tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69523101605201260802024-03-13T12:52:07.764+01:00afrobeat, afrofunk, afrojazz, afrorock, african boogie, african hiphop ..."Afrobeat will be one of the musics of the future" - Miles Davismr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.comBlogger1009125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-63228850976355233862022-01-10T10:49:00.002+01:002022-01-10T10:49:25.159+01:00From Capo Verde: Bitori<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIU91Uk6KHKWl1EScqcT2B4s89N5vAWFqoq-GDmZqH594FOomd1j0ljU5SGRDCrE5nlBbgIjF_y9TG5Md-a3bKUuPDYAjCEyxGs41GKDcMXFey6xwCtjshZK0UA2fKKKImeY2TrzjfJlLX5WF2KAx79j__kl0b6n4_Uu0ogN2cc8qkBnWpGvCvhzTp=s225" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIU91Uk6KHKWl1EScqcT2B4s89N5vAWFqoq-GDmZqH594FOomd1j0ljU5SGRDCrE5nlBbgIjF_y9TG5Md-a3bKUuPDYAjCEyxGs41GKDcMXFey6xwCtjshZK0UA2fKKKImeY2TrzjfJlLX5WF2KAx79j__kl0b6n4_Uu0ogN2cc8qkBnWpGvCvhzTp=w331-h331" width="331" /></a></div><p>In 1997, a quiet, unassuming man of 59 years old named Victor Tavares -
better know as Bitori - walks into a studio for the very first time to
record a masterpiece which many Cabo Verdean consider to be the best
Funaná album ever made.
<br />
<br />
Bitori's musical adventure had begun long before this point. It was 1954
when he embarked on a journey across the seas to the island of Sao
Tomé & Principe. The young man's hope was to return to Cabo Verde
with an accordion.
<br />
<br />
Following two years of hard labour Bitori had succeeded in saving enough
money to acquire what was to become his most valued possession, his
cherished instrument. The two month journey back to Santiago, his island
of birth, proved time enough to master it. Self taught, Bitori
developed his own style, an infectious blaze, that quickly caught the
attention of the older generation. Before long Bitori was being asked to
share his musical talents, igniting the local festivities around Praia
with his music.
<br />
<br />
But not everybody welcomed the rural accordion-based sound. Perceived as
a symbol of the struggle for Cape Verdean independence and frowned upon
as music of uneducated peasants, Funaná was prohibited by the
Portuguese colonial rulers<span class="bcTruncateMore">.
Performing it in public or in urban centres had serious consequences -
often jail time and torture awaited musicians that were “caught in the
act”. In light of such persecution the genre of Funaná began to slowly
disappear.
<br />
<br />
In 1975 Cabo Verde achieved independence from Portuguese colonial rule.
Along with Cabo Verde’s independence came a lifting of the ban placed on
Funaná. The musical repercussions in Cabo Verde were plenty - many
upcoming artists embraced Funaná, translating and adapting its musical
form in new ways. It was not to be until the mid-1990’s, however, that
Funaná in its traditional form was actually recorded.
<br />
<br />
It was a young singer from Tarafal, Chando Graciosa, who was to play a
key role in this event. Upon hearing Bitori, Graciosa immediately felt
drawn to Bitori's unique playing style - a raw and passionate sound
accompanied by honest lyrics that reflected the harsh reality of the
Cabo Verdean working class. He eagerly approached Bitori suggesting they
join forces and travel overseas with the objective of taking Funaná
beyond its rural roots. The two of them, with others in tow, achieved
their goal and travelled to Europe, introducing a receptive European
audience to the vibrant energy of Funaná. Eventually Bitori returned to
his beloved Cabo Verde. Graciosa opted to settle in Rotterdam in order
to pursue his career - he vowed, however, to bring Bitori across to
Holland at a later date to record an album.
<br />
<br />
In 1997 the time was ripe to immortalise the sound Bitori had shaped
over a time span of four decades. Built around a formidable rhythm
section, formed of drummer Grace Evora and bass player Danilo Tavares,
"Bitori Nha Bibinha" was recorded. The recording catapulted Chando
Graciosa to stardom, making him Cabo Verde's No.1 interpreter of
Funaná.
<br />
<br />
The success in Cabo Verde was phenomenal and Funaná rapidly gained the
recognition it deserved, especially in urban dance clubs. Bitori's songs
quickly became standards - classics known and loved throughout the
country. The musical success, however, was solely limited to the Cabo
Verdean islands - until now!
</span></p><p><span class="bcTruncateMore">
Analog Africa is proud to contribute to the worldwide promotion of
Funaná - the once forbidden sound of the Cabo Verde archipelago - by
releasing a worldwide re-issue of Bitori and Chando Graciosa's legendary
recording. </span></p><p><span class="bcTruncateMore"><b><a href="https://analogafrica.bandcamp.com/album/legend-of-funana-the-forbidden-music-of-the-cape-verde-islands">analogafrica.bandcamp.com</a></b></span></p><p><span class="bcTruncateMore"> </span>- - - - </p><p>In 1998, Victor Tavares, known as <a class="external" href="https://www.facebook.com/BitoriMusic/" target="_blank"><strong>Bitori</strong></a>, released an album of what is considered to be the very best <em>Funana</em> music to date, <a class="external" href="https://soundcloud.com/analog-africa/bitori-bitori-nha-bibinha" target="_blank"><em>Bitori Nha Bibinha</em></a>. <em>Funana</em>
is a form of Cape Verdian music which was stigmatised as inferior by
colonial society, despite being borne from it. Bitori spent an entire
life playing and invigorating his beloved <em>funana</em> against the odds, with a <em>gaita</em> diatonic accordion; he recorded <em>Bitori Nha Bibinha</em> at 59. <a class="external" href="https://analogafrica.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">Analog Africa</a> has re-released Bitori’s chef d’oeuvre as <em>Legend of Funana</em>, allowing old and new listeners to engage with Bitori’s grand moment of musical and postcolonial cultural triumph, once again.
</p><p>Though this album was recorded in Rotterdam, its compositions take on the shape of mid/late 20<sup>th</sup>
century Cape Verde. In every instrument we hear the spirit of women in
headscarves at marketplaces, working to raise their families; open air
conversations on rocky dirt roads amongst battered houses, and lookouts
to a new horizon and ways out for a society during and after
colonialism.</p><p>Bitori’s accordion playing is raw, humorous, lengthy, and aims to be
magnificent. It has the sound of a passionate, romantic, existence.
“Legend of Funana” is incredibly rhythmic and never once does its
rhythmic section, comprised of drumming and bass, allow our attention to
wander. The album’s first song is “Bitori Nha Bibinha,” the title of
the song of this album’s first incarnation, <em>Bitori Nha Bibinha. </em>It
is a song that asks its listener to dance. Every instrument aims to
make a strong impression, though Bitori’s accordion is loudest.</p>
It is an album of eight songs in total. The song “Natalia” mirrors
the personality of a young woman, perhaps named Natalia. Language here
is a barrier, but the song’s rhythm and raw accordion playing sounds
surprisingly familiar, as if a portrait and landscape of the life of a
young woman in a country where it is sunny, but there hasn’t been enough
capitalist development to preoccupy a soul with professionalism and
middle class rectitude. “Natalia’s” hand clapping is superb. “O Julinha”
is a second song with a woman’s name, and this time the song seems to
express the personality of a much quieter woman, to a ‘O, Julinha,’ that
can only be a lament in any language. It’s a superb listen and a
serenade that will warm the heart with its musical edge and rhythm
anywhere in this world.<p>This album’s vocalist is Chando Graciosa. His voice is strong,
memorable, and sounds like that of a leader at a country fair or
carnival: of large, communal activity. His singing style wows as much as
the timbre of his voice; it sounds like that of a society passionately
attempting to organise itself in the best way through communal culture.
Miroca Paris, this album’s background vocals, is also phenomenal.</p>
<p>According to Britannica.com, a legend is a “traditional story or
group of stories told by about a particular person or place.” Folktales,
on the other hand, are not specifically about a particular person or a
place that has existed or is still in existence. Like music, they allow
our minds to run wild about the world around us by engaging our senses. A
legend put to music should be doubly exciting then, if composed and
performed to both legend and music. Tavares did not initially intend for
his album to be a legend, but the fact that he is such a figure in Cape
Verde’s music does make it so that the second title is appropriate – it
is an album that engages as both a legend (that of a courageous and
talented man who stood propelled indigenous culture) and as brilliant
music.</p><p><b><a href="http://www.rhythmpassport.com/articles-and-reviews/album-review/album-review-bitori-legend-of-funana-analog-africa-july-22-2016/">rhythmpassport.com</a></b> </p><p>- - - - </p><p>“Bitori Nha Bibina” is a joyous onslaught of accordion, metallic
rhythms and call and response singing, led at the time of its 1997
recording by a 59-year-old man who had struggled awfully hard to be
there. Bitori, in real life Victor Tavares, had made the 2300 plus mile
trip from his native Cabo Verde to Sao Tome and Principe some 40 years
before, seeking to earn enough money to buy the accordion he plays with
such glee. Two years to buy the instrument, two more months to bring it
home, Bitori accepted it all in order to learn the rural traditional
style known as Funaná. At first he worked in the underground since the
music was banned by colonial government, later, after independence in
1975, as celebration of Cabo Verde’s heritage, a blend of Portuguese and
African influences.</p>
<p>his collection of songs, which features Bitori on accordion, the
singer Chando Gracioso, Grace Evora on drums and Danilio Tavares on
bass, catches him in exuberant form, layering short, repetitive riffs
over swaying syncopations of drum, kit, cowbell and scratched and shaken
percussion. The music is clearly meant for celebration, and you can
hardly resist its call to sway and shimmy, yet there’s something
melancholy, too, in the hoarse, emotive vocals and the slippery thrum of
accordion. It’s an escape hatch, maybe, from the kind of world where
two years hard labor might be seen as a fair trade for the axe that
feeds your art, and where, famous many years later, you tour the world
in your 70s, playing the scrappy songs of youth to people who have never
been to your island nor will.</p><p><b><a href="https://blurtonline.com/review/bitori-legend-funana-forbidden-music-cape-verde-islands/">blurtonline.com</a></b> </p><p> - - - - </p><p>20 years ago, Victor Tavares (aka Bitori) took his gaita- the diatonic
accordion first brought to Cape Verde by the Portuguese- and laid down 8
tracks of smoking hot Funana grooves in a Rotterdam studio. The results
ultimately rocked Santiago Island and the rest of the Cape Verde
archipelago. And now those results, considered as good a recorded
example of the style as any, driven by Bitori's accordion and
underpinned by bass, percussion, and the constant metallic scrape of the
ferrinhu, are seeing western release, leading to the always reluctant
79 year-old Bitori's decision to perform once again.
</p><p>
Funana is one of several rhythms specific to Santiago, and a musical
style that was banned pre-independence, only becoming prominent in the
late 1970s and 80s. It's likely modern, considering how many centuries
ago the Portuguese first populated Cape Verde. So, like accordion and
percussion-driven Cajun and creole music in Southwest Louisiana, ripsaw
bands in Turks and Caicos, as well as similar styles in the Bahamas,
this is 20th century stuff. Groove-wise, this record burns, and the
rhythm section adds a buoyancy that lifts it from porches and streets
and into clubs. Video of Bitori from 2016 onstage attests to the ability
this music has to move asses. A listener with a sense of geography but
no immediate sense of musical geography will hear the Caribbean. Or
perhaps Mauritius and Reunion. It simply has the feel that comes from
islands with colonial history and the imported, multi-cultural
populations that get dragged to these places thanks to white people with
endless amounts of arrogance and nerve. It's the sound of people who
are themselves ethnic hybrids, snagging the instruments and even rhythms
of the colonizers, marrying them with rhythms said colonizers would
either ignore or do their best to banish. Yet, in the hands of people
such as Bitori, who had to travel 8 days over the Atlantic Ocean from
Santiago to Sao Tome and Principe so he could work for three years to
acquire the savings to return home and buy a gaita, music becomes its
own revolution. No wonder Funana is so infectious; it's been through
hell. </p><p>Yet, long before Bitori finally recorded, something radical was
happening to Funana, as well as other local grooves such as batuque and
tabanka. Legend has it that a ship carrying what were in 1968 state of
the art keyboard instruments from Baltimore harbor to Rio de Janeiro
disappeared from radar and ended up on Sao Nicolau island, Cape Verde,
where local folks marveled at this land-wrecked sight. The ship's
contents were distributed to schools where there was electricity, so
local kids could plug them in and immerse themselves in the magic
Rhodes, Farfisas, Moogs, and Hammond organs might possess. The result,
over the course of the next two decades, was an electric fusion, as the
2-beat funana groove got an update, and bands such as Os Apolos and
Elisio and Voz de Cabo Verde gave the archipelago a then radical sound
to compete with Haitian Kompas, Mauritian Sega, and French Caribbean
Tumbele. In fact, this stuff not only rocked the entirety of Cape Verde,
but founds it way back to Portugal as well as across the waters and
into the Caribbean. One listen shows how organic this music's connection
to the islands dotting the Americas is. There's the bristling disco of
Fant Harvest's sung-in-English “That Day,” the synth-driven “Mino di
Mama” by Quirino do Canto, and gaita player Joao Cirilo's decidedly
psychedelic funana, “Po d'Terra.” </p><p>As is the case with Analogue Africa releases, tunes have been painstakingly distilled down to the cream, and both <i>Space Echo</i> and <i>Bitori : Legend Of Funana</i>
have copious booklets with musical and geographic history, musician
interviews, photos, and stories that truly bring the scenes to life. Of
course, anyone who has decided that the two aforementioned releases
aren't enough would do well to check out Ostinato records' sophomore
release, <i>Synthesize the Soul</i>. This collection takes up where <i>Space Echo</i>
leaves off, and features 18 tracks of classic, guitar and keyboard
driven psychedelic funana. Yet, this is the music of the émigré, and as
such, a number of the featured players here are from the Cape Verde
diasporas in Paris, Rotterdam, Lisbon, and Boston, and so this
collection does more than unlock a few more portentous dance tracks; it
gives listeners one more historic hunk exposing how and why populations
migrated and emphasizing how particular cultures have given the west its
musical flair. In this case, infectious dance music from a chain of
islands off the Senegalese coast made by people “harvested” from Europe
and West Africa who had better things to do than serve their colonial
overlords.</p><p><b><a href="https://www.rootsworld.com/reviews/bitori-17.shtml">rootsworld.com</a></b> </p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiiNtrsDPwv3wK2noA3GAVo2nvqh5CTbY5j2JAE82YF7YoStZDJM7DvDfURAgUBP4r7Ze134hXfGfuvui_bZd6oOM8p50P0O1-ueugOb1Yvr8-XLcsCb4sArnGST8P1xWOaJozTIc9viFGMNnRJCgcf0kmE7hgmNIPmY2uofxMaP6mtVz1N1sj6RjbF=s600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiiNtrsDPwv3wK2noA3GAVo2nvqh5CTbY5j2JAE82YF7YoStZDJM7DvDfURAgUBP4r7Ze134hXfGfuvui_bZd6oOM8p50P0O1-ueugOb1Yvr8-XLcsCb4sArnGST8P1xWOaJozTIc9viFGMNnRJCgcf0kmE7hgmNIPmY2uofxMaP6mtVz1N1sj6RjbF=w345-h345" width="345" /></a></div><br />mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-61672859796224972392022-01-07T15:37:00.000+01:002022-01-07T15:37:16.831+01:00Essiebons Special 1973 - 1984 (Ghana Music Power House) by analogafrica<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9ttfve5i3Ljwz0qUGFy0XE3-AqVf6fkj5m2nWV5nXrbi9Rsc7aRTDd8wk9_qjnF-B2W0CgG18IB1KKcLf3SkxQ-X4MhpMG4WWUYdCIbnfE5OjkfsUddABSZ2qH5gvD0O33dQZAttWU9-SfiC63ETgbLyVgXaLNVOlde1QSLkxNLs8JGUUJZkGglCT=s800" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9ttfve5i3Ljwz0qUGFy0XE3-AqVf6fkj5m2nWV5nXrbi9Rsc7aRTDd8wk9_qjnF-B2W0CgG18IB1KKcLf3SkxQ-X4MhpMG4WWUYdCIbnfE5OjkfsUddABSZ2qH5gvD0O33dQZAttWU9-SfiC63ETgbLyVgXaLNVOlde1QSLkxNLs8JGUUJZkGglCT=w406-h272" width="406" /></a> </p><p>One of the most interesting tracks on <strong><em>Essiebons Special 1973–1984 Ghana Music Power House</em></strong>
is Joe Meah’s mysterious "Dee Mmaa Pe". It’s not mentioned in the
compilation’s accompanying booklet, and Joe Meah doesn’t figure in any
of the standard discographies littering the world-wide web. </p>
<p>Despite this inscrutability, <em><a href="https://theartsdesk.com/topics/world-music" title="World music on theartsdesk">Essiebons Special</a>’s</em>
second cut has a surprisingly familiar touchstone. Mainly instrumental
with stabbing brass, a sax solo and odd vocal interjections it has a
shuffling soul vibe. But the keyboard part dominates. What’s played nods
so overtly to The Doors’s “Light my Fire” that it’s close-to certain Mr
Meah or the keyboard-playing member of his band was paying keen
attention to Ray Manzarek. This is the first release of “Dee Mmaa Pe".</p><p>The other thing known about "Dee Mmaa Pe" is that it is was recorded for <a href="https://theartsdesk.com/topics/africa" title="Africa on theartsdesk">Ghanaian</a>
producer Dick Essilfie-Bondzie, whose Dix and Essiebons labels achieved
most success with highlife. C.K. Mann is the best-known name on <em>Essiebons Special.</em></p><p>Essilfie-Bondzie,
who died at age 90 last year, was integral to Ghana’s music. The
booklet tells the story. He produced his first recording in 1959, then
studied in London, returned home and became an employee of the Ghanaian
government’s Industrial Development Corporation. He opened Record
Manufacturers (Ghana) Limited, the country’s first record pressing plant
in 1967. The Essiebons and Dix labels soon followed. In 1972, he left
his government job. In 1978, he produced the film <em>Roots to Fruits</em>. As "Dee Mmaa Pe" makes clear, <em>Essiebons Special</em> looks at <span>Essilfie-Bondzie</span> from a new perspective. Six tracks are previously unissued.</p><p>There’s an emphasis on the funky, groove-based side of things. The
C.K. Mann Big Band’s "Fa W‘akoma Ma Me" was originally included on the
1976 <em>C.K. Mann Big Band</em> album. Featuring some warm solo guitar
(maybe from Ebo Taylor), it’s restrained and brings a Curtis
Mayfield-esque viewpoint to highlife. "Wonnin a Bisa" by Black Masters
Band (from a 1978 LP) is also grounded in highlife but, again, has this
controlled feel. With at least these tracks, Essilfie-Bondzie defined a
difference between the unconstrained live experience and what was
released on record.</p><p>In contrast, Sea Boy’s "Africa" (from the 1976 album <em>Across the Seas</em>)
feels as if it was taped at a live session. The just-about rocksteady
rhythmic chassis is so direct it captures a moment which would not have
lingered. Even though it’s a medley – so must have had forethought –
Nyame Bekyere’s terrific "Medley (Broken Heart, Aunty Yaa, Omo Yaba
(Nzema))" (from the 1976 album <em>Broken Heart</em>) has an analogous spontaneity.</p><p>Obviously, <em>Essiebons Special 1973–1984 Ghana Music Power House</em>
doesn’t seek to be a definitive statement on Dick Essilfie-Bondzie and
his labels. Instead, it emphasises that highlife has never been a
musical straitjacket; that it could be the springing-off point from
which any or many directions could be pursued. Which includes
celebrating a fondness for “Light my Fire”.</p><p><b><a href="https://theartsdesk.com/new-music/music-reissues-weekly-essiebons-special-1973-1984-ghana-music-power-house">theartsdesk.com</a> </b></p><p> - - - - - </p><p>“Highlife”, a name that stuck, was first used to reference the class
divide of colonial Ghana. For many of the bands synonymous with this
loose tag originally began playing to Europe’s upper echelons and civil
servants, diplomatic classes at the stiffened ballrooms and tea dances.
Many would also start out plying their trade as members of the various
police and army marching bands. As trends, new musical styles emerged –
from jazz to swing and eventually rock – these same groups began to
shake off the prissy foxtrots for something altogether sunnier and
dynamic.</p>
<p>Once Ghana (the first Sub-Saharan country to do so) gained
independence in 1957 from Britain, the doors were truly flung open. This
meant not only embracing the contemporary but the past too, as
traditional beats, sounds and rhythms were merged with the new sounds
hitting the airwaves from outside Africa. Highlife grabbed it all and
much more. But if you really need a snappier summary of the phenomenon,
it’s a merger of indigenous African sounds played with Western
instruments. But then that leaves out the horns: a vital part of the
overall sound originally brought in to replace the violin and strings.
In that mostly lilted mix you’ll hear everything from calypso to Stax;
funk to garage fuzz howlers. Of course cats like Fela Kuti, over on
Nigeria, would turn-up it up, inject more political clout, rock and jazz
to create Highlife’s offspring for a new age, Afrobeat – I’m well aware
there will be arguments over that glib summary.</p>
<p>One of Highlife’s great impresarios is celebrated on this final <strong>Analog Africa</strong> compilation of 2021; a project prompted by the postponed (due to Covid) 90<sup>th</sup> birthday of the collection’s subject <strong>Dick Essilfire-Bondzie</strong>, who sadly passed away in August last year.</p>
<p>Though Ghana has found the spotlight before, with for example the brilliant <em>Ghana Special</em>
box set from Soundway, no one’s put the emphasis on one of its chief
instigators, movers and shakers, and the iconic label they set up: <strong>Essiebons</strong>.
