I was running around the "Eiffel Tower" naked. I didn't bother to call them to clear the air; I think my sister (Funke) did. Also, my crashed marriage was as a result of the same bad press. I decided to keep quiet about it for the sake of my son but they fueled it by exaggerating the story.
The death of my sister would most likely be the lowest point of my life and my mother's death too because on that day, I had to play at Okoya's 60th birthday party. I was glad I was able to sail through but those two days were the worst days of my life.
How about the death of your father?
Not really, because my father was a celebrity. So it was more of celebration rather than a burial. The only sad thing is that he didn't get to see his grandchildren and give them a piece of advice for their career but it was not as regretful as that of my sister. My father lived a rather fulfilled life with 27 wives, fame and fortune. He was nothing short of the biggest star Nigeria ever had. So his death was not a regret but a celebration.
Faced with the reality of your father's death and as the first male of the family, how did things go for you?
His death was not something I was prepared for. Notwithstanding, he had been grooming me for a life after him so, I wasn't shocked. But as the days went by, the burden of the legacy that had been passed on to me dawned on me because the African tradition emphasizes on the male son to take over everything but luckily for me, my sister was very helpful.
What were the initial challenges?
The initial challenge was trying to get the "Shrine from the "Burlington's and when we could not get it, we immediately licensed his back-catalogue. If you remember then, a lot of his music was bootlegged because he was dead. We quickly convinced the family to give Universal Music the license because that was the only multinational organization that could sue and stop the bootleggers. They took a fast decisions so we would not loose licensing to back catalogue.
Convincing and keeping the family together became a major challenge because a lot of people wanted to separate the family, using Seun as an excuse to cause friction. I had to keep my band, tour and music career together as well. It wasn't easy but I learn that nothing good comes easy in life.
Talking about your Music, how much would you say it has grown in the last five years?
I think my next album would be a dynamite. From the Grammy nominations, you can see that if I wasn't progressing, I wouldn't have been nominated for that award. If "Bang-Bang" won the 'World Music nomination in 2001, 2010 and 2012, it shows that it's not the end of my career, I'm progressing and it is not just a flick. If it were to be that I had just one nomination, people would have said it was because I happened to be Fela's son or that I featured American artistes, but it wasn't so. I featured more of French artistes and had no American collaboration. The performances of the French artistes on my album was done in Lagos.
There was no technological enhancement. It was live from the studio. That shows that people appreciate what I'm doing and it is not easy to be nominated for awards. Femi Kuti has taken the Broadway to a different level and here, where it started, nothing much is happening but in Europe. My fear is that we would soon have a situation whereby they may not have services of the original owners of the music...
We should understand that Afro-Beat has become a global thing; it doesn't belong to just Nigeria anymore. The world appreciates the fact that it is Fela's creation and nobody runs away from that fact. So it can only keep growing. It is now going to have a new dimension and more branches.
The Afro-beat I play now is quite different from what Fela played and when my son (Made) who is being trained, makes his own album, whatever he plays is going to be different from what we both play but, he would still have the influence of his father and grandfather. As the years go by, it is not going to be done by Nigerians alone, other people would emerge.
I'm talking about the originators, nobody would be there to take over?
That's not true. I've seen a couple of bands that play Afro-beat. I cant remember their names but I know a good number play the same.
They may not be as known as myself and Seun but they do exist. It is just because the critics are over-critical, insisting that you must be like Fela. I once had a problem with these critics due to the fact that Seun acted more like Fela but I refused to act like him and it took me years; that is over a decade to convince Nigerians that you don't have to be like Fela to play Afro-beat. It was 'Bang-Bang-Bang' that opened their eyes to the fact that you can do something else with the Afro-beat and it has opened a whole new market that people are capitalizing on now.
You seem to have come back to where you started from, was that an experiment?
No, its all part of the going. When I did the work with most of those Hip-hop artistes in America, an opportunity came and I seized it. If another one comes by and I have to work with classical musicians, I would not hesitate. It is all part of growth and development of music.
What are those basic things in Afro-beat that makes it distinct from other genres of music, particularly when you do a collaboration with a Hip-hop artiste?
First, you must remember that Hip-hop came out of Afro-beat, so there are a lot of similarities between the two and merging is not a difficult task. The difference between Afro-beat and the rest is finding melodies for your rhythm and being political and sincere with your lyrics.
Is it really compulsory?
No it's not. 'Bang-Bang-Bang' showed it is not compulsory but that should be the major factor. If you want to hear a love song, people want the sincerity of that music kept in place, so when I play "Sorry-Sorry", people want to hear the frustrations of a young man regarding bad government.
You are looking very good, honestly, I'm quite impressed
Well, thank you. I try as much as possible not to stress myself at my age. Notwithstanding that I've been through so much, I have tried to live and stay healthy in the toil surrounding my life.
How has it been keeping a band together?
I've had to start up a new band for over five times now because of indiscipline among my band members. Sometimes, they refuse to understand the political message behind my music; building and maintaining the "Shrine" also. In all these cases, if you don't try to comport yourself, you might lose your head (laughing).
