The Afrorockerz is the revitalized project of guitarist Julien
Raulet. Knighted by Tony Allen and founding member of the band Fanga, a
french afrobeat septet known in the world music circuit. After meeting
with bassist and multi-instrumentalist Sylvain Daniel who navigates between rock&
jazz, it was evident he'd be an integral player. Both share the passion
of playing Fela Kuti's music as well as being inspired by Prince,
Talking Heads, & Frank Zappa. It wasn't long before they were joined
by Allonymous (Jimi Tenor, Push Up) on lead vocals. Chicago born
Parisian sworn painter, poet, & singer whose writing reflects his
atypic views on life, and is echoed through his hypnotic flow, and stage
presence.
Equally sharing lead vocals is Emma Lamadji whose powerful mezzo burns with the urgency &
serenity of the Central African origins she's rooted in. Together they
are perfect. Alternating between backing and lead, their two voices
unite to ignite our consciousness & liberate our bones.
From
the underground Parisian bars & clubs, to groundbreaking venues and
festivals, The Afrorockerz have continuously honed and shaped their
hornless sound. Yet one hardly misses this keystone. Analogue,
authentic, dirty, futuristic, traditional & furiously urban in the
same vain. Of course this sound would not be complete with out staple
metronome Maxime Zampieri who brings
rock/fusion, crash mathematics with a touch of class to the drums. Funk,
fueled riffs, & electrified, synth stabs are David Monet's speciality, thus it is no wonder he completes
the band.
The premier album simply entitled "The Afrorockerz" is
out now in France & Europe on Buda Musique. Anticipating it's North
American release in 2015. A multilayered soundtrack of life evoking
images of a revolutionary cast such as the likes of Tony Allen or Robert
Smith. The doors are bursting, expectation is high, it is 1981 all over
again at the 1st Avenue club in Minneapolis, and the lights are out!
---
Imagine Minneapolis in Lagos, the First venue club that was home to
Prince’s early ‘80s funk years somehow melding with the Shrine, where
Fela Kuti would play all night. Massive grooves, slithering, spiny funk,
and music packed with soul. But you don’t need to imagine it: The Afrorockerz already
have, adding a sprinkling of New Wave madness and Zappa-style
virtuosity into the music. The result is on display with glittering
brilliance on their debut, The Afrorockerz (released January 13th, 2015 on Buda Musique).
The brainchild of guitarist Julian Raulet – a man lauded by the
legendary Tony Allen – and bassist Sylvain Daniel, the band is built
around the groove. African inflections power “I Go U Go,” while jagged
slivers of guitar push through the mix, the track building to a
pounding, insistent climax. Then, on “Time For Me,” they do a little
time traveling to the early years of MTV, a slice of squiggly synth funk
with a chorus that sounds as if it should have been lodged in your head
forever.
Singer Allonymous – a Chicago transplant, now living in France like
the rest of the band, shines with his abstract poetic flow on “Hearts
And Lines,” which co-vocalist Emma Lamadji, born in Central Africa takes
“My Prayer” all the way to church. Full-throated and soulful, she makes
the song completely her own.
With David Monet on keyboards and Maxime Zampieri behind the drum
kit, The Afrorockerz are more than the sum of their influences. They’ve
absorbed that musical history and made it their own, building on it to
create something new that nods to the past but looks to a future of
global funk.
Starting in the Parisian underground scene, the band has built its
reputation, graduating from clubs to festivals, and becoming one of
France’s breakout groups, carrying the crowds with them wherever they
play.
It’s music for the urban future, gritty and dirty, but always real
and pushing beyond borders. It makes the dancefloor a place that crosses
cultures. It’s a sound that connects cultures and builds bridges out of
funk.
Formed in Johannesburg, South Africa, in 1978 by vocalist Patrick
Sefolosha and guitarist Kenny Mathaba, the Malopoets - alongside Sipho
Mabuse and Savuka - were, until their demise in 1986, one of the most
significant and rewarding groups at the rootsier end of the township pop
movement, playing a lighter, more relaxed form of mbaqanga. Sefolosha
and Mathaba had served their apprenticeship in the rock and
soul-orientated band Purple Haze before, alongside their audience,
becoming increasingly frustrated in the mid-70s with imported styles and
making a decision to strive for greater authenticity in their music. By
1983, however, the band were close to breaking up, finding it
practically impossible to make a living under apartheid, where black
bands were denied freedom to tour the country or promote their records
on state radio. Sefolosha accordingly left South Africa and teamed up
with producer Martin Meissonnier in Paris. A few months later the rest
of the group joined him, signed to EMI Records and, in 1984, released
the album, Malopoets. The set failed to make any impact on the
burgeoning African music scene in Europe, however, being adjudged too
pop-orientated by white audiences craving ‘roots’ sounds. It was
followed by an appearance on the 1985 Tam Tam Pour L’Ethiope record and
televised show, Africa’s indigenous response to Live Aid. Early the
following year the Malopoets broke up.