In a relatively thriving music scene, yet to be picked up by more than a
couple of Western labels, in the 1960s Essilfire-Bondzie negotiated a
deal with Philips which would change the scene forever with an enviable
roster of acts and artists. Ghana could already boast of The Sweet
Talks, Vis a Vis, The Cutlass Dance Band, T.O. Jazz and Hedzollah
Soundz, but through the studio doors of Essiebons and its small offshoot
Dix came the likes of legends like Rob, C.K. Mann, Gyedu Blay Ambolley
and Ebo Taylor: many of which now appear in some form on this
sixteen-track survey.</p><p>It was probably harder for Anlog’s label chief honcho and crate-digger <strong>Samy Ben Redjeb</strong>
to decide what to leave out; although he’s actually unearthed six
previously unreleased tracks from the archives alongside those that were
released and made a splash. It’s not clear why this sextet was left in
the vaults; it’s certainly not an issue of quality. Left dormant, funky
little shufflers, saunters and gospel slumbers from <strong>Ernest Honny</strong> and <strong>Joe Meah</strong> get to excite the audience they never had.</p>
<p>It soon becomes apparent exactly what instrument the session player
and band leader Honny excelled at, the organ being the focal point of
all four of his turns screams, darts, stabs and flourishes. Honny had
already put out the popular <em>‘Psychedelic Woman’</em> single with his <strong>Bees</strong> and appeared on various key and cult albums before going out alone on this quartet of performances. <em>‘Kofi Psych (Interlude I)’ </em>the
first of these is an organ showpiece that peppers, slams and dots notes
and scales across an almost gospel-soul, bordering on the Bayou,
backing. Herbie Hancock’s “wiggles” and squeeze box emitted buzzer meet
on the sermon-like <em>‘Say The Truth’</em>.</p>
<p>For his part, the relatively unknown Meah lays down an infectious Kuti-like funk groove on the smooth horn blasted and tooted ‘<em>Dee Mmaa Pee’</em>, and adopts synthesized effects on the relaxed tribal beat ‘<em>Ahwene Pa Nkasa’</em>.</p>
<p>Other fruits from the Essiebons tree include <strong>Santrofi-Ansa</strong>’s mid-tempo horn rasping and Curtis Mayfield crosses paths with The Meters and Issac Hayes crosstown jive talk <em>‘Shakabula’</em>, and <strong>Seaboy</strong>’s familiar shuffled and lilted anthem prayer <em>‘Africa’</em>. The alias of one <strong>Joseph Nwjozah Ebroni</strong>, who started out as a vocalist in the Bekyere Guitar Band (whose <em>Across The Sea</em> album classic featured Honny on organ duties), Seaboy also gets to side up once more with <strong>Nyame Bekyere</strong> for the soul-funk, telephone dial tone fluttered organ spot <em>‘Tinitini’</em>.</p>
<p>It’s all good mind, with various adoptions of the Highlife gene, and
some examples of technological advances as the label went into the late
70s and early 80s. And to think, if the late Essilfire-Bondzie had
decided to stick with a career in business or the civil service (the
whole background is laid out in the ever-brilliant, informative
scene-setting liner notes), then Highlife would be without one of its
greatest promoters and platforms. The label though was a great success;
even venturing into film in the 70s with <em>Roots To Fruits</em>, a documentary exploring and featuring the titans of Ghanaian Highlife.</p>
A golden period in the development of a sound that kept changing,
adopting contemporary styles as it went on with a boom in recent years
of modern Highlife, this compilation pays homage to one of its greatest
champions. Analog Africa once more serves up a hot platter as the nights
draw in closer and cold starts to bite. They finish the year on a high.<p> <b><a href="https://monolithcocktail.com/2021/12/06/our-daily-bread-484-essiebons-special-1973-1984-ghana-music-power-house/">monolithcocktail.com</a></b></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaRUTq_WrZ0u8CCYd9EQXGYGnD5QrOWPfHlPD_HN9YzEKBuhlNvVXF8hcUBwYaa4qVR7VNKpw0XtovCNrSyD9Gq6fjuK5U4jT6Bm3xVSznswVPvZPXt1MMwFOcrMiPJsaJ7AHQ1ifY4wUFdSV78z7vfvt4ZMRiiprpqF1g2MTCqCjdR3C_Xvax0dXU=s1200" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaRUTq_WrZ0u8CCYd9EQXGYGnD5QrOWPfHlPD_HN9YzEKBuhlNvVXF8hcUBwYaa4qVR7VNKpw0XtovCNrSyD9Gq6fjuK5U4jT6Bm3xVSznswVPvZPXt1MMwFOcrMiPJsaJ7AHQ1ifY4wUFdSV78z7vfvt4ZMRiiprpqF1g2MTCqCjdR3C_Xvax0dXU=w406-h406" width="406" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-53628800204475615822021-11-10T10:11:00.002+01:002021-11-10T10:11:19.614+01:00Digging deeper into forgotten corners of global groove <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6WIjlMEijbs/YYuLsHxuFHI/AAAAAAAABqA/fYeFu9YnaYo0ghwwtrdzcRLOXAMbXhsGACLcBGAsYHQ/s1050/unknown-1050x697.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="1050" height="269" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6WIjlMEijbs/YYuLsHxuFHI/AAAAAAAABqA/fYeFu9YnaYo0ghwwtrdzcRLOXAMbXhsGACLcBGAsYHQ/w407-h269/unknown-1050x697.jpeg" width="407" /></a></div><p><span style="color: #990000;"><b>Originally published by BY <span id="author" itemprop="author" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><a href="https://www.allaboutjazz.com/member-rob-garratt">ROB GARRATT</a> @ <a href="https://www.allaboutjazz.com/analog-africa-digging-deeper-into-forgotten-corners-of-global-groove">allaboutjazz.com</a>, </span><time datetime="2020-10-21 23:01:00" itemprop="datePublished">October 21, 2020</time></b></span> <br /></p><p>For casual but curious collectors of eclectic sounds and global grooves,
Analog Africa might be the Holy Grail. Since being founded in Germany
by Samy Ben Redjeb in 2006, the Tunisian crate digger's deeply personal
and highly idiosyncratic imprint has birthed a steady stream of 40
peerless releases and counting—carefully curated collections of rare and
obscure analogue-era recordings which invariably act as thrilling sonic
transporters, touristic time capsules and irresistible dance-floor
fillers. <br /><br />The story begins in 2000 when part-time DJ Redjeb began
working for a German airline which took him in and out of major African
transport hubs, offering the unusual opportunity to scour obscure and
forgotten vinyl records which had nearly always never been heard outside
of their target market. <br /><br />An initial fascination with the music
of Zimbabwe led to a pair of loss-making debut releases dedicated to the
country's most-storied groups—The Green Arrows, and Hallelujah Chicken
Run Band—released in 2007, before circumstances took Redjeb to Cotonou,
Benin, where he uncovered a stash of thousands of records that would lay
the path for the following four releases which define the label for
years to come. </p><p>Analog Africa's first multi-artist compilation <em>African Scream Contest -Raw & Psychedelic Afro Sounds from Benin & Togo 70s </em> (2008) put the label on the map and in the heart of curio collectors and groove-fiends, and was followed by the seminal <em>Legends of Benin</em> and two complete volumes dedicated to the fabled <span class="span-102908"><a data-container=".span-102908" data-content="<div class='card thumb-card card-snow'><div class='card-up'></div><div class='thumb-md thumb'><a href='//www.allaboutjazz.com/musicians/orchestre-poly-rythmo-de-cotonou'><i class='fa fa-user'></i></a></div><div class='card-body'><h5><a href='//www.allaboutjazz.com/musicians/orchestre-poly-rythmo-de-cotonou'>Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou</a></h5></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou</span></a></span>.
Along the way listeners became accustomed to the label's distinct
coffee table-worthy cover art, filler-free taste, impeccable sequencing
and Samy's own rambling, idiomatic first-person liner notes, typically
contrasting spontaneous audio epiphanies with the arduous process of
tracking down musicians or their surviving relatives to strike a deal
for release. <br /><br />Focused on the pre-digital golden age of the '70s
and '80s, subsequent releases have covered 20 countries across Africa
and South America, with standalone compilations transporting listeners
to hear the rarely catalogued music of Angola, Burkina Faso, Colombia,
Senegal, Cameroon and Somalia, amongst others. Meanwhile complete
volumes have documented mythical figures including Guinea's Amara
Touré, the Democratic Republic of the Congo's Verckys, Cape Verde's
Bitori, Colombia's Aníbal Velásquez and Cameroonian
soldier-turned-politician Hamad Kalkaba; as well as historical outfits
like Benin's Orchestre Super Borgou De Parakou and Somalia's Dur-Dur
Band. Collectively, the catalogue captures the collision of heady
innovation amid an optimistic milieu, at the moment when traditional
forms collide with new trends and technologies in often young
independent nations. <br /><br />Most recently, the label's 30th non-limited release <em>La Locura de Machuca 1975-1980</em>
chronicles, in Redjeb's words, the "story of a crazy producer from
Colombia who did really special things." After that, he lets slip, will
be a compilation of early '80s Edo Funk tunes from Nigeria's southern
state in the thrall of pioneer Sir Victor Uwaifo. But with so many
riches already unearthed, after spending much of 2020 delving deep into
Analog Africa's existing catalogue during lockdown, this writer was more
concerned with looking backwards. <br /><br /><strong>All About Jazz</strong>:
What is it that makes your ears perk up when you hear certain pieces of
music— what, for example, was it about the forgotten Somali disco tunes
featured on your recent <em>Mogadisco</em> compilation that you wanted to share with the world? <br /><br /><strong> Samy Ben Redjeb</strong>:
Sometimes you ask yourself why you like or love this person and you
can't put your finger on it, you just like it—I don't really have my own
way of describing why I like certain music or not, it's a bit too
difficult to translate emotions into wording. You can't put a finger on
it sometimes, it just gives you a good feeling. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: Ah, but for you there's a commercial element— you also need to know that other people might feel the same. </p><p><strong>SBR</strong>: My label was built because I started to get really
excited about Zimbabwean music—I [thought] if I like it, why wouldn't
other people? The label is basically a reflection of my own taste, and
the people who like Analog Africa are people who trust my taste. So
generally the compilations are made for myself, then hoping other people
are going to like it—there is no other way. I'm sure there are people
who go on Discogs and decide they want something because 2,000 other
people want it—but I don't function like this. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: But you must find some records that you love are less successful in the marketplace ... <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
Yes, But I know this before I even release it. It doesn't really matter
because it's not only about sales, it's about cultures, it's about
showing ... I always like trying to compare what I do to someone who
makes a lot of spices available for a cook —he takes a bit of this, a
bit of that—what I'm trying to do is showcase as much variety as
possible. And if possible music that hasn't really been showcased
before, it makes it more interesting. It's not a must. <br /><br />Now I'm
releasing a compilation by a label from Colombia called Machuca, which
is the beginning of a style of music called champeta, which is basically
African music recorded by Colombian musicians. When they started it was
very experimental—sometimes a bit too crazy for most— and I know that
it's not going to sell as well as if I just release another Afrobeat
compilation. But for me it's more interesting to do something different
instead of something that's already been done, that I know would sell
more. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: Before you founded the label, you
hosted an African club night in Dakar, Senegal—is that what started you
digging for these wonderful forgotten records? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
At that time I was DJing in hotels and I was basically playing just the
charts, pop music, disco —and at some point I started doing African
nights but it was not that kind of music I was looking for. The music I
liked was just too raw to be played in discos. The first digging trips I
did were not to play music for people but for me to discover music that
I really loved. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: Looking back on the past 20 years digging, what was your greatest single find? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
I have to say one of the most epic moments for me was to find that
warehouse in Cotonou in Benin. That's the turning point for my label,
really. For example, Orchestre Poly-Rythmo—I think I found almost
everything they recorded in that one place. They recorded about 500
records and I think I found 450. The next two or three compilations I
did was basically based on what I found in that place. That was the
turning point for me—when I was there, going through the records, I
understood straight away. I think everyone has like one godly present in
their life and I think that was mine. </p><p><strong>AAJ</strong>: When faced with that amount of material—how many tracks do you listen to putting together a single compilation? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>: Well, let's say for <em>Angola Soundtrack [The Unique Sound Of Luanda 1968-1976]</em> I probably listened to 1,000 songs that were diluted into 14. And for <em>African Scream</em>
it was even more than that—but it doesn't mean the other songs are not
so good. Sometimes I take one song out just to put another song in
because it's going to make it flow better, or if one song is too similar
to another one. Once you have the songs, putting them into the right
running order takes months. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: How many get away—how often are there tracks you can't locate, or can't afford? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
Let's say from the 500 songs I released so far, there are maybe 10
artists I didn't manage to find. If you don't find the artist, and you
don't find the producer, and he doesn't have children ... but generally
if you really, really want to find someone, you will manage. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: You often write about the negotiation process in your notes. How do you decide what to pay an artist? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
Basically what I do is go with an average pressing—generally I would
say, if all goes well I would sell maybe 5-6,000 LPs and 1,000 CDs, so
let's say that's between 6-7,000 in total. So basically I don't pay
royalties—the company who says they will pay royalties is all lies
because they don't have the manpower to calculate royalties on every
song for every artist every six months. So generally what happens is
they pay the first two royalties [checks], and then afterwards it
trickles down and you get bills where they tell you have $1.27 or $2.69
or bullshit like that. I don't believe in that, so I calculate, say I
have 7,000 units, all are sold, 15 per cent royalties [for physical
sales; or 50 per cent for digital] for the artists is say 10,000 euros—
which divided by the number of songs gives me 600 to 700 euros, so
that's what I offer. Companies don't [normally] do that because they're
basically paying all the royalties in advance that way, which is a risk.
But I prefer to do it because it gives me a better feeling that I have
been correct, and I already know that I will manage to sell this
[number], even if it doesn't sell it in a year, it will sell in two. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>:
There's an element where your work goes beyond music—the research and
storytelling aspect of your curatorial process—it's history, culture,
anthropology... <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>: Sometimes when people help
me to write liner notes—for example a professor of Colombian and
Brazilian music— I always tell them I don't want them to sound like
professors. I don't want them to be academic. I always say, write
whatever you want but also remember that the people who create the music
generally are not from that field and they need to understand whatever
you write. I would find it very strange if, for example, someone from
the north of Brazil goes through the liner notes and doesn't understand a
single word about the very music that he's involved in. I try to write
very basic—the people who read the liner notes may be Japanese, Spanish,
Italian—I try to write in my own words. I'm not an academic and I
believe that most of the people that buy our compilations are not
academics, so I try to write more like a storyteller.</p><p>When I DJ, sometimes they invite me into high-society parties and I
really hate that, because the music I play is by simple people and I
identify very much with them. Obviously it's very interesting when you
find a song made for local consumption—it didn't go out of the state or
country—and then suddenly you play it in Hong Kong or New York or
Berlin, that's very interesting to see. But I also don't like that
sometimes you take music totally out of context and play it for people
who have nothing in common with the people who created that music. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>:
On that note—some of your records can command two or three times the
original price on Discogs when they go out of print. How many copies do
you normally put out of a compilation, like say, your most recent, <em>Mogadisco</em>? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
We did 4,000 of Mogadisco first, but I think we repressed. I'm in the
process of creating; once the compilation is done, I go to the next one,
and I don't deal with sales. I don't even have access to my own bank
account. I'm employed by my own company. I have a manager, I don't want
to receive invoices, to get papers. The five employees are getting paid
and we're managing to put out music—it's like a circle, you produce, you
sell, with that money you pay your people and the next production —and
it's just a circle that basically goes around and as long as that wheel
is turning ... if somebody had told me [before], "listen you would be
able to survive from your work," I would have signed that straight away.
And that is what is happening now and I couldn't ask for more. I'm not
someone who is very interested in material things ... I'm not too
fussed. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ:</strong> Except when it comes to wax... <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
Yeah, I'm not even too crazy about wax, it's just that the wax is a
format where I find the music I love—but once it's digitized the vinyl
loses a bit of the importance, to me it's really about the music. The
people that say vinyl sounds so much better than digital or CD— well,
it's more about the experience of putting on a record, a vinyl is really
fragile so you care more about it, it's gatefold, you have a big
booklet—it's not about the vinyl, it's about the experience of it. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: For real? You're telling me the vinyl versions of your own records don't sound any better? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
I can play the vinyl, I can play the CD, and you will not hear a
difference. The CD can sometimes even sound better—-when you cut the
vinyl you lose a bit of the mids and highs, it's a bit more round,
depending on the record. For the <em>Machuca </em>, I asked my sound
engineer especially, "I want it to sound like a bunch of skeletons
playing on tins." So the mids and trebles are quite rattley. So when he
cuts the vinyl a bit of this is going to go down—so I know already the
CD is going to sound better for this particular compilation.</p><p>I love vinyl because that's where I found 90 per cent of all the music I
release, and when I want to find a song I know it's only going to be on
vinyl. But if I found good music on cassette, or on master tapes, I
would love it as much. And because in the scene I am in there are so
many people who are completely vinyl junkies, I really got turned off by
that. I don't want to become like this. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: A
lot of the most exciting African music from the golden period you
document took a heavy influence from the funk and soul sounds coming
from the US. It may have been a one-way street —at that point anyway—but
why did West African musicians especially respond so strongly to
Western trends? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>: <span class="span-11786"><a data-container=".span-11786" data-content="<div class='card thumb-card card-snow'><div class='card-up'></div><div class='thumb-md thumb'><a href='//www.allaboutjazz.com/musicians/james-brown'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/musician/76d8a1843d5c8334701644e12443f.jpg' alt='James Brown' loading='lazy' /></a></div><div class='card-body'><h5><a href='//www.allaboutjazz.com/musicians/james-brown'>James Brown</a></h5>voice / vocals<br />1933 - 2006</div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">James Brown</span></a></span>
was something else, because he also had a really strong message which
really impacted Africa very strongly, especially in the late '60s and
early '70s—but if you listen to Poly-Rythmo and all these other guys it
was not just straight funk, it was not like American funk, it was really
their own creation and this is what makes it interesting. The thing
that is most interesting is when they do funk without even knowing
they're doing it, just because the rhythm section improvises it—I mean
the funk is not really a style, it's more a vibe, a rhythm, than a style
to me. So I'm pretty sure there are African musicians who never came
into contact with funk, but the way they play it is just funky because
that's what the music is dictating. <br /><br />When you talk to the
musicians they tell me funk is very easy to them, it is never a
problem—Afrobeat is a bit more complicated because it's a whole
orchestra, you need brass, and not every band has that—but funk was not a
problem for any of those bands. Any kind of western music was not a
problem for any African bands. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: What instruments do you play yourself? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
I don't play any instruments. When I started playing I realized I'm
only going to reach a certain level but I'm not going to become
excellent. Anything where I'm not going to be excellent, I'm not going
to do it. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: At the end of last year you released <em>Mogadisco—Dancing Mogadishu (Somalia 1972-1991)</em>, your first compilation from a country in the Arab World; was there any reason you turned to this part of the globe now? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
There is no reason, if they were Christian I would have done it anyway,
there is really nothing to do with [religion], it's just [that] I
discovered this music five or six years ago and it takes time, it's
complicated to do a project like this. First the need to travel—if
Somalia was easy to travel to I would've already been there like 10
times, but I've been only once and it's an overwhelming experience—it
took me four years to get there, I stayed for five or six weeks and
brought back enough [digitized music] to do two or three projects, and
then I'll see if I have the courage or the will to put myself into a
situation like this again. <br /></p><p><strong>AAJ:</strong> What about the music of your home, Tunisia? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
For me I need one song to make me sit up and look for more, and I've
never encountered a Tunisian song that I was like, "wow, I want to
discover more of that." Despite the fact Tunisia had the most futuristic
bands, they didn't have the richest industry, and there was not so much
crossover—maybe there was but I have not had the chance to come across
it. <br /><br />Also when you are born into a country you're more curious to
see what is happening in other places, areas you don't know, that makes
it a bit more interesting, the curiosity to check out if there is
something there. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: So what does attract you to a particular country? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
Just the music, there is no big difference between Benin, Somalia,
Ghana, Senegal, or whatever countries I've been to, it just sounds
different and that's why I was interested. But it's not a calculated
thing, like "now I'm going to do Islamic countries in Africa"—I've never
really thought about it, it's just "this is interesting music, let's
see if there's an opening to do something with it." I've released music
from 20 African countries and I've been to 28, I think. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>:
So far you've avoided releasing music from two of the countries which
have been most heavily covered, and fetishized, by Western
labels—Nigeria and Mali—is that simply because the market's already
saturated, or all the best tunes have already been heard? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
Not really. The Malian music that has reached Europe is really the
traditional music, but produced by European musicians in most cases. But
the music from the '70s that is really, really interesting, I don't
think there's so much that has been released yet. There's a producer in
France, Syllart Records, and he basically struck deals with different
producers here and there and bought the rights to things, and every time
you release something he says, "I've got the rights to this, I've got
the rights to that," although you don't even know if it's true or not.
If it's already a bit too crowded, it's not really interesting you know.
<br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: What's your relationship like with the other European labels releasing vintage music from Africa and around the world? <br /><br /><strong>SBR </strong>:
I don't think I can say that. I tend to say I'm part of the scene, but
I'm not really in it because I don't deal with record collectors,
dealers or other labels. I don't have a bad relationship with any of
them but it's not that there is a relationship. I think everybody is
doing his own thing and we try not to step on each other's toes. </p><p><strong>AAJ</strong>: Let's put it another way—I'm a fan of Analog Africa, I've already heard all your releases, what should I listen to next? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
My favorite label is Soundway [Records], for me they are the best. The
founder [Miles Cleret] recommended me to work with Nick Robbins who is
my mastering engineer in London. He sent me a few records for <em>African Scream</em>.
I know the work he's doing and that's absolutely no reason why I
shouldn't like him and respect him. Also he's a very correct guy, at
some point he knew I was working on a Ghana compilation, and he said,
"listen Samy, I'm also working on a Ghana compilation, here are the
songs I'm planning to release, let me know if there is one you are also
planning and I will remove it from my list." And I was like, okay this
guy is really cool. Not everybody would do that. <br /><br />Someone else I
like a lot is the guy from Strut—he's the guy who managed to get me my
distributor in the States. One that influenced me a lot is Buddha Music
with the <em>Éthiopiques</em> series. And also Ellipsis Art, that went
bankrupt because they always used to do huge booklets. These are the
labels I'm really close to. <br /><br /><strong>AAJ</strong>: It's been a relentless life and a seemingly endless search, do you ever get tired of it, ever think of giving it up? <br /><br /><strong>SBR</strong>:
Not really, but I think I will get to 50 [releases] and 50 will be the
last one. I'm now releasing number 30 ... and I'm now 49-years old. </p><p><span style="color: #990000;"><b>Originally published by BY <span id="author" itemprop="author" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><a href="https://www.allaboutjazz.com/member-rob-garratt">ROB GARRATT</a> @ <a href="https://www.allaboutjazz.com/analog-africa-digging-deeper-into-forgotten-corners-of-global-groove">allaboutjazz.com</a>, </span><time datetime="2020-10-21 23:01:00" itemprop="datePublished">October 21, 2020</time></b></span></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-86519956121788576982021-11-09T14:59:00.005+01:002021-11-09T14:59:58.493+01:00Johnny! – Karl Hector presents: Johnny!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JsR-Vwa5G_4/YYp-NwRCghI/AAAAAAAABpw/JxaFuCSnHCAPreDNqKRoGBKlhOv1KjptgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1500/artist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="388" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JsR-Vwa5G_4/YYp-NwRCghI/AAAAAAAABpw/JxaFuCSnHCAPreDNqKRoGBKlhOv1KjptgCLcBGAsYHQ/w258-h388/artist.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><strong><br />Ghanaian Afro-Rock from German producer/composer JJ
Whitefield, inspired by his Karl Hector & The Malcouns and
Whitefield Brothers projects.</strong><strong>
</strong><p><strong>Fans of Zamrock, Ebo Taylor, Khruangbin and William Onyeabor will find joy in Johnny!’s hypnotic grooves.</strong></p>
<p>JJ Whitefield, who in the early ‘90s revived the gritty, analogue
Funk sounds of the ‘60s and ‘70s with his Poets Of Rhythm, has been
working with Now-Again Records for over decade, releasing a flock of
acclaimed projects with Karl Hector & The Malcouns, Whitefield
Brothers, Rodinia and the <em>Original Raw Soul</em> anthology.</p>
<p>He first started exploring African rhythms with the Whitefield
Brothers in the late ‘90s, continuing in the ‘00s with Karl Hector &
The Malcouns. He’s been instrumental in launching Ghanaian Afro
Beat/Funk legend Ebo Taylor´s international career, decades after the
maestro recorded the landmark albums that have inspired thousands.
