"African"

As has happened a few times before, in the process of writing this post I found that others (in this case Global Groove) have posted the same (see below) album. In this case I am going to completely ignore this. Well perhaps not completely. But I am nevertheless going to post it.

I know I should get over it, but even with the steady process of aging and the tolerance this is supposed to bring I can still get disproportionately irritated about the indiscriminate use of the adjective "African". The World Cup in South Africa provided plenty of opportunities to congratulate/sympathise with/praise etc. the "African" people/organisers/public and what-have-you. Do these commentators, big shots and others seriously think that there is one common factor in this immense and mindboggling variety of peoples, cultures and worlds which can be found in the African continent? Can anyone explain why a Senegalese should be primarily seen as "African", while an Italian is rarely addressed as "European"?
And I could even see the logic of the latter. There is a far greater homogeny between Europeans than there is between the inhabitants of the African continent. There are plenty of reasons why Africa can not be seen as a country. For one thing, infrastructurally Africa is in parts still in the (relative) dark ages. And I could go on, elaborating on the ethnic diversity of individual countries, the vast differences between cultures within a single country etcetera.

So please, think before chucking in "African", while talking about one country in the continent....

Now that I've got that of my chest, let's get to an example of an "African" lp. A multi-country affair, with music from Congo (Zaïre) but released in Nigeria. A rather strange compilation with two part two's and a mistake which wouldn't look out of place with a African (!)/Sonodisc or a Syllart compilation.

Ntesa Dalienst is represented with two of his compositions with Les Grands Maquisards, "Biki" and "Maria Mboka" (misspelled "Mariam Mboka"). The version of "Biki" is by far the longest I know; it's more than three minutes longer than the version on African 360.014 and the one on African 360.155, and even longer than the almost eight minute version on Ngoyarto NG 034. Like "Biki", the wonderful "Maria Mboka", with Diana, Kiesse Diambu and Lokombe in the chorus, is one of the many highlights in the career of Ntesa (who sadly passed away in 1996).

The first two tracks certainly merit their selection in any compilation of Congolese music. I can think of few songs which are more typical of Johnny Bokelo's Conga 68 (Success) than "FC Dragons", and I can see how the break after 2'52 would appeal to a Nigerian dance crowd.
I can only speculate, but it appears to me that "Lisumu Lisango" by the Elegance Jazz was (also) included for the 'rootsy' feel of the song. And this may also be the reason for the selection of the two part two's. Verckys' "Mfumbwa 2" would undoubtedly get Nigerian 'booties' shaking.... The same goes for Orchestre Bella-Bella's "Sola 2" with the 'get down' break after only 50 seconds.

As a European I am strongly inclined to look up the first part of these part two's. I would like to argue that in both cases these are an essential part of the composition. The song "Mfumbwa" is just not the same without the "bolingo " after 1'11, the subsequent clucking, and - of course - the great horns.
And with "Sola", composed by Mulembu Tshibau, who apparently died this year, I get goosebumps from Pépé Kallé's backing vocal in part 1 in particular and the vocal harmonies in general, plus the horns, the bass player (!) ... and I could go on.

So, European as I am, I am adding the complete tracks as an extra to this post.

The last track, by the way, is not by Bella-Bella, but - of course - by Verckys and his orchestre Vévé (and can also be found on the African 360.014 lp I mentioned above). This song "Na komitunaka" ("I keep asking myself") has been the subject of many studies. In it Verckys asks why all the saints are white. Why is God not an African?

Soundpoint SOP 042
extra

P.S. It appears that this lp has been released at least twice in Nigeria. This version, which I bought at least 25 years ago, is on the Soundpoint label, while the lp Global Groove posted is on a label called Deram.
Has anyone ever seen the volumes 1, 2 or 3???

Once you have heard one...?

Philips 420011 PE 'Afro Rhythm Parade vol.5'

Morogoro marvels

If you ask me, this is an album which should be put on the World Heritage List. All human beings should at least be made aware of the existence of this music by the immortal Mbaraka Mwinshehe and the Morogoro Jazz.