You know what’s sick? The finest South African hip hop album of 2010
was released in France in April last year, but only made it to our
shelves in November. Then it got buried in the glutt of Xmas releases,
and it took another 3 months for the the first single “Asinamali” to
surface on any of the local charts. It’s still hard not to come to the
conclusion that the labels, radio stations and the South African music
industry at large, slept on the biggest hip hop album of 2010.
But that’s just how it goes. The TATV Pick a Dream fiasco
says more about the weight of geo-politics on the South African music
industry than it does about the band’s intentions and the local
industry’s apathy. A few years back Tumi and the Volume were invited to
perform at the Sakifo music festival on Reunion Island, which belongs to
France despite being stuck out in the middle of the Indian Ocean, and
is therefore the closest first world country to South Africa. So
impressed was the festival organiser, Jerome Galabert, that he signed
Tumi and the Volume to his record label right there and started pushing
them through the channels in France and Europe. All of a sudden the band
was being booked for epic 3 month long European tours and collaborating
with a slew of French artists. Nowadays the majority of their fan base
lives outside of the RSA. It was a lucky break. Had TATV stayed in South
Africa they could have ended up just another casualty of the South
African music industry, banging their heads repeatedly against the glass
ceiling. Playing Oppikoppi year after year before the financial
attrition wore them down or caused them to implode. Luckily, the French
stepped in. But this also meant that one our most wildly original,
authentic and relevant hip hop acts, making music that relates directly
to this place and this time, suddenly graduated to a global stage and in
so doing, kind of left us behind.
But this article is not all about us South Africans feeling like
someone’s poor cousin, as our cultural jewels are pilfered by the fat,
rich fingers of the first world. There’s a silver lining to this tale.
Apart from the band being able to pay their bills; being the clear
channels that they are, the new Tumi and the Volume album really
captures and blends a lot of that creative French influence into their
production. The lyrical content and the subject matter is still rooted
in a South African context but the Francophone influences lift this from
being just another local hip hop joint to a much more experimental,
innovative and ultimately entertaining album. One of my biggest
criticisms of Tumi’s lyricism in the past is that he’s always had a
knack for pulling together the right musicians to create really
interesting musical environments for him to populate with his lyrics,
but at times on Live at the Bassline and the self-titled debut studio album, Tumi and the Volume,
it was almost as if he had too much to say and just kind of crammed it
into a series of rapid fire Tumi rhymes, without enough undulation or
variation to keep you listening to what he’s actually saying.
Then between this and his solo albums, something shifted. Tumi now
revels in the spaces between, dropping accessible verses ladened with
meaning. There’s a maturity to his work. You can’t miss it. More than
that, it really seems that as a musician, Tumi has something to say.
Which is pretty indicative on this album, because he almost spends more
time singing than rapping. It’s obvious that working with Danyel Waro
(he’s like the Hugh Masekela of Indian Ocean Island’s music) has opened
his eyes to new musical possibilities. As Tumi said in an earlier interview:
“I’m a vocalist. A vocalist raps, sings, whatever. And sometimes you
just feel, this needs singing. You’re the vocalist, sing. In that way,
knowing Danyel Waro changed my life. Danyel told me, ‘you go to a
funeral and everyone’s singing’. I used to think of singing as Whitney
Houston and Freddie Mercury. This is some high level, don’t fuck with
this shit. I’m like, yo guy, this is a craft. I need to understand this
thing. But Danyel Waro was like, ‘this is functional art. It doesn’t
matter where it is, at a funeral, at a wedding, when you’re happy, when
you’re sad. It’s your voice. So just sing man. Express yourself.’ And
I’ve always tried to be more melodic in my rapping anyway.”
The first song on the Pick a Dream “La Tete Savante” breaks
us a chunk of the new vibe immediately. It has a Malian feel with those
repetitive Touareg tin guitar strings, clapping and sparse tribal
percussion, some cowbell. Then changing it up, kind of futuristic and
groovy, shades of Kanye in Bamako via Dakar and Soweto. And then this
kicker which ties straight into the album cover. “They celebrated their
liberation with so much libation that when the morning came they had
lost their heads.” This is how I like my culture. Engaging, on point,
relevant and cutting straight to the core.
