One of the most shocking things for me about traveling in Africa and what little I've seen of the diaspora, is the yawning gap between the high level of musicianship and the low availability of modern instruments such as guitars, keyboards, horns, and trap drums--not to mention microphones, PA and recording gear. It's appalling to see a gifted young guitarist in Bamako or Kinshasa making real music on a cobbled together home-made or jimmy-rigged instrument. Inevitably, I find myself pondering all the My-First-Electric-Guitars moldering away in closets and attics all over America. The availability and preponderance of high-quality electronic music gear in this country represents a fantastic national achievement and something to be proud of, but let's share the wealth a little, especially with fabulous young musicians struggling to make sense out of life in the land that gave us so much of the music we live and breathe for!

The resourcefulness of young musicians in Africa is nothing short of astounding. One of my most vivid memories is attending a rehearsal for a young Kinshasa band called As Noir Selection in then-Zaire in 1987. These guys could play, write music, sing, and dance wonderfully, but they were using beat-up, locally made instruments. The bass player had to stand facing the wall in order to hear himself. And the drummer used a chair with a bunch of straw for a hi-hat, a fan grill for a ride cymbal, and his bare foot on the mud floor for a bass drum!

A big part of the problem is local governments. Few African countries in recent times have shown a glimmer of the brilliance that led early West African leaders like Modibo Keita in Mali and Sekou Toure in Guinea to fund regional and national bands. Say what you want about these men's shortcomings, or even crimes. They recognized the power of music both as a motivating and unifying force in a young nation, and as a public expression to the world. Today, it is clear that music could be a revenue source for many of these countries. Tally up all the economic activity generated by Youssou N'Dour's studios and club in Dakar and my guess is it would be a sizeable figure over the past 10 years.

Still, many African governments consider musical instruments to be "luxury" items, and tax them mercilessly. As a result, few in these countries can afford to import, sell, or manufacture instruments, and generation after generation of gifted musicians have to make do, or do without all together.

But I don't just want to complain about this problem. I want to point out that it presents an opportunity. We tend to think of lending a helping hand to the under developed world as a matter of sending food, medicine, or some form of survival-oriented technical assistance. But an organization dedicated to developing music professionalism and a music industry in African diaspora locations would nurture not only the bodies, but the souls of these societies. Working with the right local authorities or activists, such an enterprise might well negotiate exclusion from these onerous taxes and open the way for the next generation of Afropop stars to work with proper instruments and in an environment where they can envision real careers in music.

So reach under the bed and get out that old Telecaster you never play. Open it up and have a look at its pristine fingerboard. Now imagine it in the hands of the next Ali Farka Toure in some dusty village in Northern Mali. Don't you wish there was a way you could make that happen? There could be, and I for one would be proud to help. So if anyone out there in the Afropop community knows any brass at Fender, Gibson, Yamaha, Peavy, Roland or any of a hundred other manufacturers of fine musical equipment, whisper in their ear sometime. And if you get a whisper back, or you have an ideas about how to get instruments into the hands of young Afropop musicians, get in touch. This could be the most rockin' gesture of international good will in history! Banning Eyre banningeyre@compuserve.com