This is certainly one of my very favourite albums by Mbaraka. When it comes to Mbaraka at his Mbaraka-st, you can hardly get any better than this. From the slightly out of tune horns in the opening track "Mapenzi Ya Nitesa" to the master's pizzicato plucking in the last track "Dr. Klerruu", there is no hint of pretentiousness, no trace of conceit. I almost feel like I shouldn't be listening to it: this music wasn't made so some idiot Dutchman would listen to it. The musicians can't possibly have been thinking that they would at one point be heard by a world-wide audience.

I don't think it would be wise to write about the individual songs. I won't write about how I love the breaks in "Matusi Ya Nini?" and "Pesa No.1", or the brilliant guitar explosions in "Mitindo Yetu", the classic "Dr. Klerruu", the Franco-esque climax of "Matusi Ya Nini", the amazing.....

Words won't do justice to the extasy this music can bring. I'll leave you to listen - probably in awe - to these Morogoro marvels.....

Polydor POLP 544 or POLP 544

Baby

Pronounced "bah-bee", to be precise. A track which first appeared on the 1991 album "L'Orchestre T.P. O.K. Jazz (Héritage de Franco) avec le Commandant Josky Kiambukuta", and - like all the tracks on that album - composed by Josky himself.
More significant is the subtitle of this album: "Les Mayeno A Gogo", - where "mayeno" refers to breasts, and not the young variety, but those of a mother. While I am told that the "mayeno" is actually a traditional dance of the Bantandu, it is clear that the T.P. O.K. Jazz after Franco's death made an effort to stay "with it".

R to L: Chécain, Aimé, Josky, Ndombe, Diatho (Brussels, 1991)

With Franco still alive things were very different. His songs were always the subject of public scrutiny, and his lyrics always led to popular discussion, as they dealt with issues concerning the average Congolese, the man in the street.
Franco's death meant the end of an era and the start of a period of great unrest. Within a year of his death many musicians, including longtime members of the O.K. Jazz Isaac Musekiwa and Dessoin Bosuma, died - often under mysterious circumstances. Rumours of sorcery (never far away where Franco was concerned) and treachery were rampant. Every incident was viewed with suspicion.

With Franco gone, the remaining members of the T.P. O.K. Jazz and those who had (re)joined the band (Carlito, Ndombe) looked around and saw that the public's focus was rapidly shifting towards other, younger musicians. Franco's death also offered new possibilities: Franco had never been somewhat 'reserved' in adding synthesizers and electronic effects to his songs, stating that he wanted to make sure that the public knew it was Franco who was playing. And Franco had been quite strict when it came to moonlighting outside of the O.K. Jazz.

In this setting the regrouped T.P. O.K. Jazz introduced a new dance, the "mayeno". In retrospect I doubt whether this was a smart move. Franco's sexually explicit songs weren't sexually explicit just for the fun of it; he wanted to draw attention to the perversity in parts of Congolese society. Franco was always a 'naughty boy'; when he made sexual references in his songs, these were never out of character. With the "mayeno" Simaro's T.P. O.K. Jazz stepped out off character. They attempted to compete with bands like Zaiko Langa Langa, who in the early 1990s introduced a dance called "Etutana, Yango Na Yango" (which I gather translates into "Bang them together, this and that!"). Although the mayeno seems innocent compared to this, it just didn't seem right to see the middle-aged frontmen of a respected, 35-year old orchestra on stage pretending to juggle their tits....

Musically Josky remained more in style, continuing his line of songs in the San Salvador tradition he had started with "Fariya", - a song which he repeats in a medley on the 1991 lp. In fact, all the tracks on the 1991 lp are in this style, including "Baby".
The lp can be found, by the way, on the Global Groove blog.

Instead of the lp I would like to share with you this remarkable video of Josky performing "Baby" with Zaiko Langa Langa. Joining Josky in this song are his O.K. Jazz colleagues Madilu System and (later) Lukoki Diatho. Malage De Lugendo is also in this video, but had already moved to Zaiko. I estimate this video to be from 1991, but please correct me if I am wrong (it can't be a lot older, as I copied it in 1993).