The first single “Asinamali” is a straight up old skool hip hop track,
reminiscent of the big beat late 80s, carrying more hardcore
contemporary ruminations from the big man:
“I can’t decide if it’s the money / put a low price on your soul / I
can’t decide if it’s the money / that’s got the people going out of
control”.
“Number 3″ dips back into familiar TATV territory, it kind of sounds
like a leftover track from their previous album. Melodic steady-fire
flow from Tumi carried by a Tiago riff on the guitar. But compared to
the innovation on the rest of the album this track just makes me feel
like we’re time travelling. And just as I’m thinking that, they flip it
and hit you with a chorus which is just so infectiously groovy that you
can’t help but smile and nod your head. It’s the old sound but with a
new twist, again referencing that 80s shout out hip hop made famous by
Public Enemy, KRS1 et al.
“Limpopo” then breaks out into the true innovative direction of this
album. Melodic chorus and melodic flow sing-song rapping, Tumi once
again, digging the rich vein of his family history for lyrical content
with the repetitive chorus reminding us, “one life to live, one life to
give, one life you’re given, just one life.”
Next up Tumi channels the angst and insecurities of suburban housewives
with “Moving Picture Frames”. Talk about flipping the script on all that
overplayed sexist bitch and nigga hip hop shit. It’s got a laid back
R&B kind of feel with Tiago tickling the strings while Tumi sings.
Usually I hate on R&B but this is more reminiscent of the Motown
roots than the travesties committed by Craig David and the slew of
modern, wimpy bootie track R&B artists.
“Through My Sunroof” is possibly the most powerful track on the album.
Downbeat. poignant. Sparsely populated percussive backbone for Tumi to
string those lyrics on. It’s got car crashes, infidelity, melody, angst,
despair, honesty. It’s a wild, different and compelling track. Hard to
compare to anything being produced in or out of South Africa at this
time. The whole song works like the moment after a traumatic event where
time stands still. “A butterfly flew through my sun roof”.
Then straight back to that stripped down old skool hip hop pedigree on “Reality Check”.
“Of Parties and Stars” takes it to a smooth hip pop nod your head kind
of place as the album picks up pace towards the back-end. “Made No More”
implores us to “change the laws and turn pop into art like we did
before”. And the album closes out with the melodic, sing-a-long “Light
in your Head” before taking one more trip uptown to the jazzy “Play
Nice” before finally letting us loose with the hidden track “Tine Blues”
ending proceedings very nicely.
It’s still bullshit that the album was released in France 7 long
months before we got to hear it at home, but at least Tumi and the
Volume are scooping up their experiences and inspirations, crunching
them through culture and serving them back to us on albums like this. At
least it finally arrived. Truth is Tumi and the Volume are fast leaving
the narrow confines of hip hop behind, they’re more like a world music
outfit with a hip hop crush, that’s driven by an all emcompassing
ambition, as Tumi says, when I ask him what he makes music for… “to
change the world.”
And here’s a final thought from big T from the V.
“Before, if you listen to those old records there’s stuff in there. But
it’s thick shit. It’s thick, gon’ take me some time to get this one. You
know what I mean? With this album, I don’t think I rhyme better than
Live At The Baseline but I do think I listen better. I know how to say
something easier. I can get to the point quicker than before. Before it
was like, I need to impress you. I need to prove that I’m fucking dope. I
need you to know that when the song is done… this mother fucking band
is the shit! Now if it’s a good song, it’s a good song. I know that you
motherfuckers don’t have 3 minutes to waste and still try figure shit
out.”
In an interview posted last year on French website www.libelabo.fr ,
Tumi Molekane, front man of Tumi and The Volume, comments that he was
actually “a little fed up with hip hop” before he met the musicians who
would go on to form Tumi and The Volume with him. He goes on to note
that the band evolved from a “spoken word back-up band” to being a tight
unit, with its members inseparable from the music being created. And
while TATV’s many fans, both locally and abroad, would have been able to
testify to this musical fusion on the evidence of the band’s two
previous albums (At The Bassline in 2004 and Tumi and The Volume in
2006), nowhere is it more evident than on their new project, Pick A
Dream (Sakifo Records 2010).