Whitefield recorded two new studio albums with Taylor and toured in his
band between 2009 and 2013, where he met Taylor’s son Henry and
percussionist/Singer Eric Owusu. </p>
<p>The trio now front the Johnny! band and find inspiration not only in
Ghana’s hypnotic grooves, but also the full frontal fuzz guitar assault
heard on the legion of 70s Zambian Zamrock albums reissued by Now-Again.
Indeed, Whitefield credits his tours with Zamrock godfathers Rikki
Ililonga and WITCH’s Jagari Chanda as instrumental in creating the
Johnny’s sonic backdrop. The band is rounded out by Turkish drummer
Bernd Oezsevim (Woima Collective, Rodinia) and Indonesian bassist/multi
instrumentalist Tomi Simatupang (Whitefield Brothers).</p>
<p>This is what was oft-called “Afro Rock” at the core, with the
possibilities to stretch out into swinging highlife, sweet soul or
psychedelia . The results, point at a new direction for the music
inspired by the Great Continent. One that takes a direction once mocked
as derivative and asserts its importance on the globe’s current musical
stage.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xns0KFphVcc/YYp-tJeotvI/AAAAAAAABp4/HqjEHZEz0wgDtUr372EKbOd6BvEOhwHGgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1500/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="362" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xns0KFphVcc/YYp-tJeotvI/AAAAAAAABp4/HqjEHZEz0wgDtUr372EKbOd6BvEOhwHGgCLcBGAsYHQ/w362-h362/cover.jpg" width="362" /></a></div><p></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-1743466342729269192021-09-14T10:04:00.001+02:002021-09-14T10:04:11.762+02:00Los Camaroes - A Journey Into Cameroonian Music <p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RqEEDGCTAUo/YUBWszaFU4I/AAAAAAAABpM/TbMxA8DoyMIHmAF930hycnN-Cx5a2gv7gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/artist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="1200" height="264" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RqEEDGCTAUo/YUBWszaFU4I/AAAAAAAABpM/TbMxA8DoyMIHmAF930hycnN-Cx5a2gv7gCLcBGAsYHQ/w412-h264/artist.jpg" width="412" /></a> For its 3rd releases, Nubiphone is proud to present you a compilation
of the best early 7inch releases of the mythical Cameroonian band Los
Camaroes. <br /><br />
10 raw tracks taken from various singles from 1968 to 1975, that present
the musical diversity played by those seven young people: Bikutsi,
Afro-Funk, Jerk, , Soukous, Rumba & Blues music. The band led by the
charismatic lead vocal Messi Martin that managed to modernized
Cameroonian music. Deluxe edition that includes an 8-pages booklet,
with exclusive pictures, biography in both English and French languages.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QgRpa5dQ4sE/YUBW2tJgJ0I/AAAAAAAABpQ/lMwOLmkAUGg1u_0mPalWkM9yFjS175CUACLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1195" height="407" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QgRpa5dQ4sE/YUBW2tJgJ0I/AAAAAAAABpQ/lMwOLmkAUGg1u_0mPalWkM9yFjS175CUACLcBGAsYHQ/w406-h407/cover.jpg" width="406" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-89769327290682585032021-09-03T12:43:00.001+02:002021-09-03T12:43:37.957+02:00Cameroon Garage Funk (Pt. II) <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WQBarrS7c6U/YTH7Fkgm_HI/AAAAAAAABo4/iEsAC09zI4ssJBFyToK_T2cc3vPgC2w-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s373/Bild1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="267" height="409" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WQBarrS7c6U/YTH7Fkgm_HI/AAAAAAAABo4/iEsAC09zI4ssJBFyToK_T2cc3vPgC2w-ACLcBGAsYHQ/w293-h409/Bild1.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><br />The globe-trotting team over at<strong> Analog Africa</strong> are at
it again, delivering another beautifully crafted package that shines a
light and some of the lost scenes of yesteryear. After 15 years in the
game, you’d think the label might be running out of rare gems to find,
but here we are clutching 16 tracks of Cameroon garage funk which range
from fuzzed-out freakouts to hip-shaking Latin groove. <p></p>
<p>An esoteric endeavor even by this label’s standards, main man Samy
Ben Redjeb chanced upon this scene after time spent with the phenomenal <strong>Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou</strong>.
Discussing their heyday and past sounds led Ben Redjeb to their old
producer, and in turn, the premises of Niger's national radio station
for a little crate digging. Drawn to one shelf in particular, he
discovered a bunch of Cameroon 45s, nearly all bearing the mark of
French music label Sonafric.</p>
<p>Thus began label head’s ‘Sonafric Safari, a trip which saw him travel
from Douala to Yaoundé via Bamenda like some kind of vinyl obsessed Dr.
Jones. Finds were scarce, as was any information, and it’s only now
after hours interviewing various music figureheads that we get a
snapshot of this underground scene that set 70s Yaoundé alright. With
venues of the day hosting everything from soul nights to French yé-yé
it’s no surprise that this compilation seems a bit more scrappy and
scattershot than other releases but still filled with plenty of welcome
surprises.</p>
<p>With the country at the time lacking any real recording industry or
facilities, getting your song out there to the masses was a real hustle
in itself, one often requiring the use of an Adventist church and an
open-minded engineer. What’s left for history is a set of DIY tracks
which willed themselves into existence through pure determination and a
level of energy that still reverberates today.</p>
<p>The likes of Joseph Kamga’s ‘Sie Tcheu’ fit the comp's title
admirably, boasting raw funk guitar, organ solos, and a bassline that
refuses to quit. ‘Yondja’ on the other hand proves a more Afrocentric
treat, the western funk groundwork mixed with spidery piano work, horns,
and percussion that’s tighter than a diving bell. The Damas Swing
Orchestra proves another winner, the group using its short track runtime
to deliver a nocturnal groove while sprinkling samples of crowd cheers
over the top. It’s smooth, a little jazzy, and about 15 years ahead of
its time.</p>
<p>More than anything, the 16 numbers on show reveal what a melting pot
the city’s club scene was at the time. French language numbers are
belted out - at times off-key - while artists with names like Johnny
Black do their best James Brown impersonation in recording rooms with
just one mic. Once again this boutique label has moved mountains to give
lovers of African music, as well as musicologists, a real treat. It may
just be a glimpse, but damn does Cameroon circa 1975 sound like a lot
of fun.</p><p><b><a href="https://www.clashmusic.com/reviews/va-cameroon-garage-funk">clashmusic.com</a></b> </p><p>- - - - - -</p><p>The title of Analog Africa’s latest compilation manages to give you a
spot-on idea of what you’re going to get, while simultaneously leading
you astray. It’s that attributive noun in the middle, really. People
have talked mistily about ‘garage’ bands as a broad concept for maybe
half a century now – and it was by definition a thing of the past when
the <i>Nuggets</i> collection, from 1972, threw the idea out there – and
in that time, like basically every musical genre or grouping that ever
took hold, it’s been appropriated, misattributed and diluted until it’s
scarcely identifiable.</p>
<p>As I say, that’s the price of recognition, not much point complaining
about it: 20 years ago, when the very well-heeled Strokes’ very
professionally recorded debut album was held up as an avatar of ‘garage
rock’ in the wider imagination, it was kind of irksome for heads, but
no-one died or anything. The term has always been a dually-functioning
one as regards social signifiers, in any event: the idealised American
garage bands of the 1960s played in the garage because they were kids
who couldn’t afford actual studios, and because they came from
middle-class families with sufficiently equipped houses.</p>
<p><i>Cameroon Garage Funk</i>’s sleevenotes, though illuminating, don’t
go into enough detail about the featured groups for us to make many
conclusive statements about their backgrounds, let alone whether their
family homes had garages. They do however describe a church in
Cameroon’s capital, Yaoundé, which had some basic studio gear and an
employee willing to record bands on the downlow when the priests were
elsewhere. For a few years in the 1970s (all but one of these songs were
recorded in that decade), this was the most viable way for the
country’s musicians to commit themselves to tape, and accounts for the
bulk of what Analog Africa’s Samy Ben Redjeb has selected here. All done
live into a single mic, too, and when I say you can often tell it’s
said with high admiration: this music, from before I was born on a
continent I’ve never visited, buzzes raw enough to have me feeling like I
was in the room shuffling clodhoppingly. That’s the nub of the garage
mindset, no?</p><p>This album, like everything Analog Africa (among many other archive
labels) releases, is closely tied to the collector scene – you can’t
very well not be if you want to do this properly. Redjeb, a Tunisian
living in Germany, prefaces the various band profiles by recalling how
he got into Cameroonian digging, actually finding the 45s comped here in
Niger, Benin and Togo before entering the country in question. Most of
them were released by a label called Sonafric, based in Paris but
specialising in pressing contemporary African sounds. For a country that
barely had a functioning music industry, a decent amount of sides were
cut in 70s Cameroon – Manu Dibango accrued a global profile at the time
while being the proverbial iceberg’s tip – but they’ve not been given
retrospective attention like the output of other western African
nations, Nigeria and Ghana especially. Analog Africa, to their credit,
have bucked this trend before, issuing the brief mid-70s discography of <a href="https://analogafrica.bandcamp.com/album/hamad-kalkaba-and-the-golden-sounds-1974-1975" target="out">Hamad Kalkaba</a> and a <a href="https://analogafrica.bandcamp.com/album/pop-makossa-the-invasive-dance-beat-of-cameroon-1976-1984" target="out">compilation of disco-influenced makossa</a> from the late 70s and early 80s.</p>
<p>Makossa and the older bikutsi, both rhythm-forward native styles, are germane to <i>Cameroon Garage Funk</i>
without featuring on it per se. Los Camaroes are represented here by
both sides of a 1973 single, and had already built a rep as a versatile
nightclub house band by then; Messi Martin, their guitarist, has over
time become synonymous with ‘modern bikutsi’. Here, ‘Ma Wde Wa’ is a
mild outlier, more like soukous than the rockist abandon of many other
acts featured here, but with its sprightly melodies dusted in amp fuzz
and afforded some bizarrely ‘off’ drum fills, you can see what Redjeb
heard, so to speak. B-side ‘Esele Mulema Moam’ showcases their harder
side, though: vocal yawping a la James Brown, who we’ll return to, meets
with a rolling-stock bassline and chicken-scratch guitar.</p>
<p>A surf-style guitar gives way to a wild perversion of Latin jazz,
before being brought back again, on Charles Lembe Et Son Orchestra’s
‘Quiero Wapatcha’, a song actually dating from 1964 (Lembe <a href="https://www.cameroon-tribune.cm/article.html/29573/fr.html/necrologie-charles-lembe-le-dernier-souffle" target="out">died in 2019</a>
aged 81, likely making him the most venerable musician featured here).
Given that this compilation is otherwise laser-focused on the following
decade, I’m choosing to believe that Redjeb included it for no other
reason than it rips. It’s also available on another Afro-specialist
compilation, by <a href="https://www.discogs.com/Various-Africa-Boogaloo-The-Latinization-Of-West-Africa/master/228083" target="out">Honest Jon’s</a>;
I daresay licensing this stuff properly is an arseache, but also think
it would have been preferable to give prospective buyers stuff they
almost certainly <i>didn’t</i> already own. Being more charitable, there
are some true obscurities featured here, not only to latterday
collectors but, it seems, Cameroon scenesters of the era, with Redjeb’s
biographical hunting turning up squat.</p>
<p>Damas Swing Orchestra’s ‘Odylife’ has also been comped before, on an <a href="https://africaseven.bandcamp.com/album/africa-airways-03-the-afro-psych-excursion-1972-1984" target="out">Africa Airways set</a> from a few years ago, but the <i>Cameroon Garage Funk</i>
liner notes simply state “no information” with an implied shrug. While
not giving the impression of being intentionally mysterious, they
cultivate an eldritch atmos in their 140 seconds here. A sample of a
large, cheering crowd is intermittently inserted into a
tambourine-shaking jazz shuffle whose title is uttered in haunted tones.
Then there’s this collection’s other “no info, soz” act Jean-Pierre
Djeukam, whose ‘Africa Iyo’ opens with seven seconds of untethered,
perhaps malfunctioning electr(on)ics before the actual tune starts. Good
gravy, it’s quick! In fact, if you can find a higher tempo Afrofunk
tune I’ll… be grateful for your valuable service, is what. A regrettably
anonymous band chops riffs like the Meters and honks JBs horns, but
with the foamy fervour of certain UK bands who were, at the time of this
7-inch’s release in 1978, just starting to make a meal out of punk and
funk (Gang Of Four, most prominently). I link up these names in a spirit
of celebration: of how cool it is that people, or groups of people, can
have highly similar flashes of inspiration while being unaware of each
other’s existence.</p><p>As with a lot of music that left a scant paper trail, there’s lots of
fun to had trying to figure out who exactly inspired these performers,
with the bonus of it being almost as satisfying not to know. Andre
Destin Ndenga was a saxophonist with the ability to pick up any other
instrument, and who incorporated a Cuban influence into his music from
the 1950s onwards. That’s evident on ‘Yondja’, recorded in the late 70s
with Les Golden Sounds – the official ensemble of the Cameroon
presidency; the story goes that Ndenga was forcibly enlisted as
bandleader – although by this time he was looking to Fela Kuti for
inspiration. The rich array of percussion accounts for the first of
those influences; the fat sax riffs the second. ‘Ngamba’, originally the
B-side of ‘Yondja’, incorporates a head-turning synth break at 0:27,
guitar melodies almost resembling Chinese folk, call-and-response vocals
and sax playing as wildly jazzy as anything on this compilation.</p>
<p>Another rocker working for the man was Mballa Bony, who joined the
army’s orchestra in 1975 and released the ‘Mezik Me Mema’ 45 the
following year. Later he would cross over to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2lwIQZ4WEk&ab_channel=DjMoar" target="out"><i>Pop Makossa</i>-ish electronic sounds</a>,
but for now his wistful, kindly-sounding vocal is backed by almost
highlife guitar and a sax break for the ages. The booklet features
Bony’s thoughts on the influence of James Brown in the Cameroon capital
at the time; there’s no obvious attempt at a bite here, unlike Johnny
Black’s ‘Mayi Bo Ya?’. Total Godfather of Soul worship for its first two
minutes, it then fires off in myriad Afropsych directions, a
demonstration of this music’s innate individuality even when the players
are unabashedly trying to crib a style. Louis Wasson Et L’Orchestre
Kandem Irenée’s ‘Song Of Love’, too, kicks off with deeply Brownian
motion, Wasson himself drilling a killer riff into the frame, but a more
chaotic arrangement thereafter than the old tyrant would have stood
for. “I love you!” gasps the vocalist, stirringly.</p>
<p>‘Les Souffrances’, a song written by Johnny Black about the tougher
side of life in 70s Cameroon and recorded by his friend Tsanga
Dieudonne, is close as we come here to straight Afrobeat, if there is
such a thing, though marking itself out by virtue of scorching proggy
organ by Dieudonne himself (who also passed away in 2019). So high-tempo
danceable it would have Prince Andrew sweating like Tony Blair, it
apparently captured the national public imagination, as did ‘Monde
Moderne’ by Pierre Didy Tchakounte Et Les Tulipes Noires. A paean to
being a boy in a rock&roll band, late bedtimes and all, its French
lyrics lend it the rock-gone-wrong marvellousness of that nation’s more
offbeat vintage pop icons, like Jacques Dutronc.</p>
<p>A second Tchakounte cut, ‘Ma Fou Fou’, is bone-hard funk with a
jazzworthy drum freakout: the only thing stopping this being a smash in
waiting among those “ORIGINAL 45S ONLY” mod nights is the ruff fidelity.
Meanwhile, if your idea of what funk sounds like was mostly gleaned
from watching vintage pornography, the agile wah pedal wigging of Willie
Song Et Les Showmen’s ‘Moni Ngan’ is for you. Why did Cameroon, indeed
much of Africa, adopt and reshape funk so enthusiastically?</p>
<p>Redjeb, <a href="https://www.allaboutjazz.com/analog-africa-digging-deeper-into-forgotten-corners-of-global-groove" target="out">in an interview last year</a>,
suggested, “James Brown had a really strong message which really
impacted Africa”; moreover, “when you talk to the musicians they tell me
funk is very easy to them – Afrobeat is a bit more complicated because
it’s a whole orchestra, you need brass, and not every band has that.”</p>
<p>I don’t think there’s anything more quintessentially <i>Cameroon Garage Funk</i>
– that fulfils each word of its title most completely – than ‘Sie
Tcheu’, by Joseph Kamga. A minute-long instrumental intro builds
anticipation, and though there’s not actually a lot of vocal thereafter,
the lead guitarist (presumably Kamga himself) dazzles with some hard
blues riffs worthy of the most basement-dwelling teen pimplies, which
again I naturally mean in a good way. The organ solo, when it hits, is
pure wavy gravy <i>Nuggets</i> psych idealism.</p>
<p>The 1970s Cameroon bandscape had its own specifics, quirks and
idiosyncrasies, just like that of any country from any era, and Analog
Africa have ably captured this without going overboard. There’s no
obvious reason, short of national affiliation, for someone to focus on
its music – which of course crosspollinated with that of its neighbours,
plus France later on with the 1980s makossa boom, this perhaps being a
colonialist hangover – to the exclusion of others. It’s just full of
slinky rhythm, stone funk and some really cool origin stories, the sort
of stuff that justifies the continuing existence of the archive reissue
market.</p><p><b><a href="https://thequietus.com/articles/30436-cameroon-garage-funk-review">thequietus.com</a></b> </p><p> - - - - - -</p><p class="has-drop-cap">For some 10 years now, releases from the seminal German <strong><a data-id="100741" data-type="post" href="https://www.folkradio.co.uk/2020/09/various-la-locura-de-machuca/">Analog Africa</a></strong> label, under the leadership of its founder and crate-digger-in-chief, <strong>Samy Ben Redjeb</strong>,
has brought to the world authentic and eye-opening records, largely
previously unheard outside of their native boundaries. Often
misunderstood and overlooked, the rich and diverse heritage of this
continent has been celebrated through a catalogue of <em>“explosive foot-shufflers and hypnotic sauntering treasures”</em>.</p>
<p>Redjeb’s modus operandi focuses upon tracking down and dusting-off
rare finds and locating sources, frequently interviewing those
responsible for the original recordings, be they the artists, engineers
or record company owners, and then lovingly transforming the source
material into the vinyl gold that is issued under the label’s name, (CD
and digital versions notwithstanding).</p>
<p>After a brief excursion to South America with their last offering in July of this year, <em>Manzanita Y Su Conjunto; Trujillo, Peru 1971-974</em>, reviewed in Folk Radio UK <a href="https://www.folkradio.co.uk/2021/07/manzanita-y-su-conjunto-trujillo-peru/">here</a>,
Analog Africa make a continental return to Africa, specifically the
west-central region, with a Various Artists collection of underground
music entitled <em>Cameroon Garage Funk</em>, the 32nd compilation from the Analog Africa Regular Series.</p>
<p>The lack of availability of 70s music from Cameroon remained a
mystery to me until I received this CD for review when all was revealed.
Whilst the nation’s capital, <strong>Yaoundé</strong>, was at the time a
hive of musical activity, with every neighbourhood filled with music
spots, the country lacked the infrastructure of proper recording
facilities for these myriad artists, the vast majority of whom obviously
could not afford to use the national broadcasting company and employ a
sound engineer. Since there were no local labels or producers, the
process of committing your song to tape could become a whole adventure
in itself, with the artists themselves often fulfilling the roles of
musicians, arranger, producer, financier, promotor, executive producer
and even distributor.</p>
<p>Fortuitously and somewhat bizarrely, an alternative option presented
itself in the form of an Adventist church in the Djoungolo district,
which possessed good recording equipment. The Church engineer, <strong>Monsieur Awono, </strong>knowing
the schedule of the priests, would accept cash in exchange for
arranging illicit, clandestine recording sessions. Using their own
equipment, many artists on this compilation secretly recorded their
first few songs in these premises, albeit with only a single microphone.</p>
<p>Following the recording session, the master reel of tape would be
handed to whoever had paid for the session, usually the artist
themselves, and in the absence of an alternative, this would then
invariably be taken to the forward-thinking French label <strong>Sonafric,</strong> the route and platform that many Cameroonian artists used to kickstart their career.</p>
<p>This information was gleaned by the intrepid Redjeb following a few
trips, and many hours of interviews, in his quest to piece together what
at first appeared to be a long-lost underground scene, a journey that
took him not only to Cameroon but also to Benin and Togo, and to cities
including Cotonou, Lomé and Sotouboua, where most of the songs on this
release were acquired. As with previous releases, the extensive liner
notes are the result of meticulous research by Redjeb and <strong>Volkan Kaya</strong> and present not only as a work of the heart but also as an enhancement to the package as a whole.</p>
<p>All 16 tracks on the project are composed by veterans of the
Cameroonian scene. While some are from famous names, others perhaps only
recorded one or two tracks before disappearing into obscurity that even
modern-day search engines will fail to locate. What the collection
does reflect, however, is different moments in the musical history of
the period. Following Cameroon’s independence, for instance, the local
bands began to introduce the traditional sounds of Makossa and Bikutsi
into their music.</p>
<p>The first single released from the collection, <em>Africa Iyo</em>, recorded in 1978 by <strong>Jean-Pierre Djeukam</strong>,
an artist so obscure that he remains unknown to the vast majority of
musicians even in his home country, is a searing Afrobeat opener that
sets the tone for what is to come. Released in 1974, Sie Tcheu is a Jerk
tune sung in Bamiléké, a language spoken by one of the largest ethnic
groups in Cameroon, by guitarist extraordinaire Joseph Kamga. Two
offerings from another musician hailing from a Bamiléké family appear on
the album. One of the best-known artists on the collection, Ndenga
André Destin, initially a saxophonist, was gifted with the ability to
master virtually any instrument within a few days and quickly became an
expert in South-American rhythms, in particular, Cuban Son and Merengue.
Such was his reputation that he was taken, in 1962, by force and made
director of the Presidential Orchestra, <strong>Les Golden Sounds</strong>. <em>Yondja</em> and <em>Ngamba</em>, both composed in 1976 and released as singles by Sonafric, were inspired by the Afrobeat sounds of <strong>Fela Kuti </strong>and feature fine brass lines, interwoven amongst the lyrics and strings.</p>
<p>The third musician here with a Bamiléké heritage is <strong>Pierre Didy Tchakounte</strong>,
who, from the age of 15, had begun to create modern interpretations of
traditional songs. His recording career began in 1973 with a slab of
funky soul that is Ma Fou Fou, followed a year later with his second
single, the smoky, slinky <em>Monde Moderne</em>, which became a huge
hit. Both songs appear here, the latter being released as the third
single from the album. Along with his band, Les Tulipes Noires, he
later had numerous hits with ‘westernised’ music whilst never turning
his back on his heritage.</p>
<p>Possibly the most recognisable name on the album is the near-mythical
Los Camaroes (de Marou). A powerhouse Soukhous band who could play
anything from Congolese rhumba, merengue and highlife, through to soul
and funk, they released some 20 odd singles on the Sonafric label
between 1973 and 1977. Their music was played constantly on Cameroon’s
national radio station, elevating them to superstar status within the
country. The two songs presented here, the reggae-tinged <em>Ma Wde Wa </em>and <strong>James Brown</strong>-like funk of <em>Esele Mulema Moam</em>, feature the lead vocal and guitar of the charismatic leader <strong>Messi Martin</strong>, who was instrumental in modernising the music of Cameroon.</p>
<p>Regarded as one of Cameron’s greatest musical arrangers, <strong>Louis Wasson</strong>
played with L´Orchestre Kandem Irenée, who became the backing band that
supported an entire generation of Cameroon musicians over the two
decades of the 1960s and 70s. Their contribution here, Song Of Love,
was the second single released from the album. The fourth and final
single to be released on the same day as the album will be Mayi Bo Ya?,
the first composition by Johnny Black et Les Jokers. Sung in Ewondo, a
Béti dialect, by the man born Nga Martin, a huge fan of Otis Redding and
James Brown, the song was recorded in a single take in 1974 and fairly
zips along with percussive cross-rhythms and chunky organ figures
providing a fascinating counterpoint to the vocal lines.</p>
<p>Johnny also features, as the writer and composer of <em>Les Souffrances, </em>a song originally released in 1975 as the first recording for <strong>Tsanga Dieudonné</strong>.