By the way, you may have noticed that YouTube is now allowing videos with a maximum length of 15 minutes. I have therefore reposted "Testament Ya Bowule" (see here and here), Dalienst's "Munsi" (the Abidjan version, see this post) and Hawa Dramé's "Noumou Foli" to YouTube.
Links:
Testament: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUvN4tMCrAE
Munsi: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLFATgO2NU4
Hawa Dramé: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-1wVzciBF8

P.S.: The great photo on the right was taken by Aboubacar Siddikh during a rehearsal.

More Djata

This is the sixth post dedicated to the music of the Super Djata Band ( 1, 2, 3, 4 & 5), and certainly not the last. Although I haven't checked, I think it is safe to say that this music is increasingly hard to find in Mali, - let alone outside of Mali. So besides sharing this music with you, conserving it for posterity is a motive for this post.

This lp is the second of two volumes which were released in the early 1980s by the Musique Mondiale label in Abidjan (Côte D'Ivoire), the first of which I posted in December 2009. There are only five tracks on this album and three of these are slow, - which for those of you who only know their European releases may come as something of a surprise. The two tracks on side A, "Yacouba" and "Konadou", have been repeated on a later album, which I posted in December 2008. Both these tracks are, however, considerably longer on this lp.

The B-side contains a cover of a song made famous by Coumba Sidibé, which can be found on the cassette I posted earlier. On that cassette the track is - probably erroneously - titled "Fakoye Noumouye" (which seems to refer to "Fakoly" and "Noumou", which in turn suggests that the song is about blacksmiths). On the Djata lp the more popular title of "Yamba" ("happiness") is used. I advise you to take the time to compare the two versions. Coumba's version was recorded and released a few years later than Flani's/Djata's versions and therefore may have a 'better' or cleaner sound. And Coumba is probably the singer with the more powerful voice. But I really like the pentatonic twists in Flani's version.

The second song, "Mali den", is sung by Mamadou 'Johnny' Diabaté, who with the Djata Band was responsible for the few Malinké songs in their repertoire.
"Bimoko Magnin", the last song on the album, is a rather bizarre duet of Alou Fané and Flani, with Flani singing in a falsetto voice.

Returning to the A-side, "Yacouba" is a song which was quite a success for the Djata Band in the early 1980s. It is an emotional tribute to Yacouba, a dancer of the Ballet National, who was killed by bandits in Dakar in 1973 at the age of 45. This Yacouba was the star of a dance called "Gomba", a sacred dance of the Bambara of Djitimou. Others who have passed away (Aboubacar Demba Camara, Sory Kandia Kouyaté and Biton's Sadio 'Aw' Traoré) were also commemorated in the song. Those who have seen the Djata Band during their 1980s concerts in Europe and Japan may remember the emotional moment when the whole band knelt down during this song. Flani in 1987 recalled a performance in Bamako when large parts of the audience started crying; he himself felt the tears rolling down his cheeks...

Here is a video, of a concert recorded by Malian television in the early 1980s, of the Djata Band playing this song. The quality of this video is unfortunately very poor, but the music and the performance should amply compensate for this...


Personally I have great difficulties watching this video, with memories of Flani and Alou, who have both joined Yacouba, blurring my vision....

There is one song remaining in this album: "Konadou". This is a song which strongly reminds me of Alou Fané. Listening to the version on this album you will probably be asking why, as Flani is the lead vocalist and Alou doesn't even sing in the chorus. But if you listen to the version of this song recorded live during a concert in the Melkweg in Amsterdam, on March 20, 1987, and more specifically to Alou's 'climactic intervention' after 5'20, you will probably understand why I associate this song with this great (and sadly missed) man.

Musique Mondiale MAD 004

"Konadou" live 1987

Sax & flute jive

Called it synchronicity, call it a coincidence, call it whatever you like: I was busy uploading this cassette when I saw ElectricJive had posted the next volume in this series.

I gladly refer you to ElectricJive's post, and not just for this post.

I can confirm that there are five volumes in this series, and I will post them all, if you are patient. If I remember correctly I bought these cassettes in the early 1980s in a small shop in Soho, London, together with two volumes of Congolese music from the 1950s. Later on I also found a cassette by Monguito El Unico from the (probably) same source. The rest you can read in my earlier post of the first volume.