TATV have been a busy band these past few years, regularly touring in
Europe and playing more overseas than at home – or so it seems. While
the band is hailed in South Africa as one of the most original and
exciting acts we can call our own, few in the local scene are aware of
the standing which they enjoy overseas due to their hard work and
tireless touring. Through their travels, which have included regular
returns to the band’s beloved Reunion Island, home of the Sakifo music
festival, TATV have made some great contacts – one of these, Danyel
Waro, shares the final track, “Tine Blues” with Tumi on Pick A Dream.A
ballad in the Reunion Creole Maloya style, this song has Waro and Tumi
trading verses and lines, and is an off-beat but completely fitting cap
to a great collection of tracks.
Strangely, the album slipped out early this year in South Africa with
very little hype, having already been released in April last year in
France. On listening to Pick A Dream, one can only feel that
it’s simply a matter of time before it starts ripping up the local
airwaves, especially since the band has intentionally aimed for a more
polished sound and slick, radio-friendly production on this release.
Engineer and producer Laurent Dupuy and crack French studio team T ‘n
T teamed up with The Volume’s guitarist, Tiago Correia Paulo, for the
production of the album, which was recorded at Studio Py in Paris,
France. Going the extra distance to get the album done was certainly
worth the effort, as Pick A Dream is packed with sharp-edged beats and
great instrumental arrangements, all of which provide the platform for
Tumi Molekane’s superlative poetic MC skills. Apart from the slick
production and arrangements (which are refreshingly different in their
tone from most of the local generic American-ish hip hop being churned
out at the moment), the pace is relentless, and this release should
banish any doubt (if there ever was any) that TATV is a world-class act.
Pick A Dream is TATV in take no prisoners mode, and there is not one
lame duck track on the album. Lyrically, Tumi’s targets include music
(and hip hop) industry stereotypes, those obsessed with the machinery of
“celebrity”, and corrupt leaders. Tumi’s lyrics reflect a poet pushing
the edge, both in terms of lyrical content and execution; there are few
MC’s in SA, or the world even, who have the combined gift of the
penetrating thought and dextrous delivery that is Tumi’s trademark. Of
course, the band’s signature sound also depends on the fine work which
the rest of The Volume puts in, and they prove time and again why a live
band can generate exponentially more energy than any backing track
being spun by a DJ.
Staying true to form, Tumi takes aim at the things which keep people
down, and suggests that there might often be more going on than meets
the eye. “La Tete Savant”, the opening track, is a semi-biographical
symbolic tale about identity, expressed through the journey of
characters literally searching for their heads; this mirrors the
brilliant album sleeve artwork by French graphic artist Hyppolite.
“Asinamali” and “Number Three” are TATV in full cry, and manage to
convey something of the live energy for which the band is renowned.
“Limpopo” is an uplifting ode to life, with a beautiful instrumental
break near the end of the track. TATV delve into more introspective and
sombre territory in “Moving Picture Frames” , “Through My Sunroof” and
“Light In Your Head”, adding some shade to the album’s light. Other
stand-out tracks include the funky “Reality Check” and the incendiary
parting shot of “Play Nice”, which includes a cameo by Tiago and Paulo’s
340ml bandmate, Pedro Da Silva Pinto.
For an arresting and progressive document of a band pushing the
boundaries of their genre, Pick A Dream is hard to beat, and the
instrumentation and lyrics will bear up to heavy rotation; and although
this album slid quietly onto the local scene, it’s sure to become a
benchmark for future contenders for the throne of South African hip hop.
Generating a well-deserved buzz in Israel's exploding music scene,
HOODNA AFROBEAT ORCHESTRA electrifies dance floors wherever they perform. The band is hard at work recording their first album, scheduled for release in 2015.
Living at a crossroads south Tel-Aviv, you will always find the infectiously danceable African grooves that are the foundation of HOODNA AFROBEAT ORCHESTRA. The band effortlessly ties it all together, resulting in a unique version of afrobeat.
Hoodna Afrobeat Orchestra, also known H.A.O, is an Israeli Afrobeat band from the south part of Tel-Aviv, formed in 2013. Inspired by the humming and clanging of carpentry and metal workshops.
Originally conceived as a traditional Afrobeat group, H.A.O quickly developed a far spikier sound, often played faster and more emphatically than many of their contemporaries. They have also proven adept at broadening their sound by incorporating influences from a variety of other genres.
H.A.O.'s rousing live shows quickly attracted an enthusiastic following. After their debut EP, "No A.C.", they are currently working on their 1st Album, to be recorded in the Israeli dessert.
Track I — 12 x 12 (vernacular) 7.28.
Upon my arrival in South Africa, I quickly learned that the twelve-bar
blues (called "the twelve") reigned supreme at the local "blows".
