Hardcore apala

Continuing the series of posts featuring the legacy of the late king of apala music, Alhadji Haruna Ishola, I have dug up a rare example of apala in its rawest form. This lp was recorded in the early 1970s, and not released on his own Star label, but by Phonodisk. Nevertheless* the sound is exceptional.

The first side starts with a rhythm resembling and with the regularity of the ticking of a clock. This not only sets off the 'smoothness' of the interplay between chorus and lead vocalist (the master himself), but also acts as a balance for the almost impetuous talking drum. There is some extensive messaging going on with that talking drum!
After 10'53 the song stops and, seamlessly, a second track commences. This is - in my opinion - the most remarkable track of a very singular album. In the minute before the talking drum resumes its subliminal chat session there is a sense of expectancy, of emptiness, which never ceases to surprise me, - even after having heard the lp uncountable times.

The B-side continues in the same vein, with the same minimalistic arrangment (compared to Haruna Ishola's recordings released on the Star label), but this time with a more jumpy rhythm. My wife - who in this time of the year can not resist going outside to sweep up the leaves (I watch her from behind the window) - commented that the percussion was just like her sweeping. I was tempted to reply that this sweeping is more effective, but was wise enough to keep my mouth shut...

Phonodisk PHA 24

*The studio he and I.K. Dairo started for their Star label was the first 24-track studio in Africa.

Wara

Let me begin by apologising: this is probably the worst cassette of the Horoya Band I have. The sound is somewhere between medium wave and shortwave radio, including some of the wave effects.

But the music...

The bootlegger responsible for this cassette, which was bought in Guinea in 1988, has made a few minor errors (nothing compared to what some of the 'reputable' European producers have conjured up) in writing down the titles, because the first track is clearly "Sasilon", which can be found on Discothèque 74 (SLP 48). But the title of the second track is not "Keme Bourema", but "Wara" (lion). And this is one of these rare tracks that will last you a lifetime. Even after over twenty years this brilliant interpretation of this malinké classic by this exceptional orchestra from Kankan still manages to grab me straight by the throat, right from that majestic beginning to the tragically sudden fade-out, after nearly twelve minutes of pure bliss. I particularly would like to draw your attention to the exemplary rhythm guitar playing.
And it doesn't stop there.

The B-side opens with another classic: "Baninde" (child of the Bani river). Another proof that the border between Guinea and Mali is not a cultural border, because this is a song from the repertoire of the griots of Kela, and more specifically a song generally associated with the legendary Siramori Diabaté. Judging by the fact Horoya also covered her "Kanimba", this can't be a coincidence.
You have to fill in the sound of the fantastic horn section from memory*, but this is certainly one of my favourite versions of "Baninde", and certainly more 'majestic' than the mid-tempo(but also great!) version by Les Messagers.

The second track, "Famadenke", is another malinké classic. The link to Sékou Touré is even more apparent in this song, as it is an ode to Samory Touré's son. This site (or English) not only gives an explanation of the song, but also a translation.

The last track again features on one of the Syliphone collections, in this case Discothèque 75 (SLP 49). Going by the overall sound I think all of the tracks of this cassettes are roughly from the same period (the mid-1970s). And this brings me to the main mystery behind this cassette: what happened to the three tracks (i.e. "Wara", "Baninde" and "Famadenke")? Why were these brilliant songs never released on the Syliphone label?

GD 7051 cassette

* for those with a sudden attack of memory loss, and those who have erroneously purchased the Syllart re-editions, here are "Sasilon" and "Artistes" from SLP 48 and SLP 49.

Anthologie, Tome 2

Lucie Eyenga, 1973

This post is more or less a 'sequel' to Nauma's post on his Freedomblues blog. I had hoped to post it a few days earlier, but lost quite a bit of time looking for a few extras.

Reading the aforementioned post I was reminded of an interview we had with Papa Noel in 1992, and especially the proud tone of his voice when he mentioned this anthology. He brought this up spontaneously after we had talked about his position within the T.P. O.K. Jazz 'in the shadow' of le Grand Maître... This small part of the interview can be found here.

I think it is a misconception, however, to talk about the stars from the time of - and including - Wendo as Papa Noel's "old friends". He was after all only 18 when he had his first (minor) hit with "Clara Badimwene", alongside the great Léon Bukasa. There must have been a difference, if not in age, at least in standing and fame.