Lets talk about romance, is it dead?
No. You can see one of my beautiful girlfriends over there.
I mean 'wife', not 'girlfriend'...
I don't have to be married to be happy and I'm not getting married again. I can actually say I'm married and I don't necessarily have to call a Pastor to serve as a witness to it. I even consider that a low point on my integrity.
If I live together with a woman who has a child for me, in the African tradition, she is already my wife-that's common sense. I can say I'm married only that it is not documented which is preferable because if we start a fight, we don't have to go to a court; we can settle it amicably or just walk away from the relationship. I just got off the phone with Funke before you walked in. We talk about our son and other issues like we are still married but not legally married anymore.
But why is she not here?
She does not have to be here. She stays at her own house.
Asking as a friend now, do you sometimes miss her?
Like I said, I have no regrets and we are no longer married. But sometimes, I miss her. I'm the kind of person that gets up and picks his life back after a problem or else, it will kill you; not physically but mentally or psychologically. There were times we tried to come back together but it just didn't work. There were stronger forces against our coming back and I did not have the energy to keep on pleading for understanding. A lot of things changed but it is something nobody is bitter about now. We talk about the past but nobody accepts responsibility for the mistakes, so we just let it die down.
If she comes to you for sexual pleasure now, would you succumb?
Most likely not. (laughing)
What is your perception of the talent hunt show,'Next Afro-beat Star'?
I think it would be wonderful and fantastic if it is focused.
Femi Kuti, the first son of legendary musician, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, speaks with TUNDE AYANDA on his childhood days in Kalakuta Republic, relationship with his father, his regrets and how he never knew he would attain age of 50.
In a few days now you will be 50 years old, can we start by saying congratulations?
In fact, I need to be congratulated for that, reaching 50 here in Nigeria is not a joke. So, I think I deserve those congratulations.
50 is a milestone in a man’s life, do you feel excited hitting that age?
Last year, I was kind of excited that I would be 50 this year, but reaching the age now is no longer exciting because when I see the money I have to spend to celebrate it, I become depressed. I never thought I would live up to 50. For my kids, I’m happy that I’m alive to be there for them. When I look around me I can say I’ve lived a good life and I have no complaint really, but when I still look around and see that the things I believe in I don’t see them around me, the poverty is much, no electricity, the government utters things we don’t want to hear, I even wonder if we have a government, I’m very scared for the future of this country. Is it about Boko Haram that I should talk about? There is no discussion we hold that gives us hope that there is light at the end of the tunnel. I can’t say I’m happy because I don’t think there is a good future for us in this country, there is no security in my country, we still don’t have electricity. I can’t eat what I feel like eating, I can’t afford a good education for my children, then where is my happiness? Do I really want to be happy and combat all these problems in my future? With the way we are going, it’s likely we end up in a war, people are even talking of dividing Nigeria, that might be the case and I don’t see any cause to be happy with all what we have preached, what people have died for, the civil war...people are still talking garbage and when I look at it like that I don’t have any cause to be happy.
You said you did not expect to reach 50, but longevity runs in your family...
(cuts in) not much more than 50 years! My grandfather died at 55, Fela at 59. I’m not saying this because of my family. When I was young I was very reckless, so if you asked me in the 70s or 80s if I would live up to Year 2000, I would tell you ‘it looks so far.’ I was smoking a lot and I was an example of a real jaguda (rascal) then. I didn’t think I would have children, I didn’t think I would be where I am today and then suddenly things started changing in my life. I had my first son and this made a very big difference in my life. It made me start to think responsibly, and now that I have five other children the way I live my life is now different from the way I used to live then. I wasn’t thinking of living up to 50 because then my only responsibility was to take care of my mum. So, I was living daily, I was thinking my age then because when I was young and if you told me I would leave up to 50 I would tell you it’s far, because I had a very troublesome childhood, I was living in Kalakuta.
One would expect that when Fela was alive he would have wished you become a doctor or lawyer but you chose music, how did he feel?
Never! He wanted me to become a musician. He didn’t choose our careers for us, the only thing he did when I decided I wanted to be a musician was that he didn’t want to give me any form of education. He didn’t want me to read or write, he wanted to prove a point that I didn’t need any education to become successful. So, there was a big fight between him and his brothers and my mother who felt he was ruining my life. They were all against him because he wouldn’t even teach me the music, and he wanted me to be successful and this was a problem I had with him and we didn’t talk to each other for about six years. I told him ‘you know how to read and write, your father sent you to school, why won’t you send me to school?’ Everything I learnt came from the investigations I did on my own, practising on my own and finding my way, especially when I made the hit ‘Wonder, Wonder’, the issue came up again and Fela called everybody and told them they were all blaming him and he asked me ‘you that said I didn’t send you to school, are you not popular now? you can’t read, you can’t write music but you are successful, what is your problem?’ We all laughed and he could say he won, but I will never put my son through that trauma I passed through and I make sure my children get good education. Though I might be wrong judging him, because I felt I would have done more, had it been he allowed me to go to school, but I might be wrong, maybe my music would have been boring, maybe I wouldn’t be able to be dynamic and by the time I did Bang Bang, I couldn’t complain about anything again.