Featuring Tsanga’s wonderful Farfisa playing, tasteful brass and
humorous lyrics relating to mundane daily situations faced by ordinary
Cameroonians, it became an instant hit there.</p><p>Notwithstanding the ‘funk’ umbrella under which all of the songs on
the album sit, variety is the watchword for the other four tracks on the
release. <em>Odylife</em> from the <strong>Damas Swing Orchestra </strong>is a jazzy, piano-led piece, whilst <em>Quiero Wapatcha</em> has a Mexican, almost mariachi, vibe. The quality of the music here, from <strong>Charles Lembe et Son Orchestra</strong>,
reflecting the posthumous award of the Medal for Knight of the National
Order of Valor he received for services to Cameroonian music. <em>Moni Ngan</em> from <strong>Willie Songue et Les Showmen features splendid</strong> sax playing, whilst <em>Woman Be Fire</em>, the only 45 rpm released by <strong>Lucas Tala,</strong> is heavy on the percussion with absorbing keys. The vocals, however, on these latter two might be an acquired taste.</p>
<p>Rounding off the CD (there is a different running order on the vinyl release) is <strong>Mballa Bony</strong> with <em>Mezik Me Mema</em>,
the gently, lilting brass, funky voice and guitar solo all melding
together perfectly. The song and artist have a fascinating back-story
involving military service, travel to Nigeria to record and using a
military attachment in France to secure a record deal with Sonafric.</p>
<p>As a project, this Sonafric safari is a triumph in unearthing and
presenting the music and musicians of Yaoundé’s underground music scene
of some 50 years ago. The legacy offered here illustrates the
timelessness of the music and is highly recommended.</p><p><b><a href="https://www.folkradio.co.uk/2021/08/various-cameroon-garage-funk/">folkradio.co.uk</a></b> </p><p> - - - - - -</p><p><strong>Germany's Analog Africa have been on something of a roll
lately. Between the much-loved archival label's ongoing reissue campaign
of their own scarcer back-catalogues titles and a string of reliably
fantastic new titles, the Berlin-based outfit have managed to
confidently assert themselves as one of the most vital reissue labels of
the current moment. </strong></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Though eclectic in both their
cultural backgrounds and stylistic approaches, the artists favoured by
the label tend to—as its name would suggest—tail from Africa, though
founder Samy Ben Redjeb also possesses an evident penchant for South
America's sonic heritage, as his label's frequent sojourns to that
particular continent demonstrate. For their latest release, though,
they've headed back to Africa in service of anthologising the frenetic
auditory salvos collated on Cameroon Garage Funk 1964 - 1979. A series
of sixteen livewire explosions in sound, the songs here are immediate,
vital and instantaneously engaging—all qualities which lend this set a
magnetism that's difficult to resist.</span>
</p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Though by no means strangers to
high-quality vinyl releases, Analog Africa have really outdone
themselves this time. Long-term followers of their output will be well
aware of the label's scrupulous attention to detail, a trait borne out
in the meticulously-researched booklets which are included with the bulk
of their releases, as well as the reliably striking visual aesthetic
which adorns every release. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">The cover itself is highly
impressive:an arresting, broad-spined gatefold wrought from weighty
textured card, the sleeve is one which presents the prospective buyer
with a definite air of luxury before the records themselves have even
hit the deck. The booklet is likewise a treat, visually impressive and
of stout quality; the reading material is informative and astute,
lending a welcome context to Cameroon Garage Funk's sixteen compositions
that proves particularly enlightening for those previously unfamiliar
with the artists highlighted here.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">At over an hour in length, the
compilation's capacious runtime is enough to necessitate its
presentation over two separate LPs. With each side therefore clocking in
at just a little over a quarter of an hour, there's certainly no risk
of the inner groove distortion or other sonic maladies which can
all-too-often plague records where too great an amount of music has been
pressed onto any given side. Indeed, the audio quality is impressive
throughout; remastering has been carried out on each of these sixteen
compositions, lending them a crispness impressive for any recordings of
their vintage. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">The auditory quality of the pressings
is likewise excellent; though neither of the two mid-weight black vinyl
LPs sat perfectly flat upon the platter in the case of our example,
both records offer very clean playback, bearing not a single notable
imperfection at any point across the compilation's hour-plus runtime.
Both records were also visually commendable, boasting handsome lustres
free of the surface blemishes which can—rather frustratingly—appear on
brand-new records manufactured at certain pressing plants.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Another captivating compilation from
one of Europe's most important archival labels, Cameroon Garage Funk is a
joy from start-to-finish, both in regards to its electrifying musical
content and its top-notch vinyl release. Classy in its presentation,
thorough in its background research and impressive in its sound quality,
this is an easy release to recommend to any with an interest in
infectious, funky grooves and high-energy auditory workouts.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight: 400;"><b><a href="https://www.gigwise.com/reviews/3407946/vinyl-revue--cameroon-garage-funk-1964---1979--analog-africa-">gigwise.com</a></b> </span></p><p> </p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-49743603258401622162021-08-06T10:01:00.000+02:002021-08-06T10:01:06.184+02:00Bombino - Nomad<p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_BJDJpMKAfk/YQzrCnwhLPI/AAAAAAAABoU/vklYoDACdi8Bynbdmh-PUE1RYMCJF5FowCLcBGAsYHQ/s700/bombino3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="700" height="254" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_BJDJpMKAfk/YQzrCnwhLPI/AAAAAAAABoU/vklYoDACdi8Bynbdmh-PUE1RYMCJF5FowCLcBGAsYHQ/w371-h254/bombino3.jpg" width="371" /></i> </a> </p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="dcr-1i2w9iu"><span class="dcr-1jnp7wy">T</span></span><span class="dcr-1m34hpq">he
meeting of western rock stars and non-western musicians is so fraught
with potential pitfalls, it's a wonder any decent records ever come of
it at all. Cross-pollination is hampered by gaps in language, by
preconceptions (on both sides), by label demands for a marketable
product, by the suspicion that someone might be using someone, or that
the wider audience being sought might be put off by music too far off
their wavelengths. The opposite fear is true too: that the cognoscenti
will be alienated by watered-down fusions.</span></span></p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq"><span style="font-size: small;">Fortunately, these are not issues that besmirch <em>Nomad</em>, the third album by Omara "Bombino" Moctar – a member of the Tuareg Ifoghas
clan, usually based in Agadez, Niger – overmuch. It was recorded
respectfully, and predominantly live, by Dan Auerbach, leader of the hugely successful Black Keys, in his Nashville studio. He could have made an ugly hash of it, but, as with his previous work with Dr John,
Auerbach has proved once again to be a very sympathetic arranger,
adding crunch and a little local southern sweetness to Bombino's music.</span></p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the most easily exportable world sounds of
recent times has been the desert blues of the Tuareg people of north
and north-west Africa. This rolling, 1,000-yard-stare music is not hard
on the western ear; its incandescent licks and fluid grooves would set
most rock types to weeping. <em>Nomad</em>'s opener, Amidinine, has everything – perpetual motion, a chanted chorus, rocked-up drums and flashes of bluesy brilliance. Azamane Tiliade powers up irresistibly, with whooping throughout, and little solos where you can virtually hear Bombino grinning.</span></p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq"><span style="font-size: small;">Rock
also loves a rebel. The blue-robed Tuareg have been frequently engaged
in armed struggles over land rights; struggles complicated by the
regional and religious politics of hotspots such as Mali and Libya. Trailblazers such as Tinariwen were the musical wing of the Tuareg rebellion. This record comes in the wake of recent hostilities in Mali, and partly serves as another reaffirmation of Tuareg culture in the face of mass deracination.</span></p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq"><span style="font-size: small;">Moctar
himself grew up in a series of refugee camps, crucibles where
traditional Tuareg music somehow became alloyed with the penetrating
guitar lines of Mark Knopfler. Although he was something of a child
prodigy, Moctar is no greenhorn now, having served an apprenticeship
under Tuareg guitar master Haja Bebe where he earned his nickname ("the
kid"). Bombino has two previous albums under his belt and was the subject of a 2011 documentary
that spread word of his prodigious, faintly Hendrix-like, playing. This
western album pushes the Bombino story along persuasively.</span></p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq"><span style="font-size: small;">Keyboards
figure, where desert rock traditionally has none. They are really not
that startling. The plangent wooze of lap steel isn't wrong either,
adding a note of ghostly succour to the lovely closing track,
Tamiditine. A vibes solo on Imuhar really sticks out, but to a western
ear it sounds great. A Tuareg might feel differently.</span></p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq"><span style="font-size: small;">You don't need a strong grasp of Tamasheq to notice Bombino has a song called Imidiwan (Friends), also the title of a track by Tinariwen.
(Here, it is not too far off country music.) This reiteration
underlines the commonality of heritage and purpose between the kid and
his better-known elders; you wonder idly whether Group Bombino (what his
band used to be called) has become Bombino to diversify a star from the
other Tuareg collectives. Ultimately, though, you can get too cynical
about these things. This is fine internationalist guitar music. Niamey
Jam finds everyone in the studio – Group Bombino, plus Auerbach and four
session musicians – chuntering along quite famously.</span></p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq"> <b><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2013/mar/31/bombino-nomad-album-review">theguardian.com</a></b></p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq"> - - - - - </p><p class="dcr-1m34hpq">Tuareg guitarist and songwriter Omara “Bombino” Moctar is undeniably a
man of many talents, but he seems to have his work cut out with the
Saharan desert blues genre having been so convincingly sewn up by the
titanic presence of <strong>Tinariwen</strong>. Finding an international
audience in the shadow of one of the most acclaimed acts on the world
music scene is a Herculean task. It’s lucky then that musical King Midas
and one half of <strong>The Black Keys</strong>, Dan Auerbach, is on
hand to produce and provide studio space at his own Easy Eye Sound
studio in Nashville – a far cry from Bombino’s native Niger.
</p><p>Last year Auerbach produced a blistering set for<strong> Dr John</strong> in the form of the brilliant Locked Down,
and the sprinkling of fairy dust he applies is just as evident here.
Although the music is still very much part of the African continent, the
fuzzy blues licks could easily find a home on the resurgent American
blues roster.</p>
<p>Bombino’s musical education has its genesis in turmoil, with the
Tuareg tribe being forced to flee Niger on several occasions. During one
exile a rebel left a guitar behind with Moctar’s family and Bombino
(meaning “little child”) began to teach himself the basics, including
spending hours watching videos of <strong>Jimi Hendrix</strong> and <strong>Mark Knopfler</strong>.
There followed roles in local bands and small-scale cassette releases
before greater recognition began in 2009. Given the western influence on
his development it’s no surprise that Auerbach’s production fits
Bombino like a glove.</p>
<p>Opening track Amidinine set the tone with a dirty blues lick forming
the sonic equivalent of finding a case of Jack Daniels at a desert
oasis. While many would be distracted by Auerbach’s presence, it’s
Bombino’s guitar that’s the real star of the show. His deft playing,
off-kilter and juxtaposed riffs never let up over the course of the
album’s 11 tracks. Other highlights include Azamane Tiliade, in which a
wall of guitar overdubs produces an alighty slab of noise, and Niamey
Jam’s near-psychedelic tendencies. Elsewhere, the pace varies with more
subtle tracks including the atmospheric Imuhar and Imidiwan.</p>
<p>Overall, this is a highly enjoyable work packed with infectious licks
and proves to be an easy album to get along with from the get-go. The
album’s title suggests that Bombino won’t let the grass grow under his
feet for long, and it would be interesting to see his next move after
the forthcoming European tour. Auerbach has delivered another crisply
produced effort; given the variety of work he has produced since El
Camino, the next steps for The Black Keys will be equally intriguing. In
the meantime, sit back and enjoy.</p><p> <b><a href="https://www.musicomh.com/reviews/albums/bombino-nomad">musicomh.com</a></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dds6XymCD5g/YQzrM01Y-vI/AAAAAAAABoY/z5Y0FFFmoGMSCQwrKQYyN0lLNJIRTwGtQCLcBGAsYHQ/s600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="368" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dds6XymCD5g/YQzrM01Y-vI/AAAAAAAABoY/z5Y0FFFmoGMSCQwrKQYyN0lLNJIRTwGtQCLcBGAsYHQ/w368-h368/cover.jpg" width="368" /></a></div><br /> <br /><p></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-3590319928216521252021-08-04T11:50:00.001+02:002021-08-04T11:50:19.733+02:00 Cameroon Garage Funk (by analog africa)<p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zE-RGEGtyQA/YQpiQT1IInI/AAAAAAAABoM/bcxjibT11TgWKz5ipuOfXhhvFCGNlOY8gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="402" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zE-RGEGtyQA/YQpiQT1IInI/AAAAAAAABoM/bcxjibT11TgWKz5ipuOfXhhvFCGNlOY8gCLcBGAsYHQ/w402-h402/cover.jpg" width="402" /> </a> Yaoundé, in the 1970´s, was a
buzzing place. Every neighbourhood of Cameroon´s capital, no matter how
dodgy, was filled with music spots but surprisingly there were no
infrastructure to immortalise those musical riches. The country suffered
from a serious lack of proper recording facilities, and the process of
committing your song to tape could become a whole adventure unto itself.
Of course, you could always book the national broadcasting company
together with a sound engineer, but this was hardly an option for
underground artists with no cash. But luckily an alternative option
emerged in form of an adventist church with some good recording
equipment and many of the artists on this compilation recorded their
first few songs, secretly, in these premises thanks to Monsieur Awono,
the church engineer. He knew the schedule of the priests and, in
exchange for some cash, he would arrange recording sessions. The artists
still had to bring their own equipment, and since there was only one
microphone, the amps and instruments had to be positioned perfectly. It
was a risky business for everyone involved but since they knew they were
making history, it was all worth it.
<br /></p><div class="tralbumData tralbum-about">
<br />
At the end of the recording, the master reel would be handed to whoever had paid for the session, usually the artist<span class="bcTruncateMore">
himself..and what happened next? With no distribution nor recording
companies around this was a legitimate question. More often then not it
was the french label Sonafric that would offer their manufacturing and
distribution structure and many Cameroonian artist used that platform to
kickstart their career. What is particularly surprising in the case of
Sonafric was their willingness to take chances and judge music solely on
their merit rather than their commercial viability. The sheer amount of
seriously crazy music released also spoke volumes about the openness of
the people behind the label.
<br />
<br />
But who exactly are these artists that recorded one or two songs before
disappearing, never to be heard from again? Some of the names were so
obscure that even the most seasoned veterans of the Cameroonian music
scene had never heard of them. A few trips to the land of Makossa and
many more hours of interviews were necessary to get enough insight to
assemble the puzzle-pieces of Yaoundé’s buzzing 1970s music scene. We
learned that despite the myriad difficulties involved in the simple
process of making and releasing a record, the musicians of Yaoundé’s
underground music scene left behind an extraordinary legacy of raw
grooves and magnificent tunes.
<br />
<br />
The songs may have been recorded in a church, with a single microphone
in the span of only an hour or two, but the fact that we still pay
attention to these great creations some 50 years later, only illustrates
the timelessness of their music.</span><span> </span></div>
<h3 class="credits-label"></h3>
<div class="tralbumData tralbum-credits">
releases September 3, 2021 </div><div class="tralbumData tralbum-credits"> </div><div class="tralbumData tralbum-credits"><b><a href="https://analogafrica.bandcamp.com/album/cameroon-garage-funk">analogafrica.bandcamp.com</a></b> </div><p> </p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-85946204004152404282021-08-03T10:23:00.005+02:002021-08-03T10:23:34.651+02:00Songhoy Blues - Optimisme<p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MY_4QJ8xmoQ/YQjyU7HnTQI/AAAAAAAABn4/2yNTyw-0lGo50oW5px8BchTp3r0a-kjrQCLcBGAsYHQ/s696/songhoy-blues_Kiss-Diouara-696x522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="696" height="279" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MY_4QJ8xmoQ/YQjyU7HnTQI/AAAAAAAABn4/2yNTyw-0lGo50oW5px8BchTp3r0a-kjrQCLcBGAsYHQ/w372-h279/songhoy-blues_Kiss-Diouara-696x522.jpg" width="372" /></a> </p><p> <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><p>It’s impossible to separate <strong>Songhoy Blues</strong> and
politics. Formed in 2012 as a direct result of being forced from their
homes, after rebel jihadists took control of northern Mali and outlawed
all music, the band were refugees in their own land when they attempted
to start new lives in the capital city of Bamako, down in the south.
They took their name from the centuries-old ethnic group they belonged
to, just as their music was conceived as a desert blues celebration of a
displaced culture.</p>
<p>A guest slot on <strong>Maison Des Jeunes</strong>, from Damon Albarn’s <strong>Africa Express</strong>, led to their aptly titled 2015 debut, <strong>Music In Exile</strong>, which coincided with an appearance in <strong>They Will Have To Kill Us First</strong>,
an award-winning documentary about Malian musicians’ struggle to be
heard during the crisis. Amid fluctuating levels of civil war, <strong>Résistance</strong> followed two years later. The arrival of <strong>Optimisme</strong> comes in the wake of an insurgent summer, when a military coup seized power from President Keita.</p>
<p>As the title implies, <strong>Optimisme</strong> finds <strong>Songhoy Blues</strong>
tackling adversity and national unrest with a generous dollop of
positivity. The anger may be palpable, but they don’t go in for bitter
polemic. Instead the quartet – frontman <strong>Aliou Touré</strong>, guitarist <strong>Garba Touré</strong>, bass player <strong>Oumar Touré</strong> (none of whom are related, incidentally) and new drummer <strong>Drissa Koné</strong> – choose to spread the message via impossibly infectious grooves and an exhilarating sense of forward motion.</p><p>This is partly down to producer <strong>Matt Sweeney</strong>, leader of math-rockers <strong>Chavez</strong> and sometime <strong>Bonnie “Prince” Billy</strong>
collaborator. Reprising his role from last year’s “Meet Me In The City”
EP, Sweeney urged the band to replicate the dynamic intensity of their
live shows, recording the album over the course of a week in Brooklyn,
at the back end of a US tour.</p>
<p>Stylistically, <strong>Optimisme</strong> is a bubbling conflux of West African polyrhythms and elastic guitar rock. A more concentrated vision than <strong>Résistance</strong>,
which found space for R&B and fanfares of brass, at times it hits
harder and heavier than anything they’ve attempted before. “Badala”
(rough translation: ‘We Don’t Give A Shit’) certainly fulfils its
intention, hurtling along like something from late-’70s Thin Lizzy.
“Korfo” (‘Chains’) comes at it from a different angle, all blended
vocals and an ear-bending melody, before transforming itself into an
unstoppable rock beast. As the son of Ali Farka Touré’s old
percussionist Oumar Touré, <strong>Garba Touré</strong> lives up to his
musical pedigree with some vigour, either locking into a trebly vamp or,
as on “Worry” or “Dournia” (‘Life’), a seriously shreddy solo.</p>
<p>Other songs feel more distinctly Malian in form. “Assadja” and “Fey
Fey”, for instance, are each carried by liquid grooves that beg you to
shake a hip, further animated by surging beats and <strong>Aliou Touré’s</strong>
agile vocals. Most of these tunes are delivered in Songhai, though
there’s the odd excursion into colonial French and, for the first time,
English, in the shape of “Worry”. The song is aimed at the younger
generation in Mali, in particular the need to keep self-possessed and
hopeful amid so much civil turbulence. “There is a long way to go/There
is a long journey,” sings <strong>Aliou Touré</strong>, more in encouragement than despair. “Keep fighting today.”</p><p>The more ingrained aspects of cultural tradition are addressed on
several songs about women’s rights. “Gabi” (‘Strength’) calls for an end
to arranged marriages, told from the viewpoint of a reluctant
bride-to-be trying to reason with her parents: “Let me tell you that our
generation is different from yours… Let me choose the one I want.”
Similarly, the thunderous noise of “Badala” reflects its protagonist’s
decision to break free from the patriarchy and shape her own future.</p>
<p>These themes feed into wider questions of national identity. The
warrior meaning behind “Assadja” relates to a person’s willingness to
contribute to society. “Fey Fey” (‘Division’) recognises the various
factions looking to separate Mali, but urges ethnic communities to stick
together, just as they have done for centuries: “Even at the cost of
our blood or our soul/We are not going to give in to the division of
Mali.” By the same token, “Barre” (‘Change’) finds <strong>Songhoy Blues</strong>
concluding that the key to their country’s future lies with its youth.
Corruption and injustice may have become the norm, but “change is
essential for development”. Over loose funk licks and percussive
harmonies, the band’s mission is unequivocal: “Youth! Let’s rise for
this change!” As protest music goes, <strong>Songhoy Blues</strong> are intent on mobilising hearts and minds in their own inimitable way, through force of will and sheer exuberance.</p><p><b><a href="https://www.uncut.co.uk/reviews/album/songhoy-blues-optimisme-128432/">uncut.co.uk</a></b> </p><p>- - - -</p><p>An exciting blend of Malian rhythms and rock‘n’roll, Optimisme is a
reminder of music’s power to transcend both national and linguistic
boundaries. It boasts searing guitar licks, powerhouse percussion and
multiple languages, But Songhoy Blues are political to the marrow.</p>
<p>The record opens with a bang, thanks to the ferocious ‘Badala’, a
healthy dose of hard rock that screams of a desire to break free from
the constraints of oppression. The theme of striving for freedom is
ingrained within the group, comprised of refugees from a country divided
by war and ideology. It sets the stage for a record that embraces the
high energy of live rock. The blues-inspired chord progressions are
combined with infectious guitar solos, modernising the sounds of classic
rock with a unique global influence. Every layer is tightly controlled,
yet feels carefree in its enthralling exploration of a kind of modern
punk.</p>
<p>Optimisme offers some moments of mild solace between its
hardest-hitters, bringing together elements of psychedelic funk and
desert blues. ‘Worry’, the only English track on the record, offers a
message of hope – an important note, in a world that’s been consumed by
existential anxiety. The vocals – showcasing a distinctly African style
of singing, involving an astounding level of voice control – are
entrancing no matter what language the lyrics are being sung in. The
voice becomes yet another instrument within the band’s marvellously
layered collection of eclectic sounds. Above all else, Optimisme feels
urgent. Songhoy Blues’ unique desert blues herald a new future beyond
the sonic constraints of the classics.</p><p><b><a href="https://www.hotpress.com/music/album-review-songhoy-blues-optimisme-22830901">hotpress.com</a></b> </p><p> - - - - - </p><p>If you come to the third Songhoy Blues
record thinking this is going to be more of that instantly recognisable
granola/Birkenstocks/family friendly ‘World Music’ you think you know
from Paul Simon
or the WOMAD festival, you might want to take a seat and strap in,
because things are about to get really unstable really quickly:
Optimisme is more Garageland than Graceland in its approach.