Somehow, I became fascinated with the relationship of the two musical
absolutes — twelve bars in twelve keys and my wife, Terry, decided it
should be "twelve by twelve". As Kippie said, "keys are keys wherever
you go".
Track 2 — "Mabomvana" (Mackay Davashe) 5.02.
"Mabomvana" literally means "little red" but a free translation would be
"hot stuff ". One night at a session, the subject of the number of
possible harmonic "solutions" to an original melody arose and I
maintained there could be more than one until the composer designated
his particular "solution". Kippie agreed, but some of the others doubted
it so Kippie played this vernacular piece "Mabomvava" and asked me to
work out a "solution." I had never heard the tune before and my solution
was based upon a familiar chord chart in F sharp major. This broke
Kippie up since he had played the tune for years on a chord chart in B
flat major. We decided to record both solutions of the same melody—
"Mabomvana" in B flat major and "Johnny's Idea" in F sharp major.
Track 4 — "Like Someone In Love" (Burke, Van Heusen) 3.31.
This one features Hugh. An advocate of the Beiderbecke — Davis-Baker
school, Hugh has developed many of his own personal idioms which already
mark him as an original thinking musician in contemporary jazz. His
proposed trip to America this winter for study may be the beginning of a
major jazz career.
Total Time: 19 mins. 47 sees.
Track I — "Angel Eyes" (Matt Dennis) 11.29.
We decided we needed a "fat" tune to stretch out with and here it is.
Kippie's solo, I believe, is one of the great moments of the entire two
volumes.
Track 2 — "Yardbird Suite" (Parker) 3.39.
Kippie again with a bow to Parker. Of all the Parker imitators, and they
are legion, Kippie seems the most personal and the least imitative.
Like Parker, he is short on repertoire and long on the blues, although
living where he does justitfies an un-familiarity with tunes that is
impermissible in America where fifteen - tune musicians flourish.
Track 3 — "These Foolish Things" (Strachey, Marvell) 4.16
Chris again with a ballad. One learns to really play a ballad last —the
most difficult challenge for an improvisor. Chris handles this well with
a nod to George Shearing.
This album is a masterpiece. Totally afrobeat taken from traditional tchinkoume rhythm of Benin that Stanislas Tohon wonderfully modernized. Recorded in Côte d'Ivoire and Produced by famous Papa Disco, the orchestration, the arrangements and especially the density of the recording make this record unique. It is also very rare and hard to find.
Afro-Soul holy grail by the “Soul Brother From Benin“, featuring the
famous “Vis à Vis” band from Ghana and recorded in Kumasi in 1979.
Stanislas Tohon aka Papy Grande was born in the “ Country of the
kings ” (Benin), in Abomey 1955. He’s “Chevalier de la legion d’honneur”
in Benin for his brilliant musical career.
The famous soul singer from Cotonou started his musical career at the
age of 9 , played with the greatest such as Gnonnas Pedro and recorded
almost 35 albums. Influenced by the traditional “Tchingoume “ music , he
invented his own rhythm called “Tchink Système”, a mix of soul and
Beninese traditional rhythm .
“Dans le Tchink Système” is a four track album recorded in Ghana on
24 analog tracks channel with the incredible “Vis à Vis Band”, included
a rare version of his first 7 inch “Africa “ that he recorded a year
before with “Les Satelites” from Cotonou.
Sang in Fon, his native language from Benin, this album is a soulful
call for peace and unity in Africa, a real definition of Afro Soul music
!
This extremely scarce and obscure record is now remastered and
stricltly limited to 1000 copies . Official Licence available Dec 10 th
2014 .
For the first five years of their existence,
it was a fairly simple matter to take a guess at the title of the next
Budos Band recording. That’s what happens when your debut is called The Budos Band and the next two albums are The Budos Band II and The Budos Band III.
That’s called establishing a precedent. And so, when the Staten Island
“instrumental afro-soul” band announced that their Oct. 21 album would
be titled Burnt Offering rather than The Budos Band IV, it was clear that something was up.
Reviews of Budos recordings tend to minimize the amount of growth and transformation that did go on between Budos Band I and III.
The three LP’s can’t rightly be called “extensions of the same musical
thought”—they’re more like a journey down an increasingly apocalyptic
road. Like a high fantasy novel, they begin in a place that is bright
and almost (relatively) innocent before growing and multiplying in the
audaciousness and opulence of their arrangements. By the end of Budos Band III,
there’s a distinct impression that these sprawling funk instrumentals
are teetering on the edge, clearly brilliant but moments from spinning
out of control. The band is performing music like Bobby Fischer played
chess. It may have simply been an unsustainable arc.
