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.

UPDATE October 18,2026: I found the sleeve on Discogs:

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 (this blog is no longer active and appears to have been removed). 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 could be found on the Freedomblues blog when it was still active):

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.

Polydor POLP 056


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