Even more than the first volume it has taken a while for me to grasp this music. I think it was after my visit to SA in the late 1990s that I could ´translate´ the atmosphere and feel of these recordings, and connect it to the people. Not that could find a lot of this music when I was there, by the way. But that´s another story....

South African Jive Vol.2: Sax & flute jive

Renaissance

Having just spent two weeks trying to recover files from a failing & angrily resisting hard disk, I am happy to report that most files have been saved. Only about 2% of the volume was lost.
So I now can get back to the business of sharing some of the forgotten and/or (almost) lost wonders of African (and latin) music with you. And in this case a cassette by a Guinean star who has been the subject of a post in November 2008: Mory Djeli Kouyaté, who used to be nicknamed "Dienne", but later changed this to "Deen".

In my earlier post I stated that Mory Djeli was from Kankan. It appears that this is incorrect: I am told he was born in Siguiri. But he did rise to stardom in the second town of Guinea, Kankan.

It appears to me that this cassette from 1993 was Mory Djeli's first attempt at a break-through on the international market. While the cassette from 1990 which I posted earlier was still devoid of the electronic interventions which seem to tipify recordings made in Parisian studios, this cassette seems to have been the first in which Mory Djeli cooperated with Jean-Philippe Rykiel. A cooperation which, unfortunately, seems to have continued right into the present day.

Personally I am no fan of Mr. Rykiel's meddlings in African music. One of the attractions of (a large part of) African music is the omission, the leaving out of the obvious, the rhythmical gaps, the unsuspected zeros. Mr. Rykiel's synthetic additions fill in these holes like a thick greasy mayonnaise, covering - and in some cases blocking - the subtle tastes of the African ingredients.

It has taken me quite a while to get over the Parisian production of this cassette. But after listening to truckloads of Parisian and Paris-influenced cassettes from west-african artists, my senses seem to have been blunted enough not to be annoyed or irritated by the rykielisation. I have trained my ears not to hear it....

And in hindsight, there have been many cassettes in which the Parisian production is far more pronounced. Even within Mory Djeli's oeuvre, this is one of the more modest productions. The balafon played by M'Mabou Camara and the - at times frenetic - ngoni of Garba Tounkara can still be discerned, and the female chorus sounds far less 'canned' than it does in other productions.
And then there is the winning element of this music: Mory Djeli's brilliant vocals. This man has a Voice.

My favourite songs on this cassette are "I Nagna", "Mory Nikala" and "Telemba". Songs with an enormous drive and with Mory Djeli's power vocals accentuating this drive. In the first track on the B-side pays homage to Amadou Toumani Touré, who at the time had handed back power to the civilian authorities after performing a coup d'état against Moussa Traoré in 1991.

Mory Djeli apparently has made friends in high places. When he fell ill a few years ago, he was sent to Morocco to recover by the then Guinean president Lansana Conté. More recently Mory Djeli, who seems to have acquired the nickname of "Bélébéléba de la musique guinéenne" ("Big - or literally: fat - man of Guinean music"), with his latest album "Sauvons La Guinée" ("Let's save Guinea") appears to have taken on the task of restoring order and peace in his home country.....

Sona Store Production 2091

As a bonus I am adding a track recorded live in Conakry (and broadcasted on Dutch radio some years ago), just to give you an idea of what Mory Djeli could sound like without the Parisian production....

Mory Djeli live

July 6, 1938

It is exactly 72 years ago today that one of the greatest stars of African music was born in Sona-Bata, Congo: François Luambo, who within 16 years became a phenomenon in Congolese music and whose 'stagename' Franco even today, nearly 21 years after his death, is inextricably linked to modern Congolese music and African music in general.

As an ode to this grand master I would like to share with you this rare album, released in Côte D'Ivoire on the Disco Stock label.
I can assure you it is pure coincidence (ahum) that the album has an orange sleeve.....