And thus, Burnt Offering, which represents a full-on mutation
rather than the previous steady evolution of Budos music. It’s 2014, and
in the band’s Daptone studio, it would seem guitars are all the rage.
Because for the first time, “funk rock” becomes an accurate descriptor
for the still-complex musical sprawl, which now evokes the likes of
Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin right alongside Fela Kuti.
“The Sticks” is a fine example of what to expect, opening with a riff
that sounds straight out of Iron Butterfly’s “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.”
Trippy keyboard swirls around the fuzzy guitars that are now leading the
way, with occasional blasts from the horn section reminding the
listener that you’re still listening to a Budos Band recording.
“Aphasia” is similar but more segmented, trading off segments between
familiar funk and vintage-sounding guitar breakdowns that could have
been rescued from the cutting-room floor of some early heavy metal
exploration. It’s difficult to say whether those two halves ever truly
become a whole.
The most effective example might be “Magus Mountain,” which
integrates the guitar arrangements organically with soaring horns to
create something closest to the desired funk-rock fusion. The
traditional drum kit (gone is the hand percussion) is also significantly
more noticeable here than in most other Budos recordings, shouldering a
greater burden of providing a strong foundation for guitars and horns
to riff upon.
It’s a mostly successful experiment that, in all reality, still
retains much of the DNA of The Budos Band’s past triumphs while
simultaneously embracing a very specific stylistic addition. The new
elements add freshness but simultaneously detract on some level from the
band’s uniqueness, the x-factor that only they were able to provide in
the past. There are still irresistible dance grooves here, but also more
segments that are likely to call for headphone introspection. It might
even be safer than that out-of-control feeling on Budos Band III.
One can only hope that future Budos Band recordings retain at least
this level of their signature sound—it’s entirely too good and too
uncommon to discard.
After three albums of uniformly excellent, Afrofunk-fueled instrumentals—titled, tellingly, The Budos Band, The Budos Band II, and The Budos Band III—where were the Budos Band
to go? As great as their output has been to date, the New York ensemble
had more or less painted themselves into a corner. In truth, there were
many directions the group could have headed toward on their fourth
album, but they dauntingly chose the path of most imaginable resistance:
doom metal. Rub your eyes all you want; it won’t change that sentence.
The Budos Band’s new album is called Burnt Offering—and from its wizard-sporting cover on down, it draws heavily from the late-'60s/early-'70s well of dark, arcane proto-metal.
To be perfectly clear: This is not your uncle’s Primus-shirted funk-metal. The majority of Burnt Offering
is built on the same framework that the Budos Band has always
used—elegantly simple guitar, deep pockets of syncopation, and bold
shouts of brass—but here it’s been wreathed in the thick organ vamps of
the bands that helped inspire metal, namely Iron Butterfly and Uriah
Heep. Those looking for kvlt cred won’t find it here, nor should they;
the album’s heaviest tracks, like the fuzz-slathered “Aphasia” and the
gutbucket-distorted title track don’t come anywhere near the metal
orthodoxy of Pentagram, let alone Black Sabbath. This is still Afrofunk
of the Fela Kuti faith, with “Tomahawk” being the most horn-splashed and
intricately polyrhythmic of the bunch.
When the delicate guitar
intro of “Magus Mountain” drops into a propulsive, blown-out low gear,
though, it’s as if Sir Lord Baltimore is jamming with Maggot Brain-era
Funkadelic. The fidelity is immaculately retro, saturated and
reverberating, which lends an even more eerily anachronistic tone to
simmering, sinuous cuts such as “Black Hills” and “Turn and Burn”, the
latter of which lands the album in some swampy epoch of alternate
history. “Into the Fog” more or less says it all; with organ chords
transmogrified into haunted-house groans, and monstrous stomps shuffling
somewhere between Blue Öyster Cult's “Godzilla” and Fela’s “Zombie”,
the song is all meat, zero subtext. Not that an album this earthy needs
anything so subtle to get its freaky point across.