Personally I have very mixed feelings about this collection. In the wider perspective of all the music of the world it is certainly an album which is close to the top. But within the narrower scope of Congolese music the top can not been seen from the level where these tracks are situated. And in a one-on-one comparison with the 1950's originals all of these tracks - in my opinion - fall short of the mark as mere watered-down copies of the fullblooded originals.

But please feel free to make up your own mind. Here is the second 'Tome' of the Anthology (the first can be found on the Freedomblues blog):

Anthology Tome 2

To illustrate my point about the falling short of the mark, I am adding five tracks by Lucie Eyenga, who in the wake of Mobutu's zairisation was renamed Eyenga Moseka.
All five of these tracks were re-recorded for the Anthologie. The enthousiasm and energy of these 1950's tracks is - again in my opinion - completely lost in the re-recorded versions of 1974. The most spectacular example of this is the brilliantly jumpy and joyful "Kamsoda", - which in the Anthology version never gets off the ground....

5 tracks by Lucie Eyenga

But I must add: I am a sucker for any song from 1950's Congo.

Heart

I apologise for my sudden absence for over 5 weeks. I have been on 'holiday' to Cuba, - although this trip has left me desperate for a real holiday. If you like, I will get back to you about the situation in Cuba in a later post.

There are a few general remarks I would like to make about some of the comments on earlier posts:
1. Please refrain from any linking (in name or otherwise) in your comments to commercial sites of any kind. These comments will be removed and labelled as spam.
2. It is possible that some of the older links have expired. Please don't hesitate to let me know! I will repost these albums and add links in the original posts.

I am still not back to my normal routine, but - as an appetiser for things to come - I would like to share a rare and in many aspects wondrous album with you. It is a collection of tracks composed by Lutumba Ndomanueno Simaro. I haven't seen this cd anywhere since the day I bought it, so I am assuming it is out of print, and that's a great pity!

The first four tracks are in my opinion the least interesting. These tracks were originally released as African Sun Music ASM 003 (lp), and are responsible for the somewhat misleading title of this cd.

After these four tracks are the two real gems of this collection: the stunning "Mi Amor" and "Lisana Ebandaki Na Kin". Two tracks that in all aspects demonstrate the delicate touch of the real master poet that Simaro was and (if I am well informed) still is. Such refinement, so much sentiment, such a joy for the heart!!
As if to sign the masterpiece, Simaro himself can be heard at the beginning of "Mi Amor". Whistled in the background of the ensuing discussion the tune can already be heard. The song taking off is like the opening of a book, and it is opened with a delicate elegance. The lead vocal, probably by Lukoki Diatho (see these posts), is as graceful and subtle as the composition itself.
I can only speculate about the content of the song. Judging by the few words I do understand, the lyrics are typical of Simaro's impressive oeuvre, asking questions, wondering why the world is the way it is and what is in store for us after this life.

"Lisana Ebandaki Na Kin" must be from the same session, with the same musicians from the T.P. O.K. Jazz (with others?). The exact setting, circumstances and participants are still unclear to me, and I am hoping someone reading this post can shed some light on these....
It ís clear, however, that the song "Lisana Ebandaki Na Kin" is about musical heroes of the 1950s like Jhimmy, Dechaud and Camille Feruzi.

The other tracks of this collection (all featuring the O.K. Jazz) appear to have been selected randomly. "Dit Laurence" was released earlier on Pathé 2C 150 15973/74 and on Sonodisc CD 36554, as was "Gege Yoka" ("G.G." on Sonodisc). "Ti Tokabwana Nakoma Ndoki", with Franco singing the lead vocal, seems somewhat out of place, but this feeling is even stronger with "Gina Bondela Famille". Going by the somewhat thin guitar sound I think I could even be persuaded that this song is not by the O.K. Jazz, although the guitarist does have a tendency to linger on, and the chords are struck with some force, - both signs that Franco may be the one holding the instrument.
It is an even greater mystery why the last track is faded out after only a minute and eleven seconds.

As I wrote: this is just an appetiser. I hope to get back into the 'posting mode' a.s.a.p......

Clarys Music RMP 303498

Osadebe encore

There is always room for one more album by the consistent highlife king, Chief Stephen Osita Osadebe. This one, from 1981, has all the usual ingredients (see older posts, here, here, here and here): something about a social club, including the naming of all the board members, recited steadily by Osadebe, with sung interruptions, spacious spatial guitars occasionally shifting from left to right (and back), the evolution of rhythmic patterns, gradually leading to a trancelike state, a sense of well-being*, perhaps even extasy (try dancing...), followed by blissful satisfaction.
With this in mind it is easy to understand the Chief's smile on the back of the sleeve.