</p><p>The aggressive drums that herald opening track Badala allude to Dave Grohl’s killer intro on Nirvana’s Stay Away, while the guitar riffs, steeped in the Western blues tradition of Led Zeppelin’s back catalogue, lash out with a malevolence reticent of teenage favourites like Rage Against The Machine and Papa Roach.</p>
<p>It’s not until the vocals come in, sung and screamed as they are in
the group’s native Songhai, that you remember this quartet of young rock
warriors hail from the scorched landscape of war stricken Mali, not the
dank factories and garages of Detroit or Chicago. That exposure to
conflict, impoverishment and discontent means the optimism the Timbuktu
outfit infer in the title doesn’t appear to be present initially,
especially in the song’s chorus, which roughly translates, as “We don’t
give a shit”.</p><p>Their flammable classic debut five years ago was produced by Nick Zinner; he of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and to keep that indie rock light alive, they’ve recruited the dexterous hand of Chavez’s
Matt Sweeney for this effort. It is the sound of turmoil and
transitional surroundings. On tracks like Assadja, Sweeney has wrapped
their signature urgent but elusively filigree guitar work around the
foregrounded drums, letting them take root, rather than have them
bouncing off one another.</p>
<p>Both the funk stomper Bon Bon and the highlife inspired Fey Fey
feature jumpy guitar signatures that John Frusciante would be proud of,
and the tracks Bare and Korfo foam and twist like dust storms carried
across the breeze. Worry, the albums sole track sung in the English
language, begins with the near saccharine positivity of early Beatles quickly giving way to a coda reminiscent of late ’70s John Lennon,
a man at his most politically defiant, with the lyric morphing from
“don’t worry, you’re going to be happy” to a pleading chorus of “Keep
fighting today”.</p>
<p>It can be draining having to fight all the time and on Pour Toi and
the album closer Kouma, the closest you’ll probably ever get to an
acoustic number from Songhoy Blues, you start to see signs of them
pursuing a little calm into their world, and all that frustration and
exuberance that’s become their trademark, live and on record, is
replaced with tiny sparks of hopefulness.</p><p><b><a href=" https://www.musicomh.com/reviews/albums/songhoy-blues-optimisme">musicomh.com</a></b><br /></p> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fVEntyW_KCc/YQjyacOb1NI/AAAAAAAABn8/MhiCnHjDOVEyrYovi09M0p88u4OYTQEzgCLcBGAsYHQ/s425/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="425" height="370" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fVEntyW_KCc/YQjyacOb1NI/AAAAAAAABn8/MhiCnHjDOVEyrYovi09M0p88u4OYTQEzgCLcBGAsYHQ/w370-h370/cover.jpg" width="370" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><br /><p></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-68586043284026306392021-06-22T11:04:00.000+02:002021-06-22T11:04:10.364+02:00From Chile: Newen Afrobeat- Curiche <p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFjzgazDRec/YNGmjWk0rdI/AAAAAAAABmw/E9mObsXFNjo8wMG5NTAu_KRwL4wCwkkPACLcBGAsYHQ/s960/band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="203" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFjzgazDRec/YNGmjWk0rdI/AAAAAAAABmw/E9mObsXFNjo8wMG5NTAu_KRwL4wCwkkPACLcBGAsYHQ/w361-h203/band.jpg" width="361" /></a>Second LP from Newen Afrobeat that resume the research of the chilean
orchestra with the masters of afrobeat and their visits to afrobeat´s
homeland in Lagos, Nigeria. A extremely energetic album that talks about
inequality, migration, female rol, indegenous cultures and more. </p><p><a href="https://newenafrobeat.bandcamp.com/album/curiche">newenafrobeat.bandcamp.com</a> </p><p> - - - - -</p><p>Album opener ‘Vuela Junto a Mi’ (‘Fly with me’) is a successful
fusion of afrobeat and Andean music, with crisp brass and a clever
rhythmic conversation between the chattering kit beats associated with <strong>Tony</strong> <strong>Allen</strong> and Andean drumming.</p>
<p>Spanish replaces afrobeat’s lingua franca pidgin on <em>Curiche</em>, adding a different feel to tunes like ‘Come y Calla’ (‘Eat and shut up’), which channels <strong>Fela</strong> <strong>Kuti</strong>’s directness in a searing critique on power.</p><p>Like the modern afrobeat of the Kuti dynasty (<strong>Seun</strong> and <strong>Femi</strong>),
Newen’s tunes also begin with an instrumental break, but come to the
matter (the vocal) earlier than Fela would on his songs, which often
took up one side of vinyl!</p>
<p>‘Voraz’ (‘Ravenous’) is one such standout track about the frenetic
pace of daily life, with a tempo to match, elastic guitar lines and the
driving <em>Igbo</em> woodblock that keeps time called <em>okpokolo</em>.</p>
<p>‘Open Your Eyes’, the single track on the album to feature a Nigerian musician in <a class="external" href="https://kologbo.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank"><strong>Oghene Kologbo</strong></a>, is perversely a less memorable composition.</p><p>Kologbo played guitar in Fela’s <strong>Africa 70</strong> and contributes the lead vocal here, which, to be fair, is not playing to his strengths.</p>
<p>Afrobeat, like reggae, has been globalised, and it would be
interesting to hear what the genre’s elder would have to say about it.</p>
<p><em>Curiche</em>, then, is a decent addition to this movement, with
Newen at their best when bringing their own musical vocabulary to the
music rather than imitating.</p><p><a href="https://www.rhythmpassport.com/articles-and-reviews/album-review/album-review-newen-afrobeat-curiche-may-2019/">rhythmpassport.com</a> </p><p> <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4mbQAkw-QTM/YNGmsi2eHHI/AAAAAAAABm0/esyMHfruoBwythgyPFQB8fO4MppNNrYwACLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="357" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4mbQAkw-QTM/YNGmsi2eHHI/AAAAAAAABm0/esyMHfruoBwythgyPFQB8fO4MppNNrYwACLcBGAsYHQ/w357-h357/cover.jpg" width="357" /></a></p><br />mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-83790891952123603582021-06-14T16:17:00.002+02:002021-06-14T16:17:18.797+02:00Orchestre Poly-Rythmo De Cotonou Dahomey - Le Sato<p> <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BPbgQW_G1Pw/YMdkDLUYkYI/AAAAAAAABmY/GaBcz78RfMQKJtYjza1huiLaEn19jbOHQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1700/band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1391" data-original-width="1700" height="325" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BPbgQW_G1Pw/YMdkDLUYkYI/AAAAAAAABmY/GaBcz78RfMQKJtYjza1huiLaEn19jbOHQCLcBGAsYHQ/w397-h325/band.jpg" width="397" /></a></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><div class="tralbumData tralbum-about">Acid Jazz Records continue their
exclusive licensing agreement with Albarika Store, the legendary record
label that defined the sound of Benin and influenced the entire region
of West Africa and beyond.
<br />
<br />
Recorded and issued in 1974, Le Sato is one of the earliest releases on the Albarika label and it is also one of the deepest.
<br />
<br />
Sato is the term for the traditional rhythms that soundtrack Vodun
(Voodoo) rituals and ceremonies in Benin. Performance of Sato is
reserved for these sacred rites, which evoke the spirits of the dead and
can last for several days and attract hundreds of people. Sato rhythms
cannot be played outside of Vodun.
<br />
<br />
A large ceremonial Sato drum is used, which measured over 1.5m in
height. This drum is played using wooden stick beaters, the drummer
dancing while playing. The Sato drummers are supported by percussionists
and other drummers playing smaller drums. Together, they create unique,
layered, trance-inducing poly-rhythms. </div><div class="tralbumData tralbum-about"> </div><div class="tralbumData tralbum-about"></div><div class="tralbumData tralbum-about"><b><a href="https://albarikastore.bandcamp.com/album/le-sato">albarikastore.bandcamp.com</a></b><br /><br /></div><div class="tralbumData tralbum-about"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEpgofc3KL0/YMdkKuO7KCI/AAAAAAAABmc/494PZCp9BAcCdUYV90GBVqGqHz-PBueNQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEpgofc3KL0/YMdkKuO7KCI/AAAAAAAABmc/494PZCp9BAcCdUYV90GBVqGqHz-PBueNQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEpgofc3KL0/YMdkKuO7KCI/AAAAAAAABmc/494PZCp9BAcCdUYV90GBVqGqHz-PBueNQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="416" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEpgofc3KL0/YMdkKuO7KCI/AAAAAAAABmc/494PZCp9BAcCdUYV90GBVqGqHz-PBueNQCLcBGAsYHQ/w416-h416/cover.jpg" width="416" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><p><br /> <br /></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-10773869049841904962021-06-10T22:03:00.000+02:002021-06-10T22:03:11.467+02:00V.A. Edo Funk Explosion Volume 1 (by analogafrica)<p></p><p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vdo5g5xiQKA/YMJuOHSiAHI/AAAAAAAABmI/SVRZr5-JLOYI4KGX_F_jZc1u-JIGenctACLcBGAsYHQ/s1500/front.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="419" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vdo5g5xiQKA/YMJuOHSiAHI/AAAAAAAABmI/SVRZr5-JLOYI4KGX_F_jZc1u-JIGenctACLcBGAsYHQ/w419-h419/front.jpg" width="419" /></a> </p><p>It was in Benin City, in the heart of Nigeria, that a new hybrid of
<br />intoxicating highlife music known as Edo Funk was born.
<br />It first emerged in the late 1970s when a group of musicians began
<br />to experiment with different ways of integrating elements from their
<br />native Edo culture and fusing them with new sound effects coming
<br />from West Africa ́s night-clubs. Unlike the rather polished 1980 ́s
<br />Nigerian disco productions coming out of the international
<br />metropolis of Lagos Edo Funk was raw and reduced to its bare
<br />minimum.
<br />
<br />Someone was needed to channel this energy into a distinctive sound
<br />and Sir Victor Uwaifo appeared like a mad professor with his Joromi
<br />studio. Uwaifo took the skeletal structure of Edo music and
<br />relentless began fusing them with synthesizers, electric guitars and
<br />80 ́s effect racks which resulted in some of the most outstanding Edo
<br />recordings ever made. An explosive spiced up brew with an odd
<br />psychedelic note dubbed "Edo Funk".
<br />
<br />That's the sound you'll be discovering in the first volume of the
<br />Edo Funk Explosion series which focusses on the genre’s greatest
<br />originators; Osayomore Joseph, Akaba Man, and Sir Victor Uwaifo:
<br />
<br />Osayomore Joseph was one of the first musicians to bring the sound
<br />of the flute into the horn-dominated world of highlife, and his
<br />skills as a performer made him a fixture on the Lagos scene. When he
<br />returned to settle in Benin City in the mid 1970s – at the
<br />invitation of the royal family – he devoted himself to the
<br />modernisation and electrification of Edo music, using funk and Afro-
<br />beat as the building blocks for songs that weren’t afraid to call
<br />out government corruption or confront the dark legacy of Nigeria’s
<br />colonial past.
<br />
<br />Akaba Man was the philosopher king of Edo funk. Less overtly
<br />political than Osayomore Joseph and less psychedelic than Victor
<br />Uwaifo, he found the perfect medium for his message in the trance-
<br />like grooves of Edo funk. With pulsating rhythms awash in cosmic
<br />synth-fields and lyrics that express a deep personal vision, he
<br />found great success at the dawn of the 1980s as one of Benin City’s
<br />most persuasive ambassadors of funky highlife.
<br />
<br />Victor Uwaifo was already a star in Nigeria when he built the
<br />legendary Joromi studios in his hometown of Benin City in 1978.
<br />Using his unique guitar style as the mediating force between West-
<br />African highlife and the traditional rhythms and melodies of Edo
<br />music, he had scored several hits in the early seventies, but once
<br />he had his own sixteen-track facility he was able to pursue his
<br />obsession with the synesthetic possibilities of pure sound, adding
<br />squelchy synths, swirling organs and studio effects to hypnotic
<br />basslines and raw grooves. Between his own records and his
<br />production for other musicians, he quickly established himself as
<br />the godfather of Edo funk.
<br />
<br />What unites these diverse musicians is their ability to strip funk
<br />down to its primal essence and use it as the foundation for their
<br />own excursions inward to the heart of Edo culture and outward to the
<br />furthest limits of sonic alchemy. The twelve tracks on Edo Funk
<br />Explosion Volume 1 pulse with raw inspiration, mixing highlife
<br />horns, driving rhythms, day-glo keyboards and tripped-out guitars
<br />into a funk experience unlike any other.
<br />Double LP pressed on 140g virgin vinyl comes with a full color 20-pages booklet.</p><p> <b><a href="https://www.hhv.de/shop/en/item/v-a-edo-funk-explosion-volume-1-802517?p=mNZxsQ">hhv</a></b></p><p><b> - - - - - </b></p><p>Sometimes you just want to kick your shoes off and relax and cut some rug. And with the first volume of <em>Edo Funk Explosion</em>
you can, gloriously. Packed full of infectious, committed funk music
from the Benin City of the late 1970s, there is a part of me that hopes
the record will become the soundtrack to an increasingly carefree,
virus-banished future. It’s an intoxicating prospect: sounds dug up from
an often turbulent Nigerian past that can now, after 40 years, apply a
healing balm to a fretful and lonely present. But for now we should note
that Edo Funk Explosion is the latest chapter in the story of a
remarkable label, Analog Africa.</p>
<p>Samy Ben Redjeb’s obsessive diggings into forgotten or marginal
musical histories from the African and South American continents have
(sometimes literally) unearthed sounds that have quietly set cultural
agendas this past decade. That should come as no surprise as Analog
Africa releases brilliantly reveal the age-old process of people
listening to other things from elsewhere and then making something
concrete and special from their imaginings. Something we can continue to
celebrate. Previous label series, such as <em>Diablos Del Ritmo</em>,
for example, have highlighted the crossing of music styles established
on the seas routes between Colombia and the west coast of Africa. Edo
Funk Explosion is yet another example of music’s essential, pollinating
properties.</p>
<p><em>Edo Funk Explosion</em> also documents the story of the 16-track
Joromi studios, set up in Benin City by Sir Victor Uwaifo in 1978.
Concentrating on three of the style’s big hitters (Osayomore Joseph,
Akaba Man, and Sir Victor Uwaifo) the record goes for the jugular,
aiming to get us up on our feet with half a dozen slabs of tough,
enervating Edo Funk.</p><p>The backstory is one we’ve heard before in different places; a
sound-obsessed Head – in this case Sir Victor Uwaifo – making crazed
electronic sounds in a home-built studio in the late 1970s. Like Martin
Hannett, King Tubby or Lee Perry, or Romania’s maestro of weird sounds,
Rodion GA. Like these others, Uwaifo took local traditions and
contemporary socio-cultural and political concerns and threw them all
together like herbs in a pot of stew. There is a real sense of Uwaifo,
Osayomore Joseph and Akaba Man and their respective bands really going
for it here and probably why tracks like ‘Iranm Iran’ and ‘Aibalegbe’
feel utterly intoxicating.</p>
<p>None of the tracks sound like they were made to meet the requirements
of a particular audience, they feel like the artists want to go to
places fast, even if some sonic elements fall by the wayside or get
battered by the ride. Sometimes this all-or-nothing attitude gives the
music on this compilation a raw, punkish feel, though they are primarily
built to make people dance. The aforementioned ‘Iranm Iran’ is about as
funky a funk track as you can wish for. Slippery as an eel, the track
wriggles through its allotted 5 minutes with a distinct feeling of elan.
The low organ coming in sideways – and the funny chirpy squeaks and
squawks that pop up on a lot of Sir Victor Uwaifo recordings – really
grease the beat. ‘Aibalegbe’ gently moulds South American traditions
into a spacy groove, mainly courtesy of a splurging synth. and ‘Orono No
de Fade’ by Osayomore Joseph and the Ulele Power Sound also assembles
itself loosely around a lovely, life-giving groove. The softer, maybe
more reflective side of Edo Funk can be heard with Akaba Man’s bubbling
‘Ta Ghi Rare’, a pleasant seven minute brew full of mild psychedelics
such as a weird squeaky synth, an ever ascending bubbling bass and an
aqueous guitar lick that turns up to throw things off course five
minutes in. Plus a beat that seems intent on playing footsie with the
rest of the track. All in all a fantastically disorientating experience.</p>
<p>There is plenty of politics bubbling away under the surface. The
opener ‘Africa Is My Root’, from Osayomore Joseph is a no nonsense funky
stomp that is very much a pan-African rallying call. Joseph’s ‘Who Know
Man’ and ‘My Name Is Money’ have the structural feel and direction of
Fela tracks but the way both tracks are balanced on gentle guitar licks
make them calls to shake hips to, than raise fists.</p>
<p>It’s a superb release.</p><p><b><a href="https://louderthanwar.com/edo-funk-explosion-volume-1-review/">louderthanwar.com</a></b> </p><p> - - - - -</p><p>Nigerian Edo Funk, as presented in this impeccable compilation from <strong>Analog Africa</strong>,
is a mixture of afrobeat, disco, and funk, tinged with overtones of
reggae, and incorporating traditional Edo languages and instruments. In
contrast to the slicker Lagos highlife sounds a couple of states west of
Edo state’s capital, Benin City, the music is characterised by sparse,
repetitive arrangments which call to mind minimalism and dub. The Benin
City of the 70s and 80s was oil-rich and enjoying a period of stability
following the end of the civil war in 1970 – audiences there were
cosmopolitan and adventurous and wanted highlife grooves with a twist
that combined local styles with an international vibe.</p>
<p>Eschewing the scattershot approach of your average compilation, <em>Edo Funk Explosion Vol. 1</em> shines a light on three of the era’s biggest stars, presenting a portmanteau of the work of <strong>Sir Victor Uwaifo</strong>, <strong>Osayomore Joseph</strong> and <strong>Akaba Man</strong>.
In many ways it’s a journey into a vanished, vanishing world – the
informative liner notes compare the elegance of the 70s architecture
with the pretentious villas favoured by today’s affluent classes and
reflect on the contradictions of a country coming out of civil war and
suddenly awash with foreign cash. A newfound self-confidence was
tempered by inevitable political corruption and anxiety over how to
express a modern, distinctly African sensibility.</p>
<p>You can hear this in the first track, ‘<em>Africa is My Root</em>’ by <strong>Osayomore Joseph and the Creative Seven</strong>, with its mocking chorus, ‘<em>You are dancing like a white man / you are dancing like a fool’</em>.
And with such a timeless opening sentiment it hardly matters what the
rest of the LP is like. Genius. In context, the song is making a serious
point about the social mores of post-colonial Africa and about
encouraging an authentically African sense of self-confidence in
throwing off the trappings of a foreign, exploitative culture. Out of
context, I’m like totally guilty as charged here.</p><p>Joseph is cast as the political conscience of the album. A flute
player, his future career was seemingly decided by an early formative
encounter with <strong>Fela Kuti</strong>. Although no recordings of the
two playing together survive, Fela was an admirer of Joseph’s playing
and seems to have inspired the younger artist’s forthright political
stance. Returning to Benin City on a mission to funkify his hometown,
Joseph’s lyrics lay into government corruption and constantly return to
the racist legacies of colonialism. His skewering of the dictatorship in
the 1990s saw him vanish into Nigeria’s prisons for weeks at a time.</p>
<p>Osayomore Joseph is not a subtle man, and so much the better. ‘<em>I am the minister of peace / the minister of criminals / the father of the devil</em>’ he sings on ‘<em>My Name is Money</em>’, over a languorous rocksteady beat. It’s hard not to like the guy.</p>
<p>The dub influence is heard most clearly on the outstanding ‘<em>Sakpaide No. 2</em>’ by <strong>Sir Victor Uwaifo and his Titibitis</strong>.
A titibiti, fact-fans, is the Edo name for the bee hummingbird (why,
what did you think it meant?) It’s the smallest bird in the world and
its cleverness has earned it a place in Edo mythology as the king of the
birds. Anyway, ‘<em>Sakpaide No. 2</em>’ is utterly gripping stuff,
full of the offbeats and tension and the expansive echo you associate
with dub. There’s more though – Edo Funk is never just one thing – the
rhythms and textures are so layered with whacky, improvised touches
within these minimal parameters that you could easily mistake this for <strong>Can</strong> if it wasn’t for the edgy, staccato energy behind those horns.</p><p>Uwaifo, regarded as the most innovative musician of the era, is a
synesthesiac who sees music as shapes and colours and was influenced by
the rhythmic patterns of brightly coloured Akwete textiles. <em>Edo Funk</em>
focusses on his work from 1978 onwards when he was fully ensconced at
Benin Cities Joromi studios and able to play with all the latest
synthesisers and effects. Dip into the instrumental bits of ‘<em>Iranm Iran</em>’
for a sense of the guy’s studio chops. Electronic effects warp the
horns, rhythm guitars and organs into something unique – a cheeky
liminality between cold studio trickery and the thrill of performance.</p>
<p>This sense of playfulness can also be found in the songs of Akaba
Man, chock-full of exuberant and unexpected noises. Akaba Man’s work is
preoccupied with finding a spiritual dimension to a disco beat – the
cover of his most famous album, <em>Obo</em>, shows him carried down
from on high upon an enormous supernatural hand. He’s got a more soulful
thing going on as a vocalist compared to Joseph and Uwaifo, and a
smoother command of melody which more than makes up for the relative
lack of drama in the arrangements and production. Arguably, his music is
the most direct and the most in tune with its Edo roots. In ‘<em>Ogbov Onwan’</em>,
every detail is at the service of the song. While I couldn’t pretend to
have much of an idea what he’s talking about, there’s no doubting how
it comes over at gut level – from the opening guitar riff to the opening
up of the melody into the jams that propel us from one verse to the
next – this is killer stuff.</p><p>Picking out a trio of artists like this works well, enabling a deep dive
into their scene and drawing out all kinds of interesting points of
continuity and difference that a wider selection of voices might
obscure. And as you’d expect from Analog Africa, this is a ridiculously
good stack of tunes. An essential compilation and hopefully the first of
many.</p><p><b><a href="https://www.godisinthetvzine.co.uk/2021/03/29/various-edo-funk-explosion-vol-1-analogue-africa/">godisinthetvzine.co.uk</a></b> <br /></p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-doLx8sqLKnM/YMJuTMRJLAI/AAAAAAAABmM/nkikg6DeUnEEB5-sVkBRIRgc1XjmHrKAACLcBGAsYHQ/s600/back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="419" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-doLx8sqLKnM/YMJuTMRJLAI/AAAAAAAABmM/nkikg6DeUnEEB5-sVkBRIRgc1XjmHrKAACLcBGAsYHQ/w419-h419/back.jpg" width="419" /></a></div><br /> <br /><p></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-63330997644326538472021-06-08T09:30:00.004+02:002021-06-08T09:30:45.899+02:00Joro - Manipulation EP <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JouVkj51n_A/YL8cielGQPI/AAAAAAAABmA/ZvML_PpNcSAEsShFdx-Sbae7Zn5xBRbzwCLcBGAsYHQ/s756/band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="756" height="256" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JouVkj51n_A/YL8cielGQPI/AAAAAAAABmA/ZvML_PpNcSAEsShFdx-Sbae7Zn5xBRbzwCLcBGAsYHQ/w385-h256/band.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>Long JORO are a 10-piece afrobeat band from London, England. The band
formed in early 2016 and released their selfrecorded EP in July 2016.