People tend to misjudge you, they can say you are wicked, harsh, crazy, and so on; how best can you describe yourself?
I’m very frank. People have this misrepresentation of me because there was a time I was in the bad books of a lot of journalists. They had a misconception about me and started writing horrible stories, I even went to their offices to fight them at that point in my career because I thought they were my friends. They even wrote I was mad and it got so bad that I was in the bathroom that I had to look in the mirror and asked, so, mo ti ya were? (so, I’m mad?). It was on their front-pages. I don’t want to talk about this again because we had settled it. Between 1999 and 2006, I experienced bad press and I cut away from talking to anybody and except you were very close to me, you would not know anything about me. I stopped socialising because when I go to parties people would start looking at me. When I picked up a glass to drink people would be looking at me wondering what I would do next with the glass, it was so bad! If I wasn’t strong I would have committed suicide and that formed the way people think about me unless you know me very well. There were some other untrue stories when I had problems with my wife that they wrote and said I used to lock her out, beat her and cut her water supply.
Looking back, what can you call your greatest achievement?
You will have to ask me that question in two ways, is it generally or professionally? If it’s generally, I will say my children, they are the only ones giving me satisfaction. These little ones are real terrors, they used to come on stage when I perform and entertain the crowd, they are so mischievous and I like it. My first son too, Made, is someone I love so much, I’m so proud of him. He is playing complicated classical music which I know my father would have done or me. If I can do that for my son I have every reason to be happy, he is doing well and I love all of them. What I’ve achieved musically did not give me the satisfaction my children are giving me.
Musically, what I want is to keep on producing good albums, if it’s achievement in my country I have it, I’ve won NMA (Nigerian Music Award, FAME award, Encomium Award and so many others I can’t even remember. Nobody ever gave me a chance in music, notwithstanding I was the first Nigerian to win the KORA award. I’ve also won the World Music, I was very naive about it because everybody was saying I must win Grammy, which they thought was bigger than the World Music, but they don’t know you cannot get anything than the World Music. Grammy is just an American award but is more popular, and I really wanted to win it till I realised that it isn’t as big as World Music which I’ve won already. I’ve done a lot, even in the Grammy. I know in the American power house they know me, they recognised me and I’ve been nominated three times. The first time, I even snubbed them, after the one I didn’t win, because right from Nigeria they have brainwashed me, telling me I would win; and when I didn’t win I was pained and walked out because I thought about all the cost and pains. With my reaction, I thought they would not recognise me in their awards again, and when I was nominated again I realised they were not biased. Now, I don’t go to their awards because I feel I’m too old to be getting excited for the awards. I’m not against the award but at 50, I can’t imagine myself going there and be pensive when they are announcing the winner. if I win it before I die I will put it with my other awards and be thankful. What is most important for me in life now are my children, my family and my music.
You spoke glowingly about your children, you love your family but you are not very lucky with marriages, are you pained by that?
Yes, I would say I was full of regrets then, but not anymore because if I am still in the marriage I won’t have other kids and I love them a lot. As much as I was broken-hearted, it has healed. There were many factors that surrounded the failure of the marriage. I won’t blame anybody. Somebody was telling me to write my autobiography and I said I can’t because in it I would speak a lot of truth that will hurt a lot of people and that isn’t my intention. Again, I would hurt my kids because I will have to say things about their mother which they won’t like. In writing an autobiography one must be very honest and I won’t want to expose anything about their mothers which will be from my own point of view- do I want to hurt my children even if I am right? I was very hurt when my marriage broke up, I was upset because I thought we had everything going. It wasn’t just a marriage of my wife and I, there were so many other factors and I blamed myself so much for being naive. People I call my friends were envious of the marriage, ‘why was I stupid not to realise my enemies were around me,’ I lived with that self-blame for a long time. I think I’m a very lucky person because I realise I can be successful without education. I can have a shrine that is doing well, people never gave me the chance; they were all like ‘Fela’s son? Ah! you can’t make it.’ It’s not my objective to be greater than my father, it never crossed my mind because I love my father. Nobody came to my concert, I couldn’t get a gig, nobody wanted to hear me sing and to have been where I am now, how can I complain? I still find happiness with my family.
You and your elder sister, Yeni, are very close. In fact, you live in the same house and you run the shrine together, how do you tag along running the same business?
We are like husband and wife. We are very close and I think the upbringing we had caused this. My parents would never tolerate any fight between us, my maternal grandmother would never take all these children’s fight over sweet or ice-cream, and because of all my father’s other wives and Kalakuta we were all forced to be close, from my mother’s side we were very close. When we lost our younger sister, Sola, it was so terrible. Even now, my sister and I used to cry for no reasons when we think about her, we missed her so much. Secondly, we are not materialistic, though Yeni likes clothes and all those women’s stuffs. I can wear this cloth forever, and she is always fighting me for wearing a cloth or shoe for a long time. There was a time I wore a pair of shoes for two years and she travelled to England and bought me shoes, but I still wore the old ones which made her rant. I am not materialistic, I don’t care seeing people wearing gold or diamond. Even the car I have, Yeni cleared my account to buy it.