Added bonus on this album is the repetition on the B-side of one of my favourite tracks from his 1970s repertoire. You may remember "Onu Kwulunjo" from "Festac Explosion 77 Vol.2". On that lp the song only lasts 4'31; here it goes on for more than 14 minutes. On the downside I have to add that the sound quality of the earlier lp is significantly better, - and not only as a result of a better state of the vinyl.

Polydor POLP 056



* I was nearly tempted to write "wellness", but luckily managed to control myself... (phew)

911

Where was I when the planes hit the Twin Towers? I was sitting amongst the dignitaries, watching the opening of the first new style Semaine National des Arts et de la Culture (SNAC).



As Graeme Counsel, who was there with Daouda 'Flani' Sangaré and me, put it in his thesis: "The festival commenced with a grand opening ceremony held on Avenue de l’Independence in front of an assembled crowd of dignitaries. Under a hot sun each region and district paraded along the avenue giving the audience a sample of what was in store for the competition proper. Most performers wore traditional costumes and were accompanied by a variety of ensembles performing both modern and traditional instruments. Dancers spun around, acrobats threw each other in the air, which throbbed with the sounds of each of the performance troupes. The soirée for the opening night was to be held by the region of Sikasso, the highlights of which were their orchestra and dance troupe, the latter performing with gourds covered in cowrie shells which supplied a perfect rhythmic accompaniment."

I can add little but some photos, plus a recording made of the 'chant solo' of the Troupe de Sikasso and the dance troup who performed with the cowrie covered gourds.
And the music of this chant solo is here, and the music of the dance troup can be found here.


I will post some more recordings from the 2001 SNAC later.

Sali & Alou

Some of you may recall my earlier post about the cassette "Formidable" by the great Sali Sidibé. I mentioned the denial by Alou Fané of his participation to that album. I have to add that I had heard rumours - of the usual 'radio trottoir' kind - of an 'involvement' between the two. And to add to the mystery, my question provoked not only a forceful denial, but also an argument between Alou and his friend and musical partner Daouda 'Flani' Sangaré, followed by a meaningful smile from Flani to me. Meaningful in the sense that I gathered it was probably wise to avoid pressing the issue.

I am happy to say that part of the mystery has been solved, through the aid of Michael from Switzerland, who was able to provide us with a copy of the lp which he has allowed me to share with you in this post. Presumably the second lp to be released on the "Disco Club de la Bagoué" label (the first one, featuring Alou and Flani, I have posted earlier), this album produces proof that Alou Fané has indeed played with Sali Sidibé! In fact, he is named on the sleeve as one of the two musicians accompanying Sali, - the other being guitarist Madou Traoré.

Alou Fané in 1986 [photo: Isabelle Vigier]

The album was released in 1980, which in my experience doesn't necessarily mean that it was recorded the same year (especially as the recordings were made by Boubacar Traoré at Radio Mali...). It does mean, however, that it is probably Sali Sidibé's very first album.

Alou once told me that when he went to Bamako (coming from a little village called Koungoba in the Sikasso region) at the age of 26 there were only three known kamalen n'goni players (including himself, but excluding Flani - who also played the kamalen n'goni). While Alou had been inspired primarily by the donso n'goni playing of a friend of his father, which he subsequently converted into an original kamalen n'goni style by integrating other local (mainly balafon) styles and rhythms, Sali's musical background, Alou told me, was with the sogonigou (or sogonikou), which is primarily a dance, with drums and a female chorus and a female solo singer (both Coumba Sidibé and - later - Oumou Sangaré also sang with these dances, by the way). Sali ended up with the Ensemble Instrumental National, while Alou joined the Ballet National, both as a musician and a dancer.

The combining of these two talents has resulted in a spectacular album. From the first notes of Alou's n'goni it is just bursting with energy and sheer power. And not just because of Alou's fantastic n'goni playing, but also by Sali's assertive vocal.

In the second track "Barry", a sad tale about a youngster who leaves his country in search of riches but only finds death, Alou can be heard vocally (after 1'22). How cruel is fate, given that Alou left for Europe, only to return to his own country to face death.....

I can not find any weakness in this album (except perhaps that it is only 22 minutes long). So I have no hesitation in stating that this is the best I have ever heard of Sali Sidibé!