This release featured a mix of original music and new arrangements of
some of their favourite afrobeat tracks. The band consists of musicians
from a range of musical backgrounds who have come together due to
their shared love of afrobeat and groove music. The band’s past musical
experiences in jazz, hip hop and rock come through in their music and
create a unique take on the traditional afrobeat sound. In August 2016
their version of the Fela Kuti classic Zombie was featured on US radio
show, The Afrobeat Show with DJ Meredith. </p><p><a href="https://www.pizzaexpresslive.com/whats-on/joro-afrobeat">pizzaexpresslive.com</a> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fCOhC6yyCaA/YL8buWrCV8I/AAAAAAAABl4/26WHyUSiiwMJZ9Y04yLuUtBXM8CLdDPdQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="387" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fCOhC6yyCaA/YL8buWrCV8I/AAAAAAAABl4/26WHyUSiiwMJZ9Y04yLuUtBXM8CLdDPdQCLcBGAsYHQ/w387-h387/cover.jpg" width="387" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><a href="https://joroafrobeat.bandcamp.com/album/manipulation-ep-2">joroafrobeat.bandcamp.com</a></b><br /></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-83026930541770789822021-06-04T11:32:00.005+02:002021-06-04T11:32:48.596+02:00Vaudou Game - Noussin<p> <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hyFKq75vXKs/YLnydyBtWUI/AAAAAAAABlo/p_FXiDPCZZ8vpg_LZ6xOrzMPySyCt3X9ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/band.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="404" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hyFKq75vXKs/YLnydyBtWUI/AAAAAAAABlo/p_FXiDPCZZ8vpg_LZ6xOrzMPySyCt3X9ACLcBGAsYHQ/w404-h404/band.jpg" width="404" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">African, funky, sarcastic, bewitching, green, ecstatic: these words
collide to describe Vaudou Game and all of them are true. Noussin is the
fourth album of the french Afro Funk band. Forced into lockdown, like
much of the planet, Peter Solo and his Vaudou Game had no choice but to
retreat into the studio. A reunion to once again invoke the spiritual
forces of the Voodoo Deities. A reunion that was Initially imagined for
an EP…yet these spiritual forces behind that imagination yearned for
something more, and as we all know, these forces are impossible to push
away once they have decided to stay. Under the strain enforced by the
current socioeconomic climate, as much as by the environmental peril
that faces us all today - they diverted the course of the groove towards
daring new vibrations. Without extinguishing or diminishing its highly
communicative power, they released Vaudou Game from its origins of pure
Afro-Funk to gradually engage into compositions which crystallized
themselves into tones resembling more rock than funk. On this fourth
album, with an entirely revisited line-up, Peter Solo separates for the
first time in his career from his brassy guard, leaving saxophone,
trumpet and trombone outside to invite an arsenal of keyboards to
define, with him, this new voodoo sound. A sound, as usual, built on
vintage and precise analogical material - grime even on the white side
of the tape, a blunt instrument used to blanket anything that strived to
shine too much in the mix. Graced with tapered guitars stringing out
rhythmic bumps or withdrawing a few beats to indulge in infectious
solos, this album is boisterously alive with vintage 70's Funk, infused
with a few digressions into other ethers of the funk timeline, nicking
different sounds and frequencies to render the black and white keys of
an inspired keyboard to reach new euphoric levels of melodic acidity.
Tearing off the enigmatic mask to reveal his true face: on a few titles,
Peter Solo ventures outside of his sacred voodoo range to reconnect
with his London years, these titles feature small nods to the time he
spent in “The Smoke” where the incantations of British music culture
were written within him. Noussin which means “Stay strong” in Mina, a
dialect spoken in the south-west of Togo. Noussin, a message of hope as
much as a call to come together to weather the turmoil and to come out
better on the other side. Don’t let them grind you down…Noussin!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><a href="https://www.hhv.de/shop/de/artikel/vaudou-game-noussin-827459?p=mNZxsQ">hhv.de</a> </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gxLoqejb9po/YLnyqGXPKiI/AAAAAAAABls/P6qewKjr3zgo5QaRZ6OjzsyZM6qGN1iYwCLcBGAsYHQ/s970/827459.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="970" data-original-width="970" height="402" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gxLoqejb9po/YLnyqGXPKiI/AAAAAAAABls/P6qewKjr3zgo5QaRZ6OjzsyZM6qGN1iYwCLcBGAsYHQ/w402-h402/827459.jpg" width="402" /></a></div><br /> </div><br /><p></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-30732095701212434192021-05-05T16:07:00.006+02:002021-05-05T18:05:10.437+02:00From Lithuania: Ojibo Afrobeat<p> <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0vDg7RS1Pq0/YJKkmvAOkuI/AAAAAAAABlI/-ySorhBcbGg7MRWddrE-eIrLougpIWrjgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1363/band.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="1363" height="318" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0vDg7RS1Pq0/YJKkmvAOkuI/AAAAAAAABlI/-ySorhBcbGg7MRWddrE-eIrLougpIWrjgCLcBGAsYHQ/w318-h318/band.jpg" width="318" /></a></p><p>Unfortunately cannot find any information ...</p><p><b>Ojibo Afrobeat </b><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.facebook.com/ojiboafrobeat/">@facebook.com</a></p><p><a href="https://soundcloud.com/user-347772762-108291860">@soundcloud.com</a> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O2siIh1T4t0/YJKksB6ksSI/AAAAAAAABlM/hpUaOHZoxIsUcKHDS3LsfxdQmolW_1nXwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/cover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1078" data-original-width="1200" height="284" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O2siIh1T4t0/YJKksB6ksSI/AAAAAAAABlM/hpUaOHZoxIsUcKHDS3LsfxdQmolW_1nXwCLcBGAsYHQ/w317-h284/cover.jpg" width="317" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-87907843262955185312021-04-26T09:54:00.002+02:002021-04-26T09:54:58.256+02:00Pierre Sandwidi – Le Troubadour De La Savane <p> <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rBeA95BWF8Y/YIZwv6FfwAI/AAAAAAAABko/ID9SNq2KR5IF4y3-nGOWa4an7YxEmBpSQCLcBGAsYHQ/s600/artist.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="377" height="612" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rBeA95BWF8Y/YIZwv6FfwAI/AAAAAAAABko/ID9SNq2KR5IF4y3-nGOWa4an7YxEmBpSQCLcBGAsYHQ/w384-h612/artist.jpg" width="384" /> </a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Twenty years after he died, french label Born Bad Records pays tribute to Pierre Sandwidi, one of West Africa’s most outstanding and adamant artist. </b><br /><br />Born in 1947 in Boulsa, a small village in central Upper Volta, Pierre Sandwidi studied at the Zinda Kaboré high school in Ouaga in the early 60s. <br /><br />Popular music that sprung up from Burkina Faso owed much to the music from neighboring countries like Mali, Ghana, Ivory Coast or Benin, and to the longing for “cultural authenticity” conveyed through Guinean music. In capital city Ouagadougou, as well as in Bobo-Dioulasso (Burkina’s cultural capital until the 1980s), the first two decades of independence saw the upcoming of such orchestras and artists as Amadou Balaké, Georges Ouedraogo, Volta Jazz, l’Harmonie Voltaïque, Les Imbattables Léopards, Abdoulaye Cissé, Tidiane Coulibaly or Pierre Sandwidi. <br /><br />Nicknamed “the troubadour from the bush”, Pierre Sandwidi stands as one of the finest Voltaic artists from the 1970s. He belonged to an unsung elite of Francophone artists such as Francis Bebey, G.G. Vickey, Amédée Pierre, André-Marie Tala, Pierre Tchana or Mamo Lagbema. His entire released output consists of less than ten 7 inches, two LPs and a bunch of cassettes. A man from the provinces, he always favored social engagement and carefully crafted lyrics over instant fame. His words and music challenged General Lamizana’s dreary presidency, which ruled the country from 1966 to 1980. <br /><br />Along with his friends Jean-Bernard Samboué, Abdoulaye Cissé, Oger Kaboré, Joseph Salambéré or Richard Seydou Traoré, he was part of the “vedettes en herbe” movement. Their songs were played on the national radio before even getting the chance to be released on a single, recorded live in the studio – a straightforward technique favored by most Voltaic musicians over the decade. <br /><br />In 1970, Pierre Sandwidi traveled across the country, working for the state and learning much from the Upper Volta’s many cultures and history. Involved in trade unions, he followed his own musical path. He observed changes at stake in his native country. In 1971, he won the first prize in the ‘modern singers’ category of a national competition. He also joined as a guitar player the National Ballet of Upper Volta, modeled after Guinea’s “African Ballets”. With them, he traveled to Niger, Ivory Coast and Benin, before visiting Canada in 1973. <br /><br />Back home, he met Bobo-Dioulasso cultural entrepreneur and Volta Jazz boss Idrissa Koné, who offered him to record a few songs for his own imprint, Disques Paysans Noirs. Sandwidi then delivered Lucie, a romantic song in the classic mandingo vein (‘diarabi’ or ‘love song’), while combining Afro-Cuban influences (by way of Congo) with French songs. He only had his bicycle and a guitar to conquer his young love, while others drove cars or rode motorbikes. Penniless but full of love, he walked in the steps of both Abdoulaye Cissé’s L’homme à la guitare and Amadou Balaké’s Bar Konon Mousso. <br /><br />As a trade unionist and a member of the African Independence Party, he opposed General Lamizana’s politics, denouncing the lack of morality and the corrupted new administration in Ouagadougou, while praising the virtues of the working class and the wisdom of farmers. In 1975, Pierre Sandwidi recorded two more singles at the Maison du Peuple for CVD (Compagnie Voltaïque du Disque). Using an Akai recorder as a soundboard, he was backed by Super Volta’s mighty guitar player Désiré Traoré. In spite of such a raw recording environment, his mature voice revealed new harmonic possibilities. <br /><br />In 1976, he recorded 3 more 45s with L’Harmonie Voltaïque as a backing band. Tond yabramba (“Our ancestors”) was the peak of this fruitful collaboration. A sinuous organ allowed Sandwidi to reach new heights, with a stunning melody that became instantly familiar. Recounting his country’s chaotic history, it stood as one of the continent’s best political songs. A true lesson of history, this song has been played enough on the radio to gain cult status. <br /><br />In 1977, he delivered the amazing Yamb ney capitale (“You and your capital”), one of his best songs, with masterful guitar by Super Volta’s Désiré Traoré. Once again, he fought against ailing morality and rising individualism in the country’s capital. Sandwidi praised the virtues of country dwellers, enhanced by Ghanaian lo-fi keyboards wiz Father Ben. The b-side Mam ti fou is another instant classic, dealing with the loss of identity and an ever-increasing race for profit. This single sold over 3,000 copies, a true achievement in one of the world’s most destitute countries. <br /><br />In 1979, while in Abidjan, Pierre Sandwidi recorded his first full length LP with the help of Voltaic Prince Edouard Ouedraogo. It confronted once again his country’s true state of affairs. He launched his own ‘callao’ dance, as a homage to this Sahelian bird that bounces instead of walking. <br /><br />During the Sankara years (1983-1987), Sandwidi took part in the cultural animation of his neighborhood as a militant of the mighty CDR (Comité de Défense de la Révolution). After Sankara’s fall in 1987, Sandwidi distanced himself from politics, focusing on writing new songs and plays. In 1995, he delivered his last piece of music: Cousin Halidou, released through Moussa Kaboré’s Bazaar Music. Being of fragile health, Pierre Sandwidi passed away in 1998, leaving a beloved and dedicated family behind. <br /><br />His funeral had a national echo, while new generations are slowly rediscovering a great body of work. Sandwidi used to tell his family that one day, some interest would come from abroad regarding his artistic legacy. Twenty years after he died, this compilation stands as a vibrant tribute to one of West Africa’s most outstanding and adamant artist. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://pan-african-music.com/en/pierre-sandwidi-the-troubadour-from-the-bush/">pan-african-music.com</a></b></span> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3JhYcnG6RJ8/YIZw4tqcABI/AAAAAAAABks/5d_WizS7ENIF-RYCtZC7SeAq9s6W4DoOwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1140/pierre-sandwidi-comp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1140" data-original-width="1140" height="382" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3JhYcnG6RJ8/YIZw4tqcABI/AAAAAAAABks/5d_WizS7ENIF-RYCtZC7SeAq9s6W4DoOwCLcBGAsYHQ/w382-h382/pierre-sandwidi-comp.jpg" width="382" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-91171328068565824152021-03-26T08:33:00.005+01:002021-03-26T08:33:46.048+01:00From Portugal/ Brazil: Carapaus Afrobeat - Dois<p> <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-snce3gPtT4Y/YF2NmGOmV9I/AAAAAAAABj8/AJpSbl2A4cUkqyK3P36PtHBaM7QYeN65wCLcBGAsYHQ/s630/band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="417" data-original-width="630" height="261" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-snce3gPtT4Y/YF2NmGOmV9I/AAAAAAAABj8/AJpSbl2A4cUkqyK3P36PtHBaM7QYeN65wCLcBGAsYHQ/w395-h261/band.jpg" width="395" /> </a></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Shortly after arriving in Lisbon, Portugal, in 2017, guitarist Zé
Victor Gottardi joined eight more Brazilian and Portuguese musicians to
form <strong>Carapaus Afrobeat</strong>. Before landing on the old
continent, Zé had already played in the Abayomy Afrobeat Orchestra, of
which he was one of the founders, and had also played with Jards Macalé
and Céu. His goal with Carapaus is to revere African music, faithfully
following the concept of the word afrobeat: “beat of afro origin”.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">“I realized that the afrobeat scene was very vague [in Lisbon], there was only one band, They Must Be Crazy,
[who are] very good by the way. I booked a Fela Day, which is an event
to celebrate Fela Kuti’s birthday, and I set up Carapaus for the
occasion. The members were very well chosen, they’re all monsters”, says
Zé.”On the guitar with me there is Gabriel Muzak, who played with
Frequency Selectors and Funk Fuckers, as well as Adriana Calcanhotto.
On the drums there’s Del, who has played with Roberta Miranda. On
keyboard there’s Cláudio Andrade who has accompanied Gilberto Gil, Jorge
Ben Jor and Seu Jorge for 10 years. On the bass Ricardo Dias Gomes, who
played with Caetano for 10 years. On the trumpet, Cláudio Gomes, one of
the band’s two Portuguese [members]. He’s very active in the Lisbon
music scene. On the trombone André Pimenta, also Portuguese, on the sax
Alexandre Pinheiro, a saxophonist from Belém do Pará, who is fundamental
to give a more Amazonian smell to the band. In percussion we have
Duvale, a master who has ruled the timbal wing at the samba school of
Mangueira (Rio de Janeiro), in addition to playing with Gabriel o
Pensador and Sandra de Sá”.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">This musical quality, added to the lack of afrobeat bands in Portugal,
helped Carapaus quickly gain prominence. His commitment to maintaining
all the original cadence of the African rhythm is clear on all eight
tracks of the group’s second album, <strong><em>Dois</em></strong>. The
influences of Fela Kuti and Tony Allen (who played on the single “Do
Allen / Diabo na Terra”, along with with Boss AC and Oghene Kologbo,
which preceded the album’s release) are evident. But it is not only the
Nigerian source of afrobeat that supplies components. The bases also
have funk, jazz, ska, elements of Portuguese musicality and spicy
Afro-Brazilian seasoning, taking references from Naná Vasconcelos, Tim
Maia, Elza Soares and from the <em>batuques </em>of African religions.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">“We like to be broader with the issue of influences. We have Afrobeat
in the name, but we take it more literally. Everything we like came
from Africa: jazz, blues, funk, hip hop… everything had a direct
influence from the African continent or its immigrants, so we think it
makes more sense for us not to just be stuck with the Nigerian style of
playing”.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">This whole merger generates good results. The texture
created also reveals the Latin DNA that Carapaus music has in its
genetics. The different experiences used lead to a groove with Latin
American rhythmic patterns, despite being recorded in Europe across two
sessions. It has a swing. Some videos of live performances show the
energy that the group led by Zé transmits. However, their upcoming
performances had to be cancelled, as with everyone else, due to the
Coronavirus pandemic, just at the moment when they had found their
space, ascending in the Portuguese music scene with their new album
freshly released.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">“There was no time to do practically anything.
At first we were very weak, and little by little we resumed our
activities the way we did. We recorded a series of songs at home,
literally each one at home, and it was super cool. [The videos are on <a aria-label="YouTube (opens in a new tab)" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmOhILE8ajA" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">YouTube</a>.]
But we are resuming contacts with festivals, sending material and doing
what we can”, says Zé with optimism. “We have content already recorded
for about 2 more records, but we still have to relaunch <em>Dois</em>,
since we were unable to play as we had planned. We hope that in 2021 we
will be able to circulate in Europe, because the band has extreme
potential”.<br /></p><p> <b><a href="https://soundsandcolours.com/articles/brazil/carapaus-afrobeat-dois-52860/">soundsandcolours.com</a></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JWWKMDfxXs8/YF2Nt7T6CmI/AAAAAAAABkA/OOQWth-ucw8C8EabpelNIhMubWcqNeEFgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="396" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JWWKMDfxXs8/YF2Nt7T6CmI/AAAAAAAABkA/OOQWth-ucw8C8EabpelNIhMubWcqNeEFgCLcBGAsYHQ/w396-h396/cover.jpg" width="396" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/carapausafrobeat/">carapausafrobeat</a></b></span> </div><p></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-73736110732620567262021-03-23T08:35:00.001+01:002021-03-23T08:35:13.214+01:00BCUC - Emakhosini<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ccKbQ-FoY6Y/YFmY7UQkktI/AAAAAAAABjk/2wrJfQ3lWJUXL_q9zFDIhu9xyQYoa21lwCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="238" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ccKbQ-FoY6Y/YFmY7UQkktI/AAAAAAAABjk/2wrJfQ3lWJUXL_q9zFDIhu9xyQYoa21lwCLcBGAsYHQ/w357-h238/band.jpg" width="357" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Hailing from South Africa, the seven-piece band BCUC (Bantu Continua Uhuru Consciousness) has released their newest album <em>Emakhosini, </em>an
EP featuring three tracks that capture the sound of ancestral,
indigenous musical traditions while also including contemporary and
controversial commentary on modern Africa.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Each of the three songs, though all very different, contain the
essence of ‘Africangungungu,’ the name BCUC has given to their
‘afropsychedelic’ music. The tracks are best described as vibrant—each
is buzzing with the distinct energy that BCUC brings to all of their
music and performances. A mix of traditional indigenous South African
music with funk, hip-hop, and punk-rock influences, BCUC’s music is
nothing short of unique. As vocalist Kgomotso Mokone declared, “We bring
fun and emo-indigenous Afro psychedelic fire from the hood.”</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The album also tackles the issues of modern Africa head-on, including
commentary on the harsh realities of uneducated workers. One song from a
previous self-produced EP expressed views about a national idol and was
so controversial that it was ultimately removed from the album. Despite
this and other criticism regarding the group’s refusal to identify with
a single social or political movement, BCUC sticks to their philosophy
of creating “music for the people by the people with the people.” This
philosophy is expressed in the video for the final track, “Nobody Knows
(the Trouble I’ve Seen), filmed in Soweto.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Although Bantu Continua Uhuru Consciousness faces criticism for their
stances, their commitment to representing the voiceless, speaking on
important social and political issues, and exposing audiences to
indigenous music is admirable. <em>Emakhosini </em>perfectly represents and lives up to the rebellious, lively spirit of the group.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><a href="https://blackgrooves.org/bcuc-emakhosini/">blackgrooves.org</a> </b><br /></p><p> - - - - - - <br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">There may be stirring harmony vocals, but these dynamic, ‘afropsychedelic’ artists are anything but bland.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">B<span class="css-s1bg3t">CUC, AKA Bantu Continua
Uhuru Consciousness, are a young seven-piece band from Soweto who are
shaking up South African music. Vocals and sturdy harmony work have
always played a dominant role in township styles, but here the tradition
is updated and reworked with the powerful but subtle use of drums and
bass.<br /></span></p><p class="css-s1bg3t" style="text-align: justify;">They play lengthy songs (the
opener lasts nearly 20 minutes) that mix ancient and modern influences
in a style that is distinctively South African, and includes soulful,
elegant playing with passages that are as dramatic and frantically
menacing as the best Congotronics bands in Kinshasa. BCUC have an
impressive sense of dynamics, allowing songs to develop, fade away,
change direction and then build to an often furious climax. Insistent,
inventive bass guitar work holds it all together, as in Moya, which
begins with a brooding riff and distant chanting, before the voices and
percussion take over. Then there’s another switch, as echoes of what
sound like ancient African war chants give way to cool, soulful vocals
from Kgomotso Mokone, the one female member of the band, before the
drums and chanting vocals return. </p><p class="css-s1bg3t" style="text-align: justify;">Elsewhere, what they call their “africangungungu” and “afropsychedelic”
music includes passages of sturdy township styles. There are stirring
harmony vocals on Insimbi that would provide a reminder of Ladysmith
Black Mambazo if it weren’t for the drums and bass riff. The final
track, Nobody Knows, brings further surprises. It starts off with a
reworking of Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen, the gospel classic that
has been recorded by everyone from Louis Armstrong to Sam Cooke, but is
then transformed as chanting, rap and percussion take over. Those who
fear that South African music is becoming too bland, or dominated by US
influences, should take heart. <br /></p><p><b><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2018/mar/22/bcuc-emakhosini-review-south-africa-soweto-melissa-laveaux-turbans">theguardian.com</a></b></p><p> - - - - - - </p><p style="text-align: justify;">After a year of intensive touring in Europe in 2017, the group from Soweto is back with a second album. <i>Emakhosini</i> is as stunning as their first album, <i>Our Truth</i>,
released in 2016 to accolades in the French media. As on their first
disc, the band offers two long pieces of funky tribal trance, <i>Moya</i> and <i>Insimbi,</i>
that by their intensity evoke the Afro-beat of Fela even though they
were not inspired by it. Because the music of Bantu Continua Uhuru
Consciousness (which can be translated as “Man on the move towards his
freedom of conscience”) draws on the South African cultural roots of the
group’s members — Zulu, Sotho, Shangaan — to invent a contemporary
electric version of their musical traditions. On these ancestral rhythms
and spiritual songs, BCUC builds a music tinged with soul, rap, and a
driving by a punk energy. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><a href="https://www.roughtrade.com/gb/bcuc-bantu-continua-uhuru-consciousness/emakhosini">roughtrade.com</a></b> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UeNerUPpZSk/YFmZBwsjGpI/AAAAAAAABjo/IlyZmb4FkqAeiQgnbgN-BWaESZPDtTPsgCLcBGAsYHQ/s600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="357" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UeNerUPpZSk/YFmZBwsjGpI/AAAAAAAABjo/IlyZmb4FkqAeiQgnbgN-BWaESZPDtTPsgCLcBGAsYHQ/w357-h357/cover.jpg" width="357" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rtO6OHITb-s/YFmZIqB0vcI/AAAAAAAABjs/XuzwMTWYH7I93NcqI1CA0mmbSQU5gtUygCLcBGAsYHQ/s600/back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="600" height="353" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rtO6OHITb-s/YFmZIqB0vcI/AAAAAAAABjs/XuzwMTWYH7I93NcqI1CA0mmbSQU5gtUygCLcBGAsYHQ/w354-h353/back.jpg" width="354" /></a><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-67090262425325529772021-03-02T11:00:00.002+01:002021-03-02T11:01:29.090+01:00Recently discovered ... positively surprised: BCUC - Our Truth<div><p> <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XRsvdOwSQ0E/YD4Lgwh4d5I/AAAAAAAABjA/PlJrWbN304so8eHSqlpKOUrBCoUddVrdwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1780/bcuc.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1241" data-original-width="1780" height="280" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XRsvdOwSQ0E/YD4Lgwh4d5I/AAAAAAAABjA/PlJrWbN304so8eHSqlpKOUrBCoUddVrdwCLcBGAsYHQ/w402-h280/bcuc.jpg" width="402" /></a></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">A stone’s throw from the church where Desmond Tutu organised the escape
of the most wanted anti-Apartheid activists of Soweto, the BCUC band
rehearses in a shipping container-turned-community restaurant, where
their indomitable outspokenness echoes in a whole new way.