You and your step brothers and sisters are not close as you and Yeni, especially in the case of Seun, why is this so?
It dates back from when we were young in Kalakuta and my mother’s overprotection. We lived with our mother and grand-mum because we were like outcasts in our father’s house. Fela was so rich but he didn’t spoil his children with his money. He would pay the school fees of other children but would not pay that of his children. We just learned to live with that. We grow up with that attitude and now we are still like that. Again, we always live together. So, it is normal seeing my sister and I living in the same compound, I love her so much. People expect we would be fighting over the income of the shrine but they don’t realise how close we are. I admire her courage a lot, we can’t fight over money; our upbringing makes it easy because we were the outcast in Fela’s family. He always wanted to please everybody while his family came second, but in my own case my family comes first and that is because I saw what happened in my father’s life and use that to correct it. Fela trusted everybody and he suffered it.
Seun and I cannot be as close as my sister and I because by the time our closeness started Seun was not born. I’m old enough to be his father, I’m like 22 years older than him, my father was only 24 years older than I. Don’t forget the conflict that happened between Seun and I. One day I came back and Yeni came to tell me Seun had come to apologise and that I should let the matter rest. If I wanted to be troublesome I would have said no. So many times Seun had been nasty and rude but because of maturity I’ve refused to judge him. I knew why he was doing it and the people behind it. Fine, he realised and came to apologise and he came through Yeni and she said she wants him to start playing here. He came and prostrated and I told him Anikulapos don’t prostrate. It was over and we are close but not as close as I and Yeni. Seun and I are close and he comes here everytime, I had a bitter childhood just like Yeni and this makes us very close. Despite us being Fela’s children, we used to take danfo to school and we enjoyed it because I realised if he had spoilt us, maybe I would have been a snub and will not care about poverty or electricity. I would have been in Motown ‘blowing’ grammar but I’m happy we tasted this and know how it is. I’m very sensitive in lecturing my children, they must understand the situation in this country.
The Lagos State Government have taken over Fela’s house...
They didn’t take over, they want to rebuild it and turn it to a museum. You know we didn’t have that kind of money and they offered to do it, but I wasn’t part of it because if they come to give me money and later they don’t do well, I will still abuse them.
Did your father’s name open doors for you?
It opened more doors than it closed but not with the rich people. Many of the girlfriends I used to have then, when we got to their homes and introduced ourselves as Fela’s children they would kick us out of their houses, saying ‘you cannot marry from us.’ We had many relationships that were not successful because we were Fela’s children. In the streets when they saw us they ran after us, and loved us. My wife’s parents didn’t want her to be with me and she ran away from home. It was when she had Made that we married and they were forced to accept her.
Growing up in such environment as Kalakuta, what were the experiences you had then?
I was arrested several times and beaten seriously, they used to beat me when they came to arrest him. I’ve been detained in Ikeja cantonment, Panti and other police stations. I’ve had my own share of it all. The biggest trauma was seeing my father in blood, they handcuffed his hand and legs and broke his skull and he bled. He was charged with armed robbery then.
Jun 22, 2012
Every new Afro Latin Vintage Orchestra album is a big step forward. Their first release, Definitely Roots, released in 2009, marked the beginning of the adventure led by percussionist and producer Masta Conga, blending many styles - sometimes in the same track - from afrofunk, to latin or ethio grooves, jazz or reggae… The following year, Paris DJs extracted Kingston Abeba from this LP for their cult 21st Century Afro Extravaganza mix. In 2011 the band released Ayodegi, aptly subtitled A Modern Afro-Fusion Ensemble, an instrumental affair, rooted in 70s jazz-funk. It's now followed by this third album, Last Odyssey, to be released on Ubiquity Records mid-july 2012. This long player is the result of Masta Conga's alchemist' work, who first recorded his percussion parts, then added Jean Luc Riga's double bass and Max Hartock's drums, then later Elvis Martinez Smith's guitars and Benjamin Peyrot des Gachons's keys, and a couple of months afterwards the violins, horns, flute and vocals… Sounding like deep and groovy black jazz with a timeless universality, this album is heavily recommended to all jazz fans who'll peel it off year after year!
Afro Latin Vintage Orchestra's new album Last Odyssey finds the French band in fine form, creating music with Jazz as it's foundation laced with strains of Ethio and Nigerian Funk combined with Latin Percussion and rhythms. By taking the "heaviest" elements from each genre and distilling it down to it's most potent form, the band's true identity is revealed and sets them apart from their influences.
Founded in 2007 with a rotating cast of members and ranging in size from a 20 piece band to 12 that contributed to this album, the core musicians consists of 6 members: Masta Conga (perc), Benjamin Peyrot Des Gachons (keyb), Elvis Martinez Smith (guitar), Philipe Vernier (sax), Jb Feyt (trumpet) and David Battestini Quadri (double bass). At it's heart is Masta Conga who's the designated ring leader and primarily responsible for the concept and production of this album. "ALVO is not a classic group which repeats, It is a space of creation all around of various revolving musicians according to projects." says Masta Conga.
