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

Perfect imperfection

I won't kid you: the late Laba Sosseh (he died nearly three years ago) was not the best singer of the latin-tinged repertoire. There were and are others, with better voices, a better pronounciation of spanish, a more latin feel. I remember an album he did in the late 1970s together with Monguito; Laba got vocally plastered by Monguito...

But personally I don't care. I love Laba Sosseh for his imperfection, the way in which he did not betray his roots in an attempt to be a real latin sonero, - in short: for remaining Laba Sosseh.

The album in this post is not his best. Others (like the one I posted earlier) are more likely to be awarded this label. It's also not his steamiest (this award might go to this cassette). And I am not even going to discuss the sorry state of the vinyl.

Nevertheless, it's authentic Sosseh. Recorded in 1977 for Abou Lassisi's Sacodis label, the lp features Laba accompanied by the 'Special' Liwanza Band. I am not too sure why they are special, - perhaps for the lack of horns (or even a tiny sax). But in their own uncomplicated way they are certainly not bad.

With yet two more versions of the Cuban evergreens "Guantanamera" and "El Manicero" (hooray!), a mumbled "Ay Que No", "Prepare Candela" (but I have no idea what he wants us to do after lighting the stove...), "El Guaguanco" (which I am sure he has at one point also combined with "El Manicero"): it's all great.
My favourites are the two last tracks of both sides. But can anyone explain what the title "No Quiero El Son" has to do with the song? I can understand that he would want to shut up to avoid a quarrel with a girlfriend, but Laba Sosseh not liking son...?
To me the top track of this album is "Conjura". It's got it all: great rhythm, nice instrumental bit, uncomprehensible lyrics, an intriguing title, plus Laba Sosseh: perfect!

Sacodis LS 5-77

Super Volta Jazz

When it comes to the music of Burkina Faso I am still very much in the process of discovering and learning. I was aware that infrastructurally Haute-Volta (Upper Volta) was a barren land, with no recording studios and no facilities for pressing records. Only in the 1980s, when Haute-Volta became Burkina Faso, a modest form of recording became possible. I was under the impression that this meant that most Voltaique bands went to Abidjan, Côte D'Ivoire, to record, but I recently read that bands of the Club Voltaique Du Disque (CVD) label travelled to the city of Kumasi in Ghana, - which was probably closer than Abidjan and had the added attraction of a cheaper studio.

I had been lead to believe that orchestras in the Upper Volta of the 1960s and 1970s went without the benefits of a strong cultural (state) policy (as for example in Guinea and Mali) and that financial support of artists and/or bands by the state or public institutions was unheard of. But I recently learned that the Super Volta orchestra was actually founded with sponsorship from Maurice Yaméogo, the first president of Haute-Volta. Or actually I think it was the Typic Band. This band was founded in 1964 or 1965 by a certain Zinsi Ouédraogo, who in 1966 renamed it to Super Volta de la Capitale. Before getting overthrown in a military coup and resigning (on January 3, 1966) Yaméogo provided the Typic Band with the best equipment (his or the government's?) money could buy, thus giving them a rather unique position within Voltaique music, where most orchestras used the equipment provided by the patrons of the bars where they were allowed to play (for a 'competitive' fee). Subsequently Super Volta became the leading band of the CVD label.

I still hope to learn more about this CVD label. It seems to me that some rather smart people have been in charge of this label, judging not only by the great music they have produced, but also by the fact that they managed to survive at all as a label within Haute-Volta.
And talking about great music: the greatest of all the CVD artists was - in my opinion - Traoré Amadou better known as Amadou Ballaké. Florent Mazzoleni, who recently sent me some photos of Ballaké reposing 'chez lui', has sent me another single of this master, recorded for and by the CVD label (so probably in Kumasi, Ghana!). The vinyl quality is perhaps far from optimal, but to a fan (like me) any Ballaké is highly appreciated....

"El Hadji Fasano", on the A-side, opens like a praise song. Ballaké, singing in Dioula, appears to be greeting 'Baba' Fasano. But then in the second line the El Hadji (indicating that the man has done his duty as a muslim and has been on a pilgrimage to Mecca) is linked in one breath to a strong alcoholic beverage! What does it mean? Is the El Hadji a renowned militant in the struggle against alcohol abuse? Or a local producer of moonshine?
And is it me, or is Ballaké citing from Bembeya's "Djamana bara Sabati"? And is the start borrowed from "Loi Cadré"?
So much still to discover......

The B-side again calls up memories of Guinean classics, with hints of "Wara" by Nimba Jazz. There are some lovely bits by Mangue Kondé on lead guitar, and - of course - solid vocals by Ballaké.

Club Voltaique du Disque CVD 53

Volta Jazz, from Bobo-Dioulasso, was founded at around the same time as Super Volta by Idrissa Koné. I suspect that they may have been inspired by a visit of Franco's O.K. Jazz in 1963, or perhaps by Les Bantous, who also toured West Africa in the early 1960s. Although it is hard to find any information about this orchestra I have heard reports that they toured neighbouring countries in the early 1970s. In the mid-1970s they appeared to fade away, but they mysteriously resurfaced in 1977 with a series of releases on the Disques France-Afrique label, two of which I would like to share with you in this post. They also managed (through this Abidjan-based french label?) to get some records released on Sonafric, and I may be tempted to post their lp on that label at a later date.

The first of the two singles contains two rather up-tempo tunes, with what resembles the Voltaique version of a Congolese rumba on the one side ("Tjee Gouana") and a rhythm which might be called a pachanga on the other ("Sankoura"). It seems hard to believe these tracks are from 1977; in all aspects the style seems more 1960s.

Disques France-Afrique LGVD 1.102

The same goes for the two songs on the other single. The rumba "N'Ti Toubabou Kanme" on the A-side appears to be about a conflict with the police. And before you assume that I have a more than very superficial knowledge of dioula or bambara: there is a bit of french in the song after 1'53 when the hero of this song is being addressed by a police officer. What the 'toubabou' (white person) has to do with it, I can only guess.
"Djougou Malola" is the odd one out of these four tracks, as it reminds me not of the music of the two Congo's, but of those wonderful ballads of the early Guinean bands like Orchestre de la Pailotte, Orchestre du Jardin de Guinée and Kebendo Jazz. A lovely well-dosed horn section, great guitar tottering about in the background, nicely proportioned solos: what a delight!! I could do with more of this......

Disques France-Afrique LGVD 1.110

The three singles can also be found here, bundled into one download.

P.S.: Graeme Counsel has added a discography of the CVD label to the (many) discographies on his site.

EDIT August 18, 2010: Scott Arnold was kind enough to put in some effort to clean up the Ballaké, making sure he didn't (unlike the very unfortunate Ouaga Affair CD) ruin the music. You can download the cleaned-up tracks here (sleeve etc. included). Muchas gracias, Scott!!

EDIT October 23, 2015: The front cover of LGVD 1.102 has been added.