Burnt Offering has
its own kind of subtlety, and most of it is in the interplay between
meter, genre, and mood. When it falls a little flat, on the tame, muted
“Trail of Tears” and “Shattered Winds”, it still manages to register as
better-than-average Afrofunk with a tasteful layer of filthy hard rock
smeared on top. It's not a profound exercise in fusion, and at times it
seems the band might be amusing themselves at the expense of being taken
seriously. But the most remarkable thing about Burnt Offering is
that, at its core, it really isn’t all that much of a departure from
what the Budos Band has always done. The neatest trick the album pulls
off is in finding the unexplored commonality between Afrofunk and doom
metal—deep grooves, murky atmosphere, hypnotic riffs—then playing them
with joy and loopy abandon. Spooky, funky, freedom-loving fun: The
chance to embrace something like that doesn’t come along often, and it’s
to be cherished.
Don’t let that album cover and title fool you. The level of departure
here is so slight that the boys could’ve gone ahead and just slapped a
roman numeral four on there. The Budos Band’s approach to instrumental
funk/soul has always had a touch of the ominous. They reclaim the
original grandeur of Beethoven’s Fifth while fitting into
the fun and frivolity of how the symphony has been fetishized over time.
It’s music for dancing, to be sure, but it contains a mood that sort of
hovers over the revelry. It’s looking down on itself from a great
height. It isn’t imbued with judgement, necessarily, but a grave sort of
knowingness. It feels good in the crowd, bathed in darkness and strange
lights. But something is moving us, and we are a little bit scared of
the possession. Most dance music uses this feeling as a segue to
release. Budos Band just lays in the pocket and glowers with a fierce
but composed solemnity.
All grasping pseudo-profundity aside, we’re talking more tasteful
deep-funk liberally laden with monster-mashable, Éthiopiques-style
keyboard drone. Burnt Offering lets things simmer a bit
more here and there, but the record is pretty much business as usual.
Despite prominent distorted rock guitar and snatches of discordance,
this music is too classy for the b-movie scores that apparently inspired
it. When I try to pair what I’m hearing with Argento or Romero films,
it feels oddly ill-fitting. Yet the Budos sound is somehow very
theme-oriented. It’s just that its foreboding swagger is too potent to
take a backseat to a larger presentation. Perhaps their music is the
theme to devil-may-care grace itself. That walk and lean and gesture to a
world standing still in fearful anticipation.
The momentum of these songs is fearsome, their get-in, get-out run times elegantly restrained. Burnt Offering
may not be a groundbreaker, and (as with previous outings) can begin to
feel a tad rote if you’re not in the right mood. But this record is
nowhere near the neighborhood of inessential. This is your Halloween
party record, without a doubt, but really any party with Daptone artists
blasting from the speakers is well on its way. So come for the gimmicks
if you so choose, but you’ll be staying for the empowering, molten
slab-rocking, stentorian fury these guys unfailingly bring time and
again. Be sure and move somethin’ while you’re there.
Although the first three Budos Band albums (helpfully titled I, II and III)
were generally regarded as straight-up Afro-beat and jazz-tinged
funk/soul, rock elements did creep into the mix, and in recent years
reviews of the instrumental group’s live shows have steadily grown more
and more psychedelic. Burnt Offering is the culmination of that evolution, and it’s telling that they opted not to title it Budos Band IV;
that mystic sleeve artwork, done by art teacher (and Budos drummer)
Brian Profilio isn’t a coincidence, either. They said as much when
announcing the record, noting how it “reflects their love of Black
Sabbath and Pentagram as much as it does Fela Kuti.”
Indeed, right from the get-go the album proceeds along the
aforementioned lines: “Into the Fog” and “The Sticks” both have
signature heavy riffs powered by the bass guitar, and although the
group’s horn section is equally busy, the tunes’ arrangements suggest a
‘70s rock band utilizing horns rather than a traditional funk ensemble
tipping its hat at rock music. The title track recalls vintage Deep
Purple, what with its ominous introductory chords followed by the
launching of a heavy bassline, gloom-and-doom keyboards and
searing/droning lead fuzz guitar all dominant over the horns. And “Magus
Mountain” has an unexpected Nuggets vibe to it—speaking of
psychedelic—in the way the guitar and organ suggest a garage rock tune
with horns added to it. Even the songtitles tilt in this direction:
“Aphasia,” “Into The Fog,” “Shattered Winds,” “Magus Mountain,” “Turn
and Burn,” etc.
What will be interesting to see is whether the Budos Band’s fanbase will follow ‘em down this path because the group did make
its reputation as being one of the more prominent young Afro-beat
ensembles to emerge in the recent past. One imagines certain purist fans
recoiling and dropping out while a host of newcomers discover ‘em.