Having released 2 well-received albums previously, Definitely Roots in 2009 and Ayodegi in 2011, which were both primarily live recordings, ALVO took a different approach to the creation of the new record with Masta Conga recording the rhythm base for the tracks then adding each element in the studio as each musician came in for their session, "This method consists of a new shape of writing music for me. Less spontaneous, more thought....We have a clear rythmic base but we do not know what we are going to create. The result is a surprise".
01. Petrof Sublimation
02. Onze De France
03. Hip Hop Definition
04. Gibbon's Dub
05. Requiem Pour Un Grooveur
06. Buffet Froid
07. Last Odyssey
08. Dimension 7
11. Spoken Wild
13. Latin Break
Labels: Afro Latin Vintage Orchestra
Jun 15, 2012
Born in a Brooklyn warehouse in 1997, 12-piece ensemble Antibalas is credited with introducing Afrobeat to a wider global audience, influencing countless musicians and developing a live show that is the stuff of legend. The group has performed everywhere from Central Park to Carnegie Hall to Rikers Island Prison, and that's just in New York. On the heels of the hit musical FELA!, which several members collaborated on, Antibalas has reunited with former member and producer Gabe Roth, who was at the helm for their first three albums. Daptone Records is set to release the band's first album in five years, self-titled, on August 7.
Inspired by economic meltdowns and global uprisings, Antibalas piled into two rooms at Daptone's House of Soul Studios in Bushwick, Brooklyn to cut an explosive new set of afrobeat classics. "Dirty Money" launches the propulsive six-song LP with deep, pulsating rhythms, monstrous horns and tight funk. Lead singer Amayo - a native of Lagos, Nigeria and senior Kung Fu master - guides the band through cathartic workouts of call and response, dynamic instrumentals and eruptive solos.
01. Dirty Money
02. The Rat Catcher
03. Him Belly No Go Sweet
04. Ari Degbe
06. Sare Kon Kon
Labels: Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra
Jun 13, 2012
Thanx to Chris May for the permission to re-post these series!!!
Read the full article at allaboutjazz.com.
Part 25 - Ben Zabo: It's a Blinder - But It's Not Afrobeat
The extraordinary success of the musical Fela!, and the resurgence of interest in all things Fela Kuti, has made "Afrobeat" a popular buzzword among label publicists. The invocation is often fanciful; albums claiming to be Afrobeat releases regularly land at Afrobeat Diaries which have little, if anything, to do with the music.
The latest such arrival is from the Malian group Ben Zabo. "Malian Afrobeat may be two words that you don't hear together very often," chimes the press release, "but 2012's most exciting new Afrobeat band may well be hailing from Bamako, Mali."
An exciting new Afrobeat band may, indeed, be hailing from Bamako in 2012. Here's hoping. But it is not Ben Zabo, whose connection to the music—instrumentally, rhythmically and structurally—is, in any meaningful sense, nonexistent.
That is one reason why Ben Zabo is being reviewed in this column, which does what it can to protect Kuti's legacy.
The other reason is that Ben Zabo is a blinder, and, while it is not Afrobeat, it is likely to be enjoyed by Afrobeat enthusiasts. Unlike much of the Malian music that has acquired an international audience—which tends to be understated and introspective (the desert blues of guitarist Ali Farka Toure is representative)—Ben Zabo's music is hot and raucous. That much it shares with Afrobeat.
The 24-page liner booklet tells us it also shares Kuti's polemical lyrics. In the absence of any liner translations (Zabo sings in Bomu), most listeners will have to take that on trust. Zabo is from Mali's ethnic minority group the Bwa; his album is said to be (and may actually be) the first international release by a Malian of Bwa descent singing in his mother tongue. That is to be welcomed, and lyric translations would take nothing away from it.
Kuti avoided the need for translations with his use of Broken English, an inspired innovation. He composed and sang in the language so that his message could be understood widely in Africa, and beyond it, not just by Yoruba speakers. For good measure, he printed the Broken English lyrics on his album sleeves. If Zabo's lyrics really are as pertinent and educative as Kuti's, why not make them accessible to non-Bomu speakers?
Musically, most of Ben Zabo is up-tempo and ferocious, a mix of Bwa rhythms and melodies, rock and a little blues and funk. The killer track is "Cinquantenaire," which, presumably, celebrates Mali gaining independence from France in 1960. There are gritty cross-rhythms and steaming balafon and tenor saxophone solos. "Sènsènbo," again featuring balafon, is almost as good, and the opener, "Wari Vo," on which the tenor saxophone is augmented by an (uncredited) trumpet, is not far behind. Pace and temperature lessen only at the album's midpoint, on "Dimiyan," an anthemic ballad resonant of Senegalese veterans Touré Kunda.
Ben Zabo rocks. But it is not Afrobeat.