Disco Club de la Bagoué F.T. 002

Noise

I don't know about you but I am in need of an energy boost. Here in the Netherlands the nation is on the verge of slipping into the doldrums, and I suspect it is pretty much the same where you live.

I have found over the years that in these situations it is best to draw inspiration from those musical classics of the Syliphone label. Personally I already get a good kick up the backside from reading the inspirational sleeve notes of Justin Morel Junior. Great reading! "Le souvenir c'est le ciment de l'amitié, le sel de l'amour qui ne veut oublier le passé. C'est le symbole de la fidelité" (loosely translated: "the remembrance is the cement of friendship, the salt of love that does not want to forget the past. It is the symbol of loyalty"). Wow!
Don't ask me what it means, but I already feel a lot better!

The music that goes with these scintillating sentences is even better!! This lp , titled "Mankan" (= noise) is the third on the Syliphone label by the 22 Band from Kankan, and in my opinion the best. This is quite an achievement, because the other two are brilliant. Right from the first notes of the first track there is a vitality, an energy.....

The A-side is dominated by the guitars and the frantic rhythm section. I don't know about the Unité and the Vigilance, cited in the second track "Lawosse" as being the national motto (or at least the motto of the J.R.D.A. youth movement), but on Action the 22 Band seem to be doing very well. "Tout explose de vie" ("Mankan"), "éclatement rythmique" ("Sin Kon Mina"): very true!

But the 22 Band have saved the best for the very last. The B-side is the 22 Band in its best form. With the horns which already impressed on SLP 67, with an organ surging and undulating through "Sekou N'Fa"... The bit where the organ comes back into focus after just over 3 minutes is one of those unforgettable highlights of Guinean music (and there are many!!).
The last track, "Série", is like a majestic final statement of this momentous album. I think Justin has captured it perfectly: "C'est la poésie chantée de l'amoureux heureux qui se perd consciemment dans ses vérités sentimentales. Une balade au gré de guitares cajoleuses et d'un chanteur romantique. Les souffleurs annoncent les grands moments de l'oeuvre". I am not sure what to think of the bit about the fondling guitars, but the romantic image of loosing oneself consciously in ones sentimental truths: yes, I can see that....

Syliphone SLP 68

Bossa nova

I can still get very worked up about the barefaced con-job the catholic church and its associates pulled on us when I was a young boy. In those days in the late 1950s and early 1960s we were led to believe that those poor lost souls in the Congo were running around butt naked and without a grain of rice to eat. Good little catholic boys and girls like myself were encouraged to save the aluminium tops of milk bottles, which would - in some mysterious way - help to put an end to the misery of these downtrodden children of God.
It took me almost a decade to find out that I had been the victim of a world-wide conspiracy! Instead of butt naked and starving, in the Congolese capital Léopoldville they were living it up, with bars and music on every corner, the latest fashion, and - come to think of it - all the modern comforts we enjoyed at the time. In those days it was getting fashionable for women to wear trousers (well at least lady trousers...). Ladies with slightly loose morals were seen wearing wigs (I still have a trauma over a wig one of my aunts used to wear). Folk with a bit of money could be seen driving around on a Mobylette (or little egg, as we used to call these motorbikes).

It is exactly about this world that Franco is singing in his song "Quatre Boutons". In fact, he names the Mobylette itself as a symbol of modern life in Léopoldville. Marie, the female subject of the song, has acquired this motorbike through the opening of four buttons. And the four buttons seem to be a reference to the garment this woman opened: a pair of trousers. In those days before the "Recours A L'Authenticité" of Mobutuism it was just as normal for a modern Congolese woman to wear trousers as it was for a progressive Dutch girl. The fact that she received the motorbike plus a wig from a married man, with the implication of sexual favours which had been performed as payment for these modernités caused quite a stir in the more conservative parts of post-colonial Congo (as I am sure it would have done in the Netherlands). Franco defended himself, as he did later with songs like "Paka Lowi", "Hélène" and "Jacky", by arguing that he was only singing about what was happening in daily life. Besides, he was continuing a theme which he started earlier, with tracks like "Ngai Marie Nzoto Ebeba".
"Quatre Boutons" was one of the songs that led Mobutu to appoint a censorship commission a year later....