The lp contains twelve tracks from the 1950s. Although the title of the lp is "Le bon vieux temps de l'O.K. Jazz" ("the good old days of the O.K. Jazz"), there is in fact one track which was recorded in the time before the foundation of the O.K. Jazz. "Elo Mama" (titled "Mama Elo" on this lp) was released in March 1956, i.e. three months before the birth of O.K. Jazz. Just nine months later the O.K. Jazz produced such miraculously brilliant tracks as "Venga De Priza" (called "Del Prison" on this lp). And again nine months later they gave birth to "Linga Ngai Tolinga Ye" (erroneously titled "Linga Ye To Oling Ngai" on this lp), a bolero which has occupied a steady position in the top of my favourite songs for nearly twenty years now, followed two months later by "Zonga Vonvon Melancolie" (mauled into "Mboka Yo Okeyi Mosika" here). Both tracks contributed to Franco's status as the real and undisputed sorcerer of the guitar, who was capable of touching emotional strings others had even never heard of.

The 'most recent' of these compositions, all by Franco himself by the way, is from January 1959, and is proof of the subtle maturation of Franco's guitar playing. "Mbongo Na Ngai Judas" ("Judas" has disappeared in the title on the lp), no doubt about the silverlings which Judas received for betraying Jesus, is actually the A-side of another out-of-this-world composition by Franco: "Ndokoyo" ("this sorcerer").

Some of these tracks were released (and generally in a better quality) on various lp's on the African label, but songs like the ones I mentioned more than amply make up for the redundancy of those.

DS 7950 or DS 7950

PS: I have added a list of the correct titles.

50 Years

Four days ago I had finally found some time to sit down (overcoming obstacles like the sweltering heat and family members claiming attention) and started writing this post when my computer without any kind of warning shut down and rebooted. After the initial stages of panic and uncontrolled swearing I discovered that another hard disk had committed suicide. Having just overcome the loss of a hard disk of exactly the same brand, type and size you can imagine that my trust in the Korean manufacturer of this hardware has come to an all-time low. I am still in the process in trying to recover the most essential files (and unfortunately in this case some irreplaceable audio...) from the disk.
Anyway, here is the post I was writing a few days ago.

It may have escaped your notice, but on June 30 it was exactly 50 years ago that Congo regained its independence. And in writing this I realise that this is a historic inaccuracy, as Congo never existed as a 'modern' state before King Leopold claimed it as his private property in the 1870s.
For the Congolese the late 1950s were a period of great expectations, and perhaps even greater promises. Musically the preparations for independence had started way back in the late 1940s, when the first recordings were made of 'native' artists. The development of a local music business in the 1950s coincided the rise of the 'évolués', i.e. the 'civilised native', who had been educated in the western ways by the Belgians colonisers.

Perhaps the best-known musical exponent of this new middle class was Joseph Kabasélé, who later became known as Le Grand Kallé. Educated by the Belgians missionaries and having set his first steps on the musical path as a choirboy, Kabasélé had ambitions to become the Congolese equivalent of a French chansonnier. In 1951 Kabasélé started hanging out at the Opika studio of the Lebanese Benetar brothers. And as he was consider something of an intellectual, having had slightly more schooling than the average pre-independence Congolese, and as he had the good looks to attract a female audience, he was soon invited to join the then leading performers of the Opika label as a singer. After some hesitant songs with Georges Doula (which I will post later), Kabasélé soon gained confidence and started delivering some of the hits which soon made him the star of the Opika label, and would lay the foundation for the African Jazz school* of Congolese music.
It is hard to pinpoint the date when the band African Jazz was founded. Some sources say that the name was used as early as 1952. Others link the name to the recordings in which Belgian sax player Fud Candrix played with the Opika musicians, including a session with Kabasélé which definitely put the turbo on Kallé's career (subject of a future post). Alternatively the foundation is linked to the recording of the song "African Jazz", - which happens to be on the lp I would like to share with you in this post.

The lp is a collection of songs from the 1950s and early 1960s, with five tracks originally recorded for the Opika label (a6 and b1 to b4) and seven recorded for the Esengo label. One of the Esengo tracks may seem out of place, not only because it doesn't feature African Jazz or Kabasélé, but also because it is sung by Rossignol (accompanied by Rock-a-Mambo), who was an exponent of the O.K. Jazz school. But Rossignol had moved to Esengo when it was founded on January 1, 1957, and recordings were made in various 'line-ups'.