1. Wari Vo
2. Sènsènbo (Hommage à Dounaké Koita)
6. Bwa Iri
7. Ya Be Ma'e
Jun 4, 2012
When he rolled into Detroit's historic Fox Theater in November, 1986, Fela Kuti had been out of prison less than a year. He never should have been in prison in the first place; he'd been jailed in 1984 by the government of coup leader Major-General Muhammadu Buhari on trumped-up currency charges. Fela was an outspoken opponent of Buhari, as he had been of Nigeria's other coup-installed dictators before, and his imprisonment was an attempt to silence him. It backfired. Amnesty International launched a worldwide campaign for Fela's release, and then Buhari himself was overthrown by another coup, this one led by Ibrahim Babangida. Babangida pardoned Fela and actually brought Kuti's older brother, Beko, into his administration as Health Minister.
Fela opens the concert captured on Live in Detroit 1986 with a short monologue that directly references his wrongful imprisonment. "In my country," he says, "Things happen just like that…You go your own way, mind your own business, next thing I know I'm in prison, man, just like that." It's part of a nicely rhythmic build-up to the song "Just Like That", a song that continues the litany of arbitrary ills that Fela laments can befall an average Nigerian (he generalizes it to all of Africa, too), wrapping them in recollections of Nigeria's devastating 1967-1970 Civil War.
This version of "Just Like That" is half an hour long, which makes it by some distance the shortest workout on this set, which was taped by Bob Teagan at the Fox and is just now seeing release. The set is only four songs long, but it sprawls for nearly two and a half hours spread over three discs. Honestly, it could have fit on two discs without changing the running order, so I'm not sure why there are three. Fela's last band, Egypt 80, was a pretty different animal from Africa 70, which is the band most people are familiar with from its funky, forceful, and relatively compact masterpieces "Zombie", "Water No Get Enemy", "Expensive Shit", and "Roforofo Fight", among others. Egypt 80 emphasized jazz over funk, for one thing, and indulged in long, spacy jams built around hypnotic grooves.
The performance flows very freely through the four songs, each of which is introduced with a pointed, and usually pretty funny, monologue from Fela, whose facility with sarcasm was just about unparalleled in his day. Kuti engages his audience, teaching them short Yoruban phrases for call-and-response passages (and admonishing them to pronounce Yoruban words like Africans-- "We Africans talk with our whole mouths"), and these sections of long tracks make for good contrasts with the rhythm section's coolly funky vamping and the lead instrumentalists' winding solos.
It is a mostly great show, though not all dynamite. "Confusion Break Bones" wanders through one section so bizarrely discordant that it almost sounds like each instrument in the rhythm section is playing a different song at the same tempo, but it's a few minutes out of 40, and works in its own kind of freaky way. One of the show's highlights comes near its end, as "Beast of No Nation" thumps out of a big, full-band crescendo and settles on this amazing, bass-led rhythm that's so compelling on its own no one bothers to play anything over it. It gets the audience, already obviously engaged and even familiar with some of the material, really pumped. Listening to it off a very well-recorded audience tape is of course different from being there, and as a listening experience, this show is perhaps best taken a disc at a time. Still, whether heard whole or in pieces, it captures one of Fela's less appreciated phases and finds him still brimming with piss and vinegar two trying decades into his crusading career.
For Fela Kuti, 1986 was a crucial year. In April, he was finally released from prison in Nigeria after serving nearly two years for currency trafficking, after Amnesty International had declared the outspoken musical rebel to be a political detainee. He had been arrested as he was leaving for the US; at last that tour could go ahead, with Fela in predictably fiery form. This double album, recorded at Detroit's Fox Theatre in November 1986, is his first "new" release since his final studio album 20 years ago, and provides an exhilarating reminder of his power as a live performer. There are only four songs, stretched over nearly two and a half hours. Fela eased between funky keyboard work, saxophone solos, and cool chanting vocals on songs that included the furious Just Like That, the cool jazz of Confusion Break Bones, and the strident and angry Teacher, Don't Teach Me Nonsense. This was Fela on classic form.
As a format, the live album serves numerous purposes: memento for fans of a concert recently attended, historical document of an important point in a band’s career. But, all too often, it’s a cynical cash cow to fleece the faithful. The best, however, make you wish you’d attended the concert in question. So it is with Live in Detroit, a recently exhumed 1986 recording from the first American tour by king of afrobeat Fela Kuti’s final band, Egypt 80, a year after he was freed from a bogus sentence for smuggling in his home country of Nigeria.
The memory of his incarceration is clearly fresh for Fela as he introduces the first song, Just Like That. "In my home country," he says, "They can put you in prison, just… like… that…" The song’s theme wouldn’t have been lost on the audience; while no corrupt militaristic hell-hole like Fela’s Nigeria, the Detroit of 1986 was a neglected, decaying post-industrial ghost-town. The recording’s bootleg roots – heavy with reverb, capturing the crackle and buzz of the audience – lend the music an electric presence.