"Quatre Boutons" is on the A-side of this record on the Pathé label, which get its EP status from the B-side. Of the two tracks on this side, "Didi" and "Jean-Jean", I don't know the story. But it seems likely that "Jean-Jean" is about Franco's friend and bodyguard, who judging by the stories told by contemporaries also acted as an intermediary in Franco's personal affairs. If you listen carefully you will hear his name mentioned in other songs.

You may have noticed that the (front) sleeve of this EP does not mention the O.K. Jazz, but instead refers to the artists as "Orchestre Franco". I remember one of the members of the O.K. Jazz talking about Franco's struggles with (especially French) record companies; if I remember correctly some records were released under this name to circumvent a clause in a contract with another record company. I have tried to recall who told me this, but so far have been unsuccessful. If anyone has more details, please let us know.

While the tracks on the first Pathé EP have been re-released on lp ("Quatre Boutons") and cd (all), those of the second have so far escaped reproduction - let alone digitisation. And that is a huge pity.

This extraordinary collection of marvels opens with Franco's interpretation of a bossa nova, and, as if this is not enough, it is a version of a song made famous by Charles Aznavour (see this great video from 1963) AND it is sung by a woman.
And that's where the mystery starts.

"Miss Bora"

Because who is this singer? It is clear that this is the same lady who sings "Mosika Okeyi Zonga Noki"(on Sonodisc CD 36553). But who is she?
Aboubacar Siddikh suspects she is Henriette Bora Uzima (or Boranzima, which is it?), but I have my doubts. Henriette, nicknamed "Miss Bora" by Rochereau, started off with the O.K. Jazz in 1963 but moved to Rochereau's African Fiesta in 1964 or 1965. I have never read or heard of her recording with the O.K. Jazz, and there is at least one recording of her with African Fiesta. Comparing the singer in this song, a version of the Cuban evergreen "Guantanamera", with the singer in the two O.K. Jazz songs I myself don't hear any similarities. I am including both "Guantanamera" and "Mosika Okeyi Zonga Noki" so you can judge for yourself. I am curious to know what you think.

Apart from the female lead the song is certainly noteworthy for Franco's lightfooted guitar flutterings. But musically it is blown away (in my opinion at least) by the second track on the A-side, "Ba Musicien Ba Mema Mgambo". To me any track with Kwamy is a treat. I think he is backed by Edo Nganga in this track. And I love this staccato singing, but it really takes off when Franco takes control after 1'44. If you liked "Dr. Klerruu" by Mbaraka Mwinshehe: here's where he got the inspiration!!

The B-side opens with a kind of Hank Marvin guitar, but soon switches into a real Franco style bolero, with both Vicky Longomba and Kwamy alternately taking the lead. I can never get enough of these boleros, but I am slightly (only slightly though) disappointed by the lack of 'intervention' by Franco.....
After "Jose Maria" there is another song in the typical rumba style of the mid-1960s O.K. Jazz. "Trouble Trouble" features Vicky singing the lead and again ends (after 2'00) with Franco demonstrating yet another technique in his guitar playing.
The only problem I have with this EP is that the music ends after only 13 minutes....

Pathé EG 926
Pathé EG 930
Guantanamera/Mosika Okeyi Zonga Noki

Alternatively you can download all the songs in one file.

P.S.: the photo on the front of the Pathé EG 926 sleeve (by Gilles Sala, as is the photo on the front of EG 930!) appears to be of the mosque in Bamako. A rather strange choice, considering the songs...

UPDATE March 11, 2014: I have found an alternative version of "Je T'Attends" which appears to credit the singer: see the label on the right.
And Marcelle Bibi is more than likely Marcelle Ebibi, who was a singer at CEFA. She sung with Bill Alexandre, who introduced the electric guitar into Congolese music in the mid-1950s. Readers of Gary Stewart's "Rumba On The River" may remember this photo of her and a very colonial looking Bill Alexandre (in shorts).

Challenges

I have - again - been hit by a sudden interruption of service on the part of the network provider. The problem appears to have been solved, so I hope to get back to posting tomorrow.

These challenges are slowly getting the better of me and are increasing my desire to be off and away. But I still have four weeks to go until I can do that....

Anyway, I will see what I can do to compensate for time lost.

As an appetizer here is a single by Orchestre Poly-Rythmo. I especially like the B-side: a version of "Que No Muera El Son", another multi-covered Cuban classic. I am not sure, but I think it was first performed by Cheo Marquetti. The song was also covered by Franco in the 1960s. I just love these mumbled gobbledygook-hispano tracks...

Polydisco PD.03