You may recognise the track "African Jazz" from the 'exotic' East-German record I posted earlier.
The version of "Kay Kay" ("Kai Kai" on the sleeve), 'borrowed' by Nico** from the Cuban classic "La Galletana" (which I suspect was originally recorded by Orquesta America del 55' in 1957), is the oldest version. It was later re-recorded for the Surboum African Jazz label.
I think two of the Opika tracks, "Kele" and "Napekisi Yo Mo Nalingi Yo", are with Fud Candrix on sax, and two are clearly (he is named!) with the Rhodesian sax player Isaac Musekiwa, who had been dug up from (then) Elisabethville (Lubumbashi) to replace Candrix. In the fifth track another Belgian can be heard: Gilbert Warnant, a radio journalist, who helped out the Benetar brothers not only as a talent scout, but also as a Solovox (organ) player.

All in all this is a great collection, with a fine overview of Kallé's work in the 1950s and early 1960s. All tracks are great, but some are perhaps even greater. Charles Kibongue's "Ngai Mpe Elombe" is one of these, with its driving rhythm and almost manic guitar playing. And "Ba Nzambe" ("God's people"), with its dense orchestration. And "Napekisi Yo Mo Nalingi Yo" is one of these songs that has been sung to me by several Congolese when they - often with great nostalgia - recalled le bon vieux temps of the early African Jazz......

AJM 005

* Franco once described the difference between his O.K. Jazz school and the African Jazz school as "a matter of influences": the African Jazz school has tended to incorporate more foreign (French, latin) influences, while the O.K. Jazz has predominantly been inspired by Congolese sources.
** and which was once - with considerable pride - named as Nico's greatest composition by a man who claimed to be Nico's nephew.

Vedette

You may remember Wande Kouyaté from an earlier post on this blog, but I doubt you would guess this is the same artist just by listening to the music. While the cassette I posted earlier had a lusciously rich and 'live' ambience, the sound on this cassette is bone dry. This is partly due to the accompagnement by none other than the legendary Vieux Lion himself, Bazoumanaba Sissoko.

Wande Kouyaté, like many of Mali's divas, saw her career lift off through her involvement with the Ensemble Instrumental National. In this she followed in the footsteps of her mother Bah Tounkara, who was a member of the very first Ensemble.
But it is safe to say that Wande is not one of the most popular djeli's in Mali. When I bought this cassette in the 1980s some Malians praised her for her pure interpretation of traditional classics, while others argued she was too intellectual (or even intellectualistic) to be loved by the masses, and her repertoire tended to be conservative or even dogmatic (if this is possible in music). I am not sure what 'won her over', but it is clear that she modernised her style sometime during the 1990s, - although she managed to keep the ngoni in.

I don't have a reliable discography (or cassettography) of her work, but I think this must be one of her very first cassettes. These recordings were originally released on Sacodis LS 33 (presumably in 1980), and the tell-tale vinyl scratches and noises* seem to indicate that this cassette is a bootleg ripped from the Sacodis lp.
All the tracks feature only Wande with Bazoumana on ngoni. Highlights to me are the brilliantly pentatonic "Ne Ya Me", "Mali Nieman" and - of course - "Bakari Dian", the epic story about that historic hero from Segou, Bakari Dian Koné.
These are bambara traditionals in their purest form. Bazoumana's ngoni evokes a world far from Parisian studios and hi-tech recording gear. A world of dry sun and good friendly folk. The only drawback is that after listening to this cassette I find myself mysteriously covered in red Malian dust....

ASF 322 cassette

From a later date, but still from the 1980s, here is a video of Wande Kouyaté recorded by Malian television. Unfortunately no Bazoumana, but still a very nice version of a song which is also on the cassette I posted earlier: "Niame". You may be tempted to think "Ne Ya Me" is the same song, but this is clearly not the case. Note the remarkable change in pace set in after 5'40. Being a true vedette of Malian music Wande leads the ensemble....


*including traces of reversed vocals which I can only attribute to an error in the alignment of the recording head when they made the 'mastertape' for this cassette.