Just Like That is the first of four songs over two-and-a-half hours, which won’t surprise Fela aficionados: his albums typically chased a single tune across one or both sides of vinyl. Still, not a moment is wasted. While Fela’s 80s output isn’t quite as fiery as his work with Africa 70 – there’s nothing here as blistering as the agit-bleat of ITT or Original Sufferhead – the slow-burn of the material is every bit as insurgent, as life-affirming.
The lengthy track times – Just Like That is the shortest, at just under a half-hour; a seething Confusion Break Bones boils away for over 40 minutes – are part of this music’s power, as Fela and band coax their grooves into meditative, conversational exchanges and roaring, intense peaks.
Witness Just Like That’s crescendos, saxophone solos writhing between blasts of righteous horns, Fela and his wives scattering chants between the polyrhythms, carving a martial funk from the chaos. Or the infernal slow build of the closing Beasts of No Nation, translating anger and pain into the sweetest, most-bristling, most-ecstatic party music. You’ll wish you’d been there. You’ll wish it would never end.
Detroit in the 1980s wasn’t a place many people wanted to visit. With racial strife and collapsing industry having critically hemorrhaging it through the middle of the 20th century, the Motor City was a stagnant mess of derelict buildings and crime-ridden neighbourhoods. It was in such a bad way that when the movie RoboCop came out, there was an understood realism to the violent dystopia in the film. Fela Kuti, however, was someone undeterred. In 1986, the Afrobeat pioneer played a show at Detroit’s historic Fox Theatre. Recorded with his band at the time, Egypt ’80, it’s now being released as an album by Knitting Factory Records.
The set captured on Live In Detroit: 1986 is a fantastic encapsulation of Kuti’s many aspects. It is first and foremost an astounding musical feat. Never one for brevity in his music, the entire concert is comprised of 4 sprawling tracks, each a polyrhythmic tapestry showing off each part of the Afrobeat sound. Long free form jazz structure, driving and hypnotic beats, call and response vocals, all overlayed with intense bursts of talented individual musicianship; the sheer energy of the music on the album shows that this no ordinary gig, but a clinic on the style Kuti helped create.
Also on display throughout the album is Fela Kuti the activist. Before every song, he talks vaguely on a topic of social justice that would not seem out of place in either an African dictatorship or impoverished swathes of the United States. The opening musings are particularly interesting, as Kuti speaks about the sudden and negative changes that can befall a person (“You’re going on your way, mind your business, don’t do shit, don’t do nothing. Next thing you know you’re in person. Just. Like. That.”). All in all, this expansive release does a great job of summarizing the figure of Fela Kuti for a public just rediscovering him.
On November 7, 1986, Fela Kuti played live in Detroit as part of his first international tour with the Egypt 80. He had tried two years previously but the plan had been foiled by a dubious arrest over ‘currency trafficking’ and his subsequent imprisonment. His freedom came only after an Amnesty International campaign for his release. Fela’s international tour then became an opportunity, as Amnesty saw it, to expose human rights abuses in Nigeria through Fela’s music.
Several bootleg recordings were made of the Detroit gig. This release by Knitting Factory Records was the best quality.
Most valuably captured in the recording is Fela Kuti the activist, displayed through his pre-song musings. “Me goin’ my own way, my own business”, says Fela of his arrest. The crowd whoop as he performs a piece of visual comedy lost to the listener. “Don’t do shit, don’t do nothing… next thing I know I’m in prison man, just like that. In my country, things happen just like that. Just like when you watching television or something… they take power man, just like that.”
Western style democracy, according to Fela doesn’t work in Nigeria – “democracy? dem-a-crazy!”. “White man ruled us for many years, we have constant electricity.” But then things change, ‘Just Like That’. ‘Just Like That’ is probably the catchiest song on this release, and carries a powerful warning of how unpredictable Fela’s Nigeria has become. Each member of the Egypt 80 has their moment in the spotlight as Fela Kuti the bandleader dictates the pace. Half an hour of energy, then, just like that, it all ends.
‘Teacher Don’t Teach Me Nonsense’ displays a slower, jazzier style of afrobeat, strongly reminiscent of Fela’s better known ‘Water Get No Enemy’. “Culture, tradition, Western democracy, African dem-o-crazy, corrupt university, corrupt school, corrupt teacher” – at a later point in the concert, Fela takes the crowd through the stages of knowledge as it filters down from a colonial past to the streets of Nigeria. Also featured on the album are ‘Beasts Of No Nation’ (“I’m talking about leaders who act like animals”) and ‘Confusion Breaks Bones’, two reflections of Fela’s time in prison.
Fela Kuti, the outspoken Nigerian originator of afrobeat, began his highly-anticipated tour of the U.S. in the fall of 1986, two years behind schedule. It wasn’t his fault. Arrested by the Nigerian government in 1984 at the Lagos airport en route to America, Fela spent the next eighteen months in jail on a trumped-up currency charge. When he did finally arrive stateside for his first full-band appearances in over sixteen years, he was showered with public and critical acclaim. In retrospect the ‘86 tour marked the high point of Fela’s international career. No commercially available recordings from the tour have been available until now. Thanks to a fan who recorded an appearance at Detroit’s Fox Theater we can now hear Fela and his band Egypt 80 thrill the audience in a venue that once hosted legendary Motown performers.