<br />
<br />
Make no mistake, this buzzing township has lost none of the creative,
rebellious energy it had when the “Rainbow Nation”, with its now
less-than-vibrant colours, emerged twenty years ago.
<br />
<br />
Like its elders, Bantu Continua Uhuru Consciousness sees its music as a hedonistic trance, but also as a weapon of<span class="bcTruncateMore"> political and spiritual liberation.
<br />
<br />
Artistic heirs to Philip “Malombo” Tabane and Batsumi, they seek to give
a contemporary voice to the ancestral traditions of indigenous peoples.
Jazz sounds of 1970s and ‘80s productions have been replaced by hip-hop
influences and a punk-rock energy.
<br />
<br />
It all started about twelve years ago in a community centre workshop.
The format of the band hasn’t changed much since that time, but its
musical language has been greatly refined. While vocals and percussion
have always driven their music, in the past they’ve explored
“electronic”
avenues and for many years even included a rock guitar that swung between folk and free jazz.
<br />
<br />
BCUC found its magic formula in 2013, however, when they folded a frenzied electric bass into the simple drum-and-vocals mix.
<br />
<br />
And that’s the alchemy of “Africangungungu”, the name they’ve given to
their “afropsychedelic” music. Both on stage and on this album (their
first commercial production), their songs refuse to be formatted. Their
“incantations” in Zulu, Sotho and English and their funky modulations
extend over twenty minutes in a whirlwind of sound reminiscent of Fela’s Afrobeat.
<br />
<br />
Nguni rhythms mix with Tsonga rhythms, the whistles of Bhaca and Shona
miners meet the traditional Imbomu horn, while ancestral war songs and
Ngoma busuku (night song) choruses mingle with the soul music of singer
Kgomotso and the raging rap of Jovi and Luja.
<br />
<br />
“Yinde”, which opens “Our Truth”, means “the road”: a symbol of the
distance left to cover towards a fairer South African society.
Similarly, “Asazani” (“we don’t know one other”) pleads for a
reconciling of all the components of the “Rainbow Nation”.
<br />
<br />
BCUC’s willingness to look these social and identity questions in the
face has already led to the banning of one song from their only
self-produced EP, which points the finger at a national idol. But
neither this event, nor the criticism to which they are exposed by their
refusal to belong to a specific movement, can change their minds.
“Music for the people by the people with the people” – a people they
refuse to box into one community, to circumscribe to one skin colour.</span><span> </span></p><p><span><b><a href="https://bcuc.bandcamp.com/album/our-truth">bcuc.bandcamp.com</a></b> </span></p><p>- - - - - - </p><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">IN A NUTSHELL</div><p style="text-align: justify;">Bantu Continua Uhuru Consciousness (BCUC) present their first
commercial production 'Our Truth', featuring their very own genre
of afropsychedelic music - 'Africangungungu'.</p><div style="text-align: justify;">GO ON...</div><p style="text-align: justify;">Bantu Continua Uhuru Consciousness sees its music as a hedonistic
trance, but also as a weapon of political and spiritual liberation.
Artistic heirs to Philip “Malombo” Tabane and Batsumi, they seek to give
a contemporary voice to the ancestral traditions of indigenous peoples.
Jazz sounds of 1970s and ‘80s productions have been replaced by hip-hop
influences and a punk-rock energy. While vocals and percussion have
always driven their music, in the past they’ve explored “electronic”
avenues and for many years even included a rock guitar that swung
between folk and free jazz. BCUC found its magic formula in 2013,
however, when they folded a frenzied electric bass into the simple
drum-and-vocals mix.BCUC’s willingness to look social and identity
questions in the face has already led to the banning of one song from
their only self-produced EP, which points the finger at a national idol.
But neither this event, nor the criticism to which they are exposed by
their refusal to belong to a specific movement, can change their minds.
'Music for the people by the people with the people' – a people they
refuse to box into one community, to circumscribe to one skin colour.</p><p><b><a href="http://www.rhythmpassport.com/events/bcuc-our-truth-album-presentation/">rhythmpassport.com</a></b><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-keYizK8h9x0/YD4LnJ4Fq1I/AAAAAAAABjE/ElU8xDTs0VEy7pY9JckI4vPzjgfMg6ENQCLcBGAsYHQ/s599/cover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="599" height="399" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-keYizK8h9x0/YD4LnJ4Fq1I/AAAAAAAABjE/ElU8xDTs0VEy7pY9JckI4vPzjgfMg6ENQCLcBGAsYHQ/w399-h399/cover.jpg" width="399" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iAelmM7pZQo/YD4LtiJTFnI/AAAAAAAABjI/bW66wGYpKrAsAlQetu_isLW_irhafpJ0wCLcBGAsYHQ/s600/back.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="600" height="394" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iAelmM7pZQo/YD4LtiJTFnI/AAAAAAAABjI/bW66wGYpKrAsAlQetu_isLW_irhafpJ0wCLcBGAsYHQ/w395-h394/back.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><br />mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-38124036418544399172021-02-28T13:52:00.021+01:002021-02-28T13:59:44.963+01:00Reissue of "Orchestre Poly-Rythmo De Cotonou Dahomey" (Superlfly Records)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HWvBzrDny5U/YDuRBQValAI/AAAAAAAABiw/fTesOLPsS9cIRBsiy_Yh_PqWazDbA7slwCLcBGAsYHQ/s600/band.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="600" height="232" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HWvBzrDny5U/YDuRBQValAI/AAAAAAAABiw/fTesOLPsS9cIRBsiy_Yh_PqWazDbA7slwCLcBGAsYHQ/w357-h232/band.jpg" width="357" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I finally received my vinyl of "Orchestre Poly-Rythmo De Cotonou Dahomey" re-issue from Superfly Records ... and it's amazing as always with Orchestre Poly-Rythmo...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">- - - - - - - <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="product-page__description" style="text-align: justify;"><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">**1000 copies** We’re proud to
introduce the new Superfly reissue of ultra rare 70’s Nigerian
collection of some of their best 45’s, full of funky psych killers,
check ‘Wodeka Roe’ or the hit ‘Gbeti Madjro’ (though every single track
is dynamite!). As usual, beautiful quality repress with paste on covers
made in Japan, Obi and 180grs vinyl, limited to 1000 copies only!</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Orchestre Poly-Rythmo</b> are much more than a band.
They’re a window into the culture of Benin and the music associated with
the Vodoun traditions of West Africa. They’re also a reflection of the
impact funk music made throughout the region, not to mention an enduring
symbol of creative drive – having produced their early work during
times of political and economic instability, managing to access the
better-equipped EMI studio in Lagos to achieve the best sounding
recordings possible.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span><b><a href="https://www.soundohm.com/product/orchestre-poly-rythmo-de">soundohm.com</a></b></span> <br /></span></span></p></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">- - - - - - - </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Benin is not exactly one of those countries from which new music is constantly being reported. One name - although the one name is such a thing - that regularly draws attention, even through reissues, is the Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou Dahomey. Also known as Orchestre Poly Rythmo de Cotonou, Le Tout Puissant Poly Rythmo or L’International Poly-Rythmo, the musicians from Cotonou, Benin's largest city, have identified themselves as a band in around nine variations of their name. Listed under these names from 1968 onwards, their greatest period was in the 1970s, from which the single titles collected here come from. Their music mixes traditional styles of the country with jerk, the local term for soul or funk. Although one could say that this sound, whose influences include Afrobeat and Highlife, also integrates a few portions of rock into its rhythms. In a good sense, because the polyrhythm clearly dominates the groove, but the drums thrash in every now and then. It sounds a bit different from what you're used to from a Tony Allen, for example. What does not harm the music at all, the energy simply transmits itself energetically in an even more direct sense. Tout puissant!</span></span></p>
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table.MsoNormalTable
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mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
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mso-para-margin-right:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:8.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0cm;
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<![endif]--></span></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://www.hhv-mag.com/de/review/11480/orchestre-poly-rythmo-de-cotonou-dahomey-orchestre-poly-rythmo-de-cotonou-dahomey">hhv-mag.com</a></b><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L8ajCEwtbUU/YDuRIpUyUtI/AAAAAAAABi0/k50npZPNJzAokbzNIvGdz_CZzAFvIhnVACLcBGAsYHQ/s700/cover.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="407" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L8ajCEwtbUU/YDuRIpUyUtI/AAAAAAAABi0/k50npZPNJzAokbzNIvGdz_CZzAFvIhnVACLcBGAsYHQ/w407-h407/cover.webp" width="407" /></a></div><br /> </div><br /><p></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-48195054656084845122021-02-05T08:38:00.003+01:002021-02-05T08:38:42.338+01:00 Femi Kuti & Made Kuti – Legacy <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dqddf_fo5To/YBz07BfUfCI/AAAAAAAABiQ/KQGW56ZAZeoGxSdCauHQpO32qFuvnAn8gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1500/femi-and-made-kuti.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dqddf_fo5To/YBz07BfUfCI/AAAAAAAABiQ/KQGW56ZAZeoGxSdCauHQpO32qFuvnAn8gCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h266/femi-and-made-kuti.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p><strong>The influence of the legendary Nigerian musician and activist
Fela Kuti is displayed gloriously with the next two Kuti generations
connecting on this joint release. Legacy + is in fact two albums, with
one each presented by father and son. Femi Kuti, Fela’s son and former
Egypt 80 band member, has been a driving force of Afrobeat and the power
of music to change the world for some years, but it’s Femi’s own son,
Made Kuti, that now steps up to present his own vision.</strong></p><p><strong> </strong><span style="font-weight: 400;">As Femi was preparing his album -
Stop The Hate - he invited Made, who plays bass, alto-saxophone and
percussion on his dad’s album, to release his own debut record
‘For(e)ward’ alongside his own in a joint package. It’s a smart yet
honestly touching move on his and the label’s part: and naturally pays
dividends to the listener. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Femi Kuti’s output on Stop The Hate
is relentlessly fierce and funky, and for his eleventh album there’s no
easing off the pedal. Kuti Senior delivers messages of freedom and
positivity that are as bold and defiant as they’ve ever been: central
themes of the album focus on corruption in Nigeria’s local government,
equal rights and the end of police brutality for Black people. Pure and
powerful and dispatched with experience and confidence, it’s Afrobeat+
direct from the source.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">On Made’s ‘For(e)ward’ album, we’re
presented with a wealth of influences added to the Kuti Afrobeat
formula, with the talented musician also performing everything on the
record. While the hypnotic basslines, rhythms and horns inherited from
previous generations are vital ingredients, Made takes more than enough
turns to make this record his own. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">He studied at the famed Trinity Laban
Conservatoire of Music and Dance (the same place his grandfather Fela
studied, back when it was known as Trinity College), while also soaking
up the riches in London’s underground scene, and the city's diverse
influences of club music, dub, hip hop, punk, jazz and other
improvisational disciplines are audible in his music. The song’s
powerful messages come from his own perspective, with the direct effects
of years of political negligence and corruption, alongside sexual
harassment of and inequality for women, brought to the fore. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">The (Positive) Force is strong in the
Kuti family. Fela would no doubt be proud of what the next generations
have delivered here - one continuing to play at the top of his game, the
other emerging with promise, both still fighting for the people.</span></p><p><strong><a href="https://www.gigwise.com/reviews/3395798/album-review-made-kuti-and-femi-kuti-legacy">www.gigwise.com</a></strong></p><p><strong>- - - - -</strong></p><div class="loudandquiet-block loudandquiet-article__body"><p><span style="font-weight: 400;">The contemporary End SARS protests across Lagos come more than four decades after Fela Kuti’s </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">Zombie </span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;">album
launched its musical uprising against the methods of the Nigerian
militia, who responded by raiding his Kalakuta compound, burning down
his studio and throwing his 77-year old mother out of a third-story
window. They come four decades after Fela married 27 women on the same
day, either for misogyny’s sake or to delegitimize the government’s
claims that he’d kidnapped his backing band and dancers, depending on
which sources you read. A life’s worth of rebellion assembles this kind
of political nuance to a man whose influence seeps through Afrobeat and
into the fabric of a country’s resistance.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Take the centrepiece of Tony Allen and Hugh Masekela’s </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">Rejoice</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> – a feverish, limbless hard-bop holding Fela’s legacy on the shoulders of a street parade: </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">“Lagos never gonna be the same, never, without Fela!”</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;">
He was Afrobeat’s originator, who mystified the concept of rebellion,
combined the greatest freedom-searchers in Blue Note jazz with the
euphoria of highlife and escapist groove of American funk, and peddled
joy as an act of opposition. In parallel to Northern Soul’s takeover of
postindustrial Britain, Fela’s rebellion mobilised a world whose
resistance hit under the dense fug of igbo smoke, with a shamanic trance
and an open invitation to dance away the hardship.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight: 400;">In
the years since his death, Fela’s legacy has been joyfully upheld: his
son Seun still fronts Egypt 80, Knitting Factory have meticulously
reissued his solo archives and the legendary communal moments at the New
Africa Shrine, while the likes of Ginger Baker, Questlove, <a href="https://www.loudandquiet.com/artist/brian-eno/">Brian Eno</a> and <a href="https://www.loudandquiet.com/artist/erykah-badu/">Erykah Badu</a>
have curated selections of his work alongside essays and political
commentaries. As the archeological dig of a lifetime’s work continues to
show the historical weight of Fela Kuti, </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">Legacy+</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> adds urgency to the tradition – a double release as one, comprising Fela’s son Femi Kuti’s new album </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">Stop The Hate </span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;">and Femi’s son Made Kuti’s new album </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">For(e)ward</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;">.
It’s an instant masterpiece in supplementing the heft of a surname. The
music isn’t Fela’s, but the feeling is the same, and the protest is
current. </span></p><p><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">Stop The Hate</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> is the literal father album of the collection. Lead single ‘Pà Pá Pà’ is a groove-filled checklist (</span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">“I want you to listen to me well”</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;">)
and its scope is extraordinary. Femi calls for structural and social
change in government; the need for clean water, safer roads and working
electricity is demanded in the same breath as gender equality and
continued resistance against corruption. Circular grooves lock on key
lyrics: </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">“Stop the hate”</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> and </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">“Stop the land grab”</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;">
sound the visceral frontlines of protest, while the organ-laden,
trumpet-heavy ‘Na Bigmanism Spoil Government’ stands with a vicious,
Fela-worthy critique of power. </span></p><p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Made’s contribution on </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">For(e)ward</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> swirls into the mental strains of resistance. The hypnotic locked groove – </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">“free your mind and set your soul free”</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> –
picks up from the closing track of his father’s album, but the message
after three minutes of mesmeric, sprawling future-Afrobeat holds a
demand for freedom that you won’t find on </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">Stop The Hate</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;">.
Made plays every instrument on the album; ‘Your Enemy’ and ‘Higher
You’ll Find’ become possessive with spiralling horns, instrumentals and
brass cacophonies that conjure an internal </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">Fantasia</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;">. As Tony Allen went on to reject lyrical content to find his loose-limbed percussive protest, </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">For(e)ward</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> conjures as much of a tempest with furious strums and astral horns as it does with words.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Subjects
cross between albums; Femi’s ‘Young Boy Young Girl’ is the utopia that
Made’s ‘Young Lady’ longs for, uncovering the sexual scandals at the
University of Lagos. The wide-eyed circle jams of Made’s ‘We Are Strong’
look to solve the same injustices lamented in Femi’s ‘You Can’t Fight
Corruption With Corruption’. The most striking moment in </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">Legacy+</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> is Made’s monologue in ‘Different Streets’ to the somber effect of ‘Sorrow Tears and Blood’, ruminating on Fela’s message: </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">“Grandpa
was not predicting the future… we must now understand just how scary it
is that we are facing the same problem from the ’70s, and think for
ourselves how hard we must work collectively to be free.”</span></i></p><p><span style="font-weight: 400;">On their own terms, neither body of work is starkly more enthralling than its contemporaries. Yet what makes </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">Legacy+</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;">
such a remarkable collection is how each album brings vibrance to the
other and revitalises Fela’s archived resistance. There’s something in
the family name that feels as vital now as it did forty years ago.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight: 400;"><b><a href="https://www.loudandquiet.com/reviews/femi-kuti-and-made-kuti-legacy/">www.loudandquiet.com</a></b></span><strong> </strong></p></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7BhhsbOolxs/YBz1Geg-rCI/AAAAAAAABiU/pRHxCi1D48UeMRgX45gHBJ2-KpdERuphwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1400/SharedImage-112967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="394" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7BhhsbOolxs/YBz1Geg-rCI/AAAAAAAABiU/pRHxCi1D48UeMRgX45gHBJ2-KpdERuphwCLcBGAsYHQ/w394-h394/SharedImage-112967.jpg" width="394" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-75590684956692778192020-03-25T22:38:00.002+01:002020-03-25T22:38:42.873+01:00It' so sad: RIP MANU DIBANGO!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iSdNggtx0ek/XnvORK08KRI/AAAAAAAABec/Mfa6VobRBoMeEQeGmLU2QFxoIpCzdUP-wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/manu-dibango.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iSdNggtx0ek/XnvORK08KRI/AAAAAAAABec/Mfa6VobRBoMeEQeGmLU2QFxoIpCzdUP-wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/manu-dibango.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
The musician Manu Dibango, who has died aged 86 after being treated
for Covid-19, covered a vast spectrum of styles, from traditional
African roots music to jazz, soul, Afrobeat, reggae, gospel, French
chanson, Congolese rumba, salsa and solo piano. Most importantly,
Dibango was a founding father of funk.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In 1972 he made his mark with the hit <a class="u-underline" data-link-name="in body link" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0CeFX6E2yI" title="">Soul Makossa</a>.
As soon as it was released, as the B-side of a tribute to the Cameroon
football team, there were at least five different cover versions in the
American charts. The use of the refrain “mama-say, mama-sa, ma-makossa”,
on Michael Jackson’s <a class="u-underline" data-link-name="in body link" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Uj3zitETs4" title="">Wanna Be Starting Something</a>, from his 1982 album Thriller, earned Dibango substantial compensation two decades later.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Dibango was an unmistakable figure, with shaved head, shades, a
benign grin and a deep, reverberating laugh. The instantly recognisable
tone of his music was always swinging, melodic and invigorating.
Although best known as a saxophonist, Dibango was also a consummate
keyboard and vibraphone player and a great arranger, who could get the
best from a quartet or a 28-piece orchestra.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As he once said: “What is special is that Africa
has a long historical relationship with sound, and a communion between
sound and the visual stronger than in any other culture. The sound
carries the rhythm and the movement creates the images. The way an
African moves compared with the environment is different from the
western conception.”</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Emmanuel Dibango was born in Douala, in French-administered Cameroon.
His father was a high-ranking civil servant, his mother a fashion designer,
and both parents were devout Protestants who disapproved of secular
music. Manu received encouragement from the musical director of his
church choir, and surreptitiously broadened his musical perspective with
a bamboo flute and a home-made guitar. In 1944, he was in the school
choir for the state visit of General Charles de Gaulle to Cameroon.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
During the second world war, West Africa provided many reluctant
recruits to the allied forces and Dibango would recall helping to cut
loose the ropes binding “volunteers” press-ganged into the French army.
One of them was an uncle of his.</div>
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<br /></div>
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In 1949 his parents sent him to France
to study and, as an incentive, promised to pay for music lessons. He
arrived on a steamer to take up his education at Saint-Calais in the
region of Sarthe. The only black child in this small country town, he
got on well with his schoolmates, who remembered him bringing the first
bananas they had ever seen. For his part, he found snow exotic and tried
to post some home in an envelope.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
He was adopted by the community and settled quickly into the French
way of life, but his individuality, his cultural roots and, possibly,
memories of the “volunteers”, prevented him from accepting the complete
national identity expected by his host country. Due to his parents
having different ethnic backgrounds, he was never satisfied with an
imposed identity. He was unhappy to be classified as an African
musician, preferring to be considered as an artist, and an African.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Considered too old to take up the violin, his preferred instrument,
he studied classical piano for four years. His fellow students included Francis Bebey,
who would become a novelist and musicologist, with whom Dibango played
classical and jazz pieces, although for student dances they became a
blues band.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
While he was on holiday in 1953, a friend lent him a saxophone and
Dibango took to the instrument, enrolling for two years of private
tuition. After doing the rounds of French jazz clubs, he moved to
Belgium, where his soulful style attracted the owner of the Bantou club.