Regardless, artists fiercely need to experiment and evolve—case in point, another “non rock” group, Latin/funksters Brownout, recently recorded a tribute to Black Sabbath titled Presents Brown Sabbath
that’s been earning rave notices—so it’s likely that a combo as
talented as the Budos Band will remain a work in progress, unwilling to
rest on laurels or sit still for very long.
Released on Daptone Records on Oct. 21, Burnt Offering, the new full-length album from The Budos Band, steps a bit away from the dance floor.
It moves toward the ooze of early Black Sabbath. Slithers through the
minimalist rhythms of early the West German rock band Can. And swings
with freedom similar to Scorpions in their Lonesome Crow fusion
phase. While this record is a slight departure from all the Sly Stone
and James Brown musical cues, it shines on as a natural progression. As
any record collector will tell you, after you sample all the obvious
funk Gods, where do you go? To the early metal, that was based in the
blues.
As noted in the press release, the title track, “Into The Fog,” was
recorded with a Binson Echorec, a classic tape machine used by Pink
Floyd/Syd Barrett. With a trumpet solo that references early non-funky,
pre-CTI Freddie Hubbard, it sets the tone of the 10-track instrumental
record and stands as a warning call to fans of the band. This record
will weigh a bit heavier on your brain fuzz-meter than a dance floor
playlist.
And that’s OK. The Budos Band have proven with previous releases that they shake asses at shows. Consistently.
The uptempo afro-funk of the tracks “Tomahawk” and “Shattered Wind”
checks in with Fela-inspired sax solos. And “The Sticks,” the second
song on the record, is squarely centered on an organ-based groove. But
it’s the new territory, complete with the boggy psych rock context, that
gives this record a different identity.
The beautifully dirge-laden “Aphasia” reinforces the truth that all
great guitar solos get better with a foot in your chest rhythm section.
This is the early crunch and punch Black Sabbath tribute, but with a
sharp horn line replacing Ozzy. The title track, “Burnt Offering,”
wields ornate horn charts with psychedelia running amok on the organ
keys, and then ends with an epic Keith Moon meets John Bonham drum solo.
It is an awesome thing.
“Magus Mountain,” the standout song of the entire album, starts with a
light Heart-esque guitar solo, and then it boils ahead with the
perfect balance of spiritual mysticism and rock-funk dominance. This
synthesis of organ, bass, and in-the-pocket drum precision paints the
perfect setting for the cavalcade horn charts to soar, swirl and
explode. Keeping true to the character of the album, the breakdowns
excrete with muddy metal and prog-rock essence.
Clocking in at just under 40 minutes, Burnt Offering is the band’s most challenging release to date.
What do you get when you blend psychedelic sounds, a nine piece band
and add a pinch of movie soundtracks? Yeah, you know the answer to this
silly hypothetical because you’ve read the headline. Burnt Offering is The Budos Band’s
fourth album and their first since 2010. The instrumental ten track
offering is in no way charred, but it definitely has some hot riffs.
While previous albums by the New York outfit have been named in numeric order, Burnt Offering
is the first to have its own title and it is evident why: the album
departs from the more funk infused style of the previous records and
delivers a psychedelic hard rock sound. Burnt Offering starts out slow but quickly builds up into a powerful rhythm.
Overall, it is kind of like a 60s James Bond soundtrack if Roger
Moore were about to bust out some Soul Train moves. The opening track Into the Fog sums up it pretty well – you are about to enter into a haze of fusion.
Brass riffs are accompanied with an electric bite, which somehow
manages to make funk sound brooding. At times there are worldly
influences in the songs. The trumpet often sounds like it should be
calling out from a baking Mexican desert and, in more than one instance,
there was a Middle Eastern tone coming through.
Each song has a strong hook which is often repeated, which is what gives Burnt Offering
that soundtrack vibe. Overall it works well as an album but the
repetitive nature can make some of the songs blend into the background.
The band have nailed intros, in particular the track, Magus Mountain has a very strong start.
The artwork for the album seemingly reveals some of the inspiration
behind the album, it would comfortably sit at home on a Zeppelin or
Sabbath record. In fact, the best way to describe the album is imagining
Black Sabbath tasked with writing a Tarantino soundtrack, except
replace Tony Iommi with brass and sax… and completely remove Ozzy’s
vocals. Listen to Aphasia and you will feel it ooze Sabbath goodness.
Although it is a thoroughly enjoyable album to listen to, Burnt Offering
does not break new ground in terms of sound, it just borrows from a
number of influences to create a very unique but familiar concoction. In
more ways than one way, it is nice to hear something which could have
been released comfortably in the 70s being created in 2014.