There is plenty of music here: almost two and a half hours-worth comprised of four songs, each averaging over thirty minutes. “Just Like That,” “Confusion Break Bone,” “Teacher, Don’t Teach Me Nonsense,” and “Beasts of No Nation,” unrecorded at the time, are all solid examples of Fela’s 1980’s sound. The band features twenty musicians, including an eight-piece horn section, along with four background singers and six dancers. The four songs follow roughly the same pattern. Beginning with a slow, scintillating percussion groove layered with guitars, the songs unfold at a relaxed pace as complex arrangements of background voices and horns weave in and out. Fela contributes sparse but effective electric organ as well as sax solos. His vocals begin well into each track and are performed in Nigerian pidgin (though he addresses the crowd in standard English). Background vocals serve as a provocative counterpoint. A section of audience participation via call and response is a regular feature of each song.
Compared to Fela’s earlier work Afrika 70, the energy level of this performance is cool versus hot. The lyrics from this period are less sarcastic and event-driven. Instead, Fela addresses broad topics, such as lingering colonialism in “Teacher, Don’t Teach Me Nonsense.” Some speculate that the year and a half spent in jail before the tour, as well as the severe beating he received from soldiers in 1981, caused Fela to become more introspective. This might account for the trance-like quality of the arrangements and the somewhat solemn mood of the music overall.
The sound quality of the recording, often a weakness in bootleg recordings, is excellent. Though some PA buzzing is audible at the very beginning of some tracks, it quickly disappears once the music starts. Fela’s signature political discourses during and between songs are held to a minimum, in part because the sections between songs have been left out.
Though he never reached the level of commercial success warranted by his artistic achievement, Fela remains an international icon, continuing to influence and inspire artists today. As a document of his most important U.S. tour, Live in Detroit, 1986 is significant and well worth hearing.
These days, rebellion in music often constitutes idiotic stunts with various offshoots of intoxication, and any political commentary is a carefully-plotted part of the publicity campaign for some new product. Fela Kuti (1938 – 1997) was the real deal, forever railing against the repressive actions of various military-led governments in his native Nigeria, and paying a heavy price for his troubles. This 1986 performance at Detroit’s Fox Theatre was recorded on a US tour that was delayed by two years due to Fela’s imprisonment on bogus charges – a good example of the harassment, beatings and generally extremely unpleasant hassle he was regularly served by the Nigerian authorities.
Crucially, Kuti had the sense to marry his political activism to some of the most intoxicating music ever created. As the bandleader of first Africa 70 and then Egypt 80 (featured here), Fela played a key part in cooking up the hugely influential polyrhythmic nirvana that is Afrobeat, a hypnotic blend of James Brown’s sweaty funk, loose-limbed African rhythms and the boundless exploration of jazz that – together with Fela’s incendiary lyrics and sloganeering – created some of the most successful protest songs in existence.
As such, the first official release of this much-bootlegged live recording from November 1986 (the first new Fela produce since 1992’s Underground System) is a drool-inducing prospect. Get past the amazingly vibrant opener, call-and-response epic ‘Just Like That’, however, and a problem emerges. Fela and his orchestra are on nothing short of top form here, but they appear to have lost any sense of proportion when it comes to the time it’s decent to dedicate to a single groove. Live in Detroit 1986 comprises four tracks: the double CD clocks in at 140 minutes. This might seem like a daft criticism of an artist whose album tracks often clocked in at 20 minutes each, and one whose Best Of compilation contains 10 minute edits. But do the maths, and it’s obvious we’re in for a very long haul indeed here.
The marathon workouts don’t matter one bit as long as the raw materials at hand are strong enough to withhold such extended exposure: ‘Just Like That’ goes on for a neat half an hour, but could easily double that without anyone objecting. Likewise ‘Teacher Don’t Teach Me Nonsense’ – not one of Fela’s most infectious cuts, perhaps, but sweet enough to sustain interest for 25 minutes. Problems start when the proceedings move to selections from Fela’s B-list. The tracks here are drawn from his final studio albums (all tunes were still unreleased at the time of this performance – Fela didn’t do “the hits”). Even the biggest Fela fanatic would hesitate to claim this was the most fruitful phase of his career, with the razor-sharp grooves of the legendary 1970s cuts giving way to a looser, less hook-laden approach that at times struggled to build a compelling momentum. Governments rise and fall, fashions change, tectonic plates move several inches towards each other: Fela and his band are still working their way through the 40 minutes of ‘CBB (Confusion Break Bones)’.
This slow-burning jam must have been thrilling to witness: the excitement of the audience is palpable. Taken in at a 25 years’ remote, though, and it’s hard not to feel similar frustration as with, say, live Neil Young guitar solo epics at their least inspired. You can half-imagine members of the band struggling with their conscience, trying to decide whether or not they’ve the courage to suggest that the boss moves on to the next tune as this one’s well and truly exhausted.
01. Just Like That
02. Confusion Break Bones
03. Teacher Don't Teach Me Nonsense
04. Beast of No Nation