Within months Dibango had been signed up by Joseph Kabasele, the
founding father of modern Congolese music, whose band, African Jazz,
spearheaded a musical revolution in Africa. In Brussels he also met his
future wife Marie-Josee (known as Coco), whom he married in 1957.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In 1959 Kabasele recorded the pan-African anthem Independence Cha Cha
Cha and invited Dibango to the Congolese capital, Léopoldville (now
Kinshasa), to work with him. They made many hit records for the Ngoma
label in the prevailing rumba style. Dibango also ran a recording band
called African Soul in which he played the organ on his own
interpretations of American music. He managed a nightclub, the Tam Tam,
but despite financial success, he and Coco experienced racism, so they
moved to Abidjan in Ivory Coast.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After a period as leader of the Ivoirian national broadcast
orchestra, Dibango realised that the creative “miracle” he thought he
was observing in Africa had turned into a mirage, and he returned to
France.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the late 1960s and early 70s he recorded film soundtracks - including that of Ousmane Sembène’s celebrated feature, Ceddo (1976) - incidental background music and commercials, and singles for the African market.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In 1972 he joined the Congo rumba combo Ry-Co Jazz
for a tour of Algeria, along with the guitarist Jerry Malekani, who
thereafter became his permanent accompanist. Following the death of the
US tenor sax supremo King Curtis in 1974, Dibango released a tribute
single which identified the American as a major influence on his
technique. He then recorded two albums for Chris Blackwell’s Island
label, including the instrumental Big Blow (1976).</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In 1982 Dibango worked on a masterful triple album, Fleurs Musicales
du Cameroun, which gathered contemporary and traditional musicians from
the various ethnic groups of Cameroon.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the same year he toured France with the American jazz trumpeter Don Cherry,
exploring everything from soul to Malian folk music and Thelonious
Monk. Soon after, he was blowing ice-cold funk on his album Electric
Africa (1985), which featured Herbie Hancock, and the hit single Abele Dance. He collaborated with a long list of top class performers: <a class="u-underline" data-link-name="in body link" href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2018/jan/23/hugh-masekela-obituary" title="">Hugh Masekela</a>, <a class="u-underline" data-link-name="in body link" href="https://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/obituary-fela-kuti-1243789.html" title="">Fela Kuti</a>,
Tony Allen, Fania All Stars, Ray Lema, Bill Laswell, Sly and Robbie,
Ladysmith Black Mambazo and many up and coming Cameroonians.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In 1984 he joined more than a dozen artistes on the fundraising
single Tam Tam Pour l’Ethiopie, released indignantly in response to Band
Aid, which many Africans considered condescending. Dibango’s 1994 album
Wakafrika featured King Sunny Adé, Peter Gabriel, Salif Keita, Papa Wemba and Youssou N’Dour.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In 1967 he was bandleader on Pulsations, the first black music
programme on French TV, and in the early 1990s he hosted his own
prime-time French TV show, Salut Manu. In 1998 his achievements were
celebrated by the rural community where he grew up, with the naming of a
cultural centre after him. He reciprocated by donating the saxophone he
had used on Soul Makossa.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In later years he was an ambassador for Unicef, received several
honours from African countries and in 2010 was made a Chevalier of the
Légion d’honneur. He was still working last year, on tour with Symphonic
Safari, blending jazz with classical music.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the UK his frequent concert appearances included a 2008 Africa Day
show in Trafalgar Square, but the most satisfying for him were the
regular bookings at Ronnie Scott’s club, where he enjoyed being
recognised as a “jazz man”.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Coco died in 1995. He is survived by his daughters, Georgia and Anya and son, Michel.</div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Originally published at <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2020/mar/24/manu-dibango-obituary">theguardian.com</a></b></span> <br />
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</svg></span><br />mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-49475484575658110712020-03-23T15:14:00.004+01:002020-03-23T15:14:50.059+01:00London Afrobeat Collective – Humans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hard-driving, politically-charged, rhythmic, irresistibly-danceable
music; what else could be expected from a band that mixes influences
from <span class="span-20999"><a data-container=".span-20999" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/felakuti'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/felakuti_20999_60x60.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='Fela Kuti' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/felakuti"><strong>Fela Kuti</strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Fela Kuti</span></a></span>, Parliament/Funkadelic, <span class="span-11600"><a data-container=".span-11600" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/frankzappa'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/eaedb6396412e2a4711b8297ec2bcd3c.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='Frank Zappa' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/frankzappa"><strong>Frank Zappa</strong></a><br />1940 - 1993<br />guitar, electric</div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Frank Zappa</span></a></span>,
and Nile Rogers and Bernard Edwards into one exciting and uplifting
musical pot? Such expectations are high, but the London Afrobeat
Collective meets them with ease. <br /><br />There have been a few personnel changes since <a href="https://www.allaboutjazz.com/food-chain-london-afrobeat-collective-self-produced-review-by-bruce-lindsay.php" target="_blank"><em>Food Chain</em></a>
(Self Produced, 2015). Percussionist Zak Cohen has left without being
replaced, Giuliano Osella is now on drums and, most noticeably, Juanita
Euka has replaced Funke Adeleke on vocals, so the band has pared down
slightly to a nine-piece line-up. Euka's voice has a lower range than
Adekele's, but it's just as powerful, with a rough edge that gives added
force to the anger to be found in many of the lyrics. Euka's vocal
power is matched by that of the instrumentalists; this is a mighty band
of musicians (and video evidence—see YouTube, below— suggests that the
band is a superb live act as well). <br /><br />The London Afrobeat Collective formed in 2009, so this release celebrates its tenth anniversary. Following the pattern of <em>Food Chain</em>, <em>Humans</em>
combines politically forthright, socially aware, lyrics with powerful
wall-of-sound music. All of the songs are credited as whole-band
compositions and, for the most part, focus on ensemble
performances—highlighted particularly on "Prime Resources," "Stop
Talking" and "Tolembi" where the horns fly in unison above the punchy
rhythm section. There are some strong solos, too. Taken together, this
three-pronged attack of voice, ensemble and solos makes <em>Humans</em> one of the best of 2019's releases. </div>
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<b><a href="https://www.allaboutjazz.com/humans-london-afrobeat-collective-self-produced">allaboutjazz.com</a></b> </div>
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This album goes to show the importance of context when listening to music. <strong>London Afrobeat Collective</strong>’s
self-released third album ‘Humans’, embodies their live performances.
The project is treated as a set list rather than an album, and that’s
worth bearing in mind when listening to it.</div>
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Having been lucky enough to see them support <strong>Femi Kuti l</strong>ast
year, the positives and negatives here are also the same as they were
that night too: a tremendously upbeat album that will get you moving,
but at the same time can be difficult to listen in one go, with little
variety from song to song (save for Tokomona).</div>
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As a general rule, Afrobeat - a genre made famous by the legendary<strong> Fela Kuti</strong> -
is a mix of jazz, funk and rock, with simple, repeatable lyrics and
platitudes punctuating the instrumentation. This is a genre with a
strong identity, often relying on powerful an almost God-like figure at
the centre, controlling the band and audience through their lyricism and
presence. Fela was well-known for this and even founded his own small
pseudo-state through his charisma and sheer force of will.</div>
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London Afrobeat Collective have taken this identity, and rather than
trying to change it too much have simply added to it embodying the
strength of their own singer: Juanita Euka, putting female empowerment
front and centre in the album (something that arguably was not Fela
Kuti’s primary concern).</div>
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From the very first note of the album it’s clear what it’s geared
towards: dancing and chanting back and forth with Juanita Euka more than
ably assisted by the tremendous band. However, to really hear and
appreciate the nuance of its parts, the project needs to be heard
through a decent sound system – there is so much in the production that
through small speakers, or even through decent headphones, too much of
the magic will be missed.</div>
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There are some stand out songs: ‘Tolembi [We Speak]’, ‘Tokomona’,
‘Stop Talking’ and especially ‘Walk Alone’ make the album. However -
much like their live set - each song melds into the other so much so
tthat it’s possible to dip in and out of the project at any point and
not quite know which track is playing.</div>
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In places the pieces can be slightly laboured too, with rambling
sections that could easily be cut to bring song running times down.
Live, this works - giving time for people to dance and become a real
part of the music, building atmosphere in the room - but on an album it
can feel a little self-indulgent.</div>
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Overall, though, this is a positive project. Some great musicianship
with the horns particularly stand out from the mix. As the name of the
band hints, it’s a homage to Afrobeat rather than progressing the genre -
but this should never get in the way of having a good dance.</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.clashmusic.com/reviews/london-afrobeat-collective-humans">clashmusic.com</a></b></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TT-VAjU2_L0/XnjDt5g_3LI/AAAAAAAABeM/B7KuuH3eXy81DcQW-JnpohDETji51c93gCEwYBhgL/s1600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="970" data-original-width="970" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TT-VAjU2_L0/XnjDt5g_3LI/AAAAAAAABeM/B7KuuH3eXy81DcQW-JnpohDETji51c93gCEwYBhgL/s320/cover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-43223148536478987822020-03-19T11:15:00.003+01:002020-03-19T11:15:35.824+01:00The Brighton Beat - Live at the Clayton Opera House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qa7fTqSohwI/XnNF1feoa7I/AAAAAAAABds/tIsZJjPfxQk_T2xWnM2I9rMCEgtanZ_mQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qa7fTqSohwI/XnNF1feoa7I/AAAAAAAABds/tIsZJjPfxQk_T2xWnM2I9rMCEgtanZ_mQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/band.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div>
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Funky afro-beat big band <strong>The Brighton Beat</strong> added a vocalist to the mix in 2017. With <strong>Ryan Nava</strong>
holding the mike (and adding extra percussion too) the band has
broadened their sound even further. Case in point: the new album <em>Live at the Clayton Opera House</em>.
They have enjoyed a warm welcome over the years at that venue in
Clayton, NY and the show on October 20th, 2017 was no exception. Ever
thought that the fierce <em>Genghis Khan</em> could be subjected to a free-flowing sax solo? Or that a <em>Fortune Teller</em> could be divided into chopped guitar notes seasoned with trumpet blasts?<br />
<br />
The Brighton Beat is well-oiled live phenomenon and thankfully they
are in the habit of releasing in concert albums on a regular basis.
Their sense of rhythm comes to fore again in a spicy mix of jazz and
funk. A party band that can please music geeks and revellers is pretty
rare.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://werksman.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-brighton-beat-live-at-clayton-opera.html">werksman.blogspot.com</a></b><br />
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<br />mr. follow followhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222469124596010302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6952310160520126080.post-88433640134554785952020-03-03T15:14:00.001+01:002020-03-03T15:14:20.701+01:00Kokoroko - Kokoroko<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wdA6OQDKYHI/Xl5kvvJyZKI/AAAAAAAABdQ/QKJs47t1d9wBbcQNXl5p-MfBq22ZTrrIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/artist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="994" height="179" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wdA6OQDKYHI/Xl5kvvJyZKI/AAAAAAAABdQ/QKJs47t1d9wBbcQNXl5p-MfBq22ZTrrIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/artist.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div>
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This is not idle music!
<br />
<br />
London has long been a hotbed for experimentation for music from West
Africa, and it’s into this global-local story that we can situate
London’s newest afrobeat innovators: KOKOROKO. In the 40’s World War Two
veteran Ambrose Campbell and his West African Rhythm Brothers, were
enticing Soho music lovers with sweet palm wine sounds. The following
decade, a young Fela Kuti (and his Koola Lobitos outfit with drummer
Tony Allen), would jam with Campbell, and the seeds for his global
Afrobeat revolution were sown.
<br />
<br />
The band’s name is an Orobo – a Nigerian tribe and language – word
meaning ‘be strong’. Sonically living up to their name, KOKOROKO are an
all star band featuring leading lights from the London jazz community.
Powered by seismic horn section (Maurice Grey, saxophonist Cassie
Kinoshi, trombonist Richie Seivewright), guitar (Oscar Jerome), keys
(Yohan Kebede), drums (Ayo Salawu) and percussion (Onome Edgeworth);
Kokoroko are on a mission to fashion new languages using the medium of
afrobeat.
<br />
<br />
“This is not idle music!” says Sheila Maurice-Grey, reflecting on the
rich history of sounds that have inspired the band. Whether it's the
social commentary, the political stance of acts<span class="bcTruncateMore">
like the Black President, or the high power energy of afrobeat nights:
the music is teeming with a potent energy the band want to propel
forwards, London style. Make no mistake, this is not a band interested
in performative tributes or pastiche. For Maurice Grey, part of the
drive behind their creative impulse to is ask: “what does this music
sound like for my generation?”
<br />
<br />
“We love this music and want other people to love it the way we do”,
shared Edgeworth. Aside of the primacy of love for the music, a subtext
of the bands creation was a sense of alienation at London’s thinning
pool of afrobeat and highlife nights – particularly of black listeners
and players. “We don’t want this music to die”, he added.
<br />
<br />
Rather than launching straight into writing their own music, since the
band’s formation in 2014, they immersed themselves in the sounds of Pat
Thomas, Ebo Taylor and others by playing covers to sell out crowds. “I
remember speaking with Dele Sosimi about the structure of Fela’s songs –
every element plays a part. But, before melody or harmony, there’s
rhythm. The rhythmic aspect of the solos from that era is amazing. The
West African approach to jazz and improvisation is hip!”, offered
Maurice-Grey.
<br />
<br />
In writing their own music, Edgeworth emphasised how much the KOKOROKO
sound is shaped by the capital. “We didn’t want it to sound too clean –
that doesn’t really fit into the London sound”, he said. Instead, the
band opt for grooves with added grit: “we wanted it to sound rough, like
going out and hearing music pushed through speakers or the energy of
people dancing at afrobeat parties: its music we’ve seen work on
dancefloors”.
<br />
<br />
Drawing as much from nightlife, the musical influences of West African
Pentecostal churches, jazz and Western classical, its both in the middle
of and beyond this mix of influences that KOKOROKO’s self titled EP
takes shape.
<br />
<br />
Adwa opens deep-ridge grooves. Drawing from the syncopated funk of
Ethio-jazz, it takes its name from the Ethiopian city of the same name.
Composed by keyboardist Yohan Kebede, the victorious spirit of the track
is a meditation not only on the infamous Battle of Adwa, but of the way
societies evolve in the aftermath of conflict.
<br />
<br />
Ti-de is a soft lullaby taking its cue from a medley of old West African
folk melodies. A meditation on remaining present through change, the
track is laced with opiating guitar lines, soft percussion and languid
vocals that feel at times interchangeable with the grand sway of the
horn section.
<br />
<br />
The jubilant Uman arrives as a “celebration of women, black women in
particular,” shares Maurice Grey. “I wrote the tune with my mother in
mind”. The track tackles the cultural trope of the ‘black superwoman’
and – similarly to Maurice-Grey’s visual artwork – asks questions about
why misrepresentations about black women exist. Ultimately, it's a
redemptive track that makes space for both the unique struggles black
women face, and their vulnerability.
<br />
<br />
Like Ti-de, Absuey Junction takes its lead from Ebo Taylor’s horn led approach, and
<br />
showcases the band’s deft hand with palm wine infused ballads. The hit
single, first featured on the We Out Here compilation, reached 18
million + views on YouTube. Based on a composition by guitarist Oscar
Jerome, the track captures the sunset hum of Gambia’s nocturnal
soundscapes, winding horn solos and haunting vocals.
<br />
<br />
A precursor to their album, “it’s an honest capture” of the band’s progression and a stunning introduction to their sound.
<br />
<br />
Written by Teju Adeleye.</span></div>
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<span class="bcTruncateMore"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://kokoroko.bandcamp.com/album/kokoroko">kokoroko.bandcamp.com</a></b></span> </span></div>
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If you ask an Afrobeat fan to name their favourite bands—excluding lineups led by <span class="span-20999"><a data-container=".span-20999" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/felakuti'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/felakuti_20999_60x60.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='Fela Kuti' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/felakuti"><strong>Fela Kuti</strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Fela Kuti</span></a></span> during his lifetime—the probability is that their top five choices will include <span class="span-21421"><a data-container=".span-21421" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/seunkuti'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/6f3559c3919fca845de2dbbdfa34b9c3.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='Seun Kuti' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/seunkuti"><strong>Seun Kuti</strong></a><br />saxophone</div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Seun Kuti</span></a></span>'s Egypt 80 and <span class="span-55630"><a data-container=".span-55630" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/femikuti' class='pic-blank pic-float pic-60'><i class='fa fa-user'></i></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/femikuti"><strong>Femi Kuti</strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Femi Kuti</span></a></span>'s <span class="span-55631"><a data-container=".span-55631" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/positiveforce' class='pic-blank pic-float pic-60'><i class='fa fa-user'></i></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/positiveforce"><strong>Positive Force</strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Positive Force</span></a></span>, both based in Lagos, along with <span class="span-101759"><a data-container=".span-101759" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/delesosimi' class='pic-blank pic-float pic-60'><i class='fa fa-user'></i></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/delesosimi"><strong>Dele Sosimi </strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Dele Sosimi </span></a></span>'s
Afrobeat Orchestra, based in London. Other credible outfits have
emerged, but none which has so far seriously challenged that tripartite
ascendancy. London trumpeter <span class="span-54370"><a data-container=".span-54370" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/sheilamauricegrey' class='pic-blank pic-float pic-60'><i class='fa fa-user'></i></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/sheilamauricegrey"><strong>Sheila Maurice-Grey</strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Sheila Maurice-Grey</span></a></span>'s <span class="span-105926"><a data-container=".span-105926" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/kokoroko' class='pic-blank pic-float pic-60'><i class='fa fa-user'></i></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/kokoroko"><strong>Kokoroko</strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Kokoroko</span></a></span>
is an outfit to watch, however, combining, as it does, a firm grip on
the post-Afrika 70 tradition with some striking new directions. <br /><br /> Kokoroko debuted on record as part of the Brownswood label's 2018 compilation <em>We Out Here</em>, a showcase for emerging young London jazz artists which was recorded under the light-touch supervision of reed player <span class="span-18229"><a data-container=".span-18229" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/shabakahutchings'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/shabakahutchings_18229_60x60_701786862.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='Shabaka Hutchings' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/shabakahutchings"><strong>Shabaka Hutchings</strong></a><br />woodwind</div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Shabaka Hutchings</span></a></span>, feted for his own work with <span class="span-70793"><a data-container=".span-70793" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/sonsofkemet'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/dcb422e6c1276945962769f8ff0175b6.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='Sons of Kemet' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/sonsofkemet"><strong>Sons of Kemet</strong></a><br />band/orchestra</div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Sons of Kemet</span></a></span>, <span class="span-105025"><a data-container=".span-105025" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/shabakatheancestors' class='pic-blank pic-float pic-60'><i class='fa fa-user'></i></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/shabakatheancestors"><strong>Shabaka & the Ancestors </strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Shabaka & the Ancestors </span></a></span> and <span class="span-102604"><a data-container=".span-102604" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/thecometiscoming'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/_102604_60x60_466524590.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='The Comet Is Coming' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/thecometiscoming"><strong>The Comet Is Coming</strong></a><br />band/orchestra</div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">The Comet Is Coming</span></a></span>. Kokoroko has now released its first disc (and download), a 4-track EP which clocks in just shy of 25 minutes. </div>
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<em>Kokoroko</em> is a horn-led mainly-instrumental album. It is also an
ensemble work, but one which includes space for uniformly compelling
solos from Maurice-Grey, saxophonist <span class="span-54369"><a data-container=".span-54369" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/cassiekinoshi'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/a1471535f6822b1be18ae2b8c70bd11c.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='Cassie Kinoshi' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/cassiekinoshi"><strong>Cassie Kinoshi</strong></a><br />b.1993<br />saxophone</div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Cassie Kinoshi</span></a></span>, trombonist Richie Seivwright and guitarist <span class="span-112521"><a data-container=".span-112521" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/oscarjerome' class='pic-blank pic-float pic-60'><i class='fa fa-user'></i></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/oscarjerome"><strong>Oscar Jerome</strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Oscar Jerome</span></a></span>. A deep-strata rhythm section is anchored by bass guitarist <span class="span-110161"><a data-container=".span-110161" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/mutalechashi' class='pic-blank pic-float pic-60'><i class='fa fa-user'></i></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/mutalechashi"><strong>Mutale Chashi </strong></a></div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Mutale Chashi </span></a></span>. <br /><br />
Kokoroko turns out tough, classic Afrobeat grooves on the up-tempo
"Adwa" and "Uman" and also reveals a sensitive touch with ballads from
beyond the standard Afrobeat paradigm. Closing track "Abusey Junction"
is particularly lovely and at just over seven minutes it is the longest
track (it was also the closer on <em>We Out Here</em>). The tune was
written by Jerome, who confirms his position as an important voice on
the new London scene, as previously announced on his self-released EP <em>Where Are Your Branches?</em> in 2018. On "Adwa," Jerome turns in a gritty solo at times reminiscent of early period <span class="span-10967"><a data-container=".span-10967" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/jamesbloodulmer'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/jamesbloodulmer_10967_60x60.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='James Blood Ulmer' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/jamesbloodulmer"><strong>James Blood Ulmer</strong></a><br />b.1942<br />guitar</div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">James Blood Ulmer</span></a></span>,
while on the ballads he evokes a glistening melodicism in the same
league as that of two benchmark West African guitarists, Kante Manfila,
the Guinean electric guitarist who was <span class="span-8295"><a data-container=".span-8295" data-content="<div class="clearfix"><a href='//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/salifkeita'><img src='https://s3.amazonaws.com/allaboutjazz/photos/profile/thumb_img_app/salifkeita_8295_60x60.jpg' class='pic-float pic-60 rad-5' alt='Salif Keita' /></a><div class="tooltip-text">
<a href="//musicians.allaboutjazz.com/salifkeita"><strong>Salif Keita</strong></a><br />vocalist</div></div>" data-html="true" data-original-title="" data-placement="top" data-toggle="popover" data-trigger="focus" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" role="button" tabindex="0" title=""><span class="nowrap">Salif Keita</span></a></span>'s collaborator in Les Ambassadeurs, and Koo Nimo, the Ghanaian palm-wine master. <br /><br />Kinoshi, who recently released the luminous <em>Driftglass</em>
(Jazz re-freshed, 2019), the debut album by her SEED Ensemble, is
another top-rank young talent and she blows a coruscating solo on
"Adwa." Seivwright, who has played with Maurice-Grey and Kinoshi in the
Nérija collective, is less widely known but welcome both in her own
right and also for her instrument—the trombone is rarely heard in
Afrobeat, but it fits in snugly here, both as part of the horn section
and also as a solo instrument. As leader, Maurice-Grey modestly refrains
from hogging the solos, but she turns in blinders on "Uman" and "Abusey
Junction," the first full of fire, the second shimmeringly beautiful. <br /><br /> From every angle, <em>Kokoroko</em> is a hugely impressive debut. </div>
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When your band name translates as “Be Strong”, you’ve got no choice but to come out swinging, and that is exactly what <span class="main-artist" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/MusicGroup">KOKOROKO</span> have done with their debut self-titled EP.</div>
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<span class="main-artist" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/MusicGroup">KOKOROKO</span>’s name is taken from Orobo, a Nigerian tribe and language. With roots in Africa and London, <span class="secondary-artist" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/MusicGroup">KOKOROKO</span>’s
sound is a cosmic blend of tradition and inner-city sunlight. Drawing
inspiration from afrobeat, jazz, African folk and more, this band of
kindred spirits share their perspective on modern-day living, the only
way they know how – with infectious riffs and water-tight rhythms.</div>
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“Adwa”
explodes into action with warm organ notes, which could quite easily
build into a contemporary house banger; but that isn’t KOKOROKO’s style.
The skipping percussive hits set your pulse racing as the horns join
the party, making their presence known as the track begins to ascend.
“Adwa” dodges and weaves around the core riffs with a mid-section
powered by a dusty, unpredictable guitar solo. Not to be outdone, as the
guitar fades a burst of brass attacks your senses, leaving no rest for
your already shuffling feet.</div>
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For the weary dancers a respite is
waiting in the form of “Ti-de” – a wandering, swaying African waltz,
during which, each member is allowed the space to flex their musical
muscle throughout the six minutes of reflective soul. Little hints of
flair and finesse fill the gaps between the song’s main motifs, as the
band refrain from hitting full throttle. They want the listener to stay
connected to this moment with no distractions.</div>
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“Uman” is a
“celebration of women, black women in particular” according to Maurice
Grey, the collective’s composer and trumpeter. The initial notes sound
almost mournful, highlighting the struggles that have occurred
throughout history, and sadly that still arise today. As the notes fade,
the mood is shifted to become more empowering, a knowing laugh in the
face of adversity. This is a celebration of womanhood and black culture,
not a song of sympathy.</div>
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The EP closes with the glistening “Abusey
Junction”, KOKOROKO’s nocturnal, introspective lullaby. Built upon a
composition from guitarist <span class="secondary-artist" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/MusicGroup">Oscar Jerome</span>,
this is a song that is held close to the hearts of all that who hear
it, and will no doubt continue to bowl over thousands of new listeners
with it’s calming, meditive groove.</div>
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