This release adds a crucial and surprising piece to the jigsaw puzzle of the classic Afropop story.Angola stands out in African history for its Portuguese (rather than French, Belgian or British) colonial experience, also for the relatively late date of its independence (1975), and the years of brutal fighting that preceded that achievement.During Angola’s years of struggle, neighboring Congo was producing the continent’s most influential dance music.But Congo had achieved independence in 1960, and was emerging as a highly authoritarian state, one in which singers would rarely deign to address political concerns in any direct or obvious way.Angolan bands had their own take on Caribbean-tinged African rhythms, electric guitar interplay, and creative vocal arranging.However, they worked in an environment where political engagement was not only possible, but in great demand from a large sector of the public.
As a result, these songs from Carlos Lamartine, one of the dominant figures in Angola’s pre-independence music, are rife with political messages and aspirations.“Etu Tuana N’Gola Tua Solo Kia” plays as a kind of 70s pop rumba ditty, but it is a praise song to the MPLA in its militant fight to end Portuguese colonial rule.The smoldering ballad “Guia para a Libertação de Africa (Guide for the liberation of Africa)” is still more incendiary.And “Acorda Lumumba (Remember Lumumba)” dares to reach across the Congo border and do what no Congolese singer could hope to—openly chant down the rising regime of Mobutu Sese Seko.This combination of smooth, Afro-Latin rhythms, melodious vocal harmony and playfully masterful guitar work with openly defiant political messages makes a remarkable counterpoint to the polished but socially oblivious music emanating from Kinshasa at the same time.
The style Lamartine and his contemporaries were developing is called semba, described in the release notes for
Histórias as “a typically Angolan genre rooted in traditional carnival rhythms, such as kilapanga, rebita, kazukuta and kabetula.”Semba emerged from some of the same origins as Brazilian samba—no surprise since many of Brazil’s African “immigrants” came from Angola.But neither genre can be said to have influenced the other; it’s more of a twins-separated-at-birth scenario.Of course, while the world has been deluged with samba music, Angola’s semba has mostly languished in obscurity.That has a lot to due with the troubled history Angola has known since 1975.Wracked by ongoing civil conflicts, the country lacked the infrastructure to project culture beyond its borders, or even to sustain it in large cities.To the extent that the country did produce new music in the late 20th century, it largely departed from the guitar band semba sound.For all these reasons, this compilation offers a welcome entrée into hidden musical history.
Lamartine’s singing voice is strong and clear, less gruff than Franco’s, and less silky smooth than Tabu Ley’s, but very compelling in its weathered way.The shuffling rhythms in upbeat songs like “N’Gana, N’Gana,” “Vengi Bualaié (There is no work),” and “Bassoka” (Bazooka—a rhythm celebrating rebel military victories) are reminiscent of contemporary Central African pop, but distinct in their cadences.There are quite a few minor keys and mournful melodies in these 20 songs, no doubt reflecting the difficult emotional tenor of life during protracted warfare.Throughout, the electric guitar work is lively and inventive.
Three decades on, Angola is emerging as a musical force in the world with a very different sound, kuduro, a ferociously rhythmic blend of techno, rap, and the sounds, stories, and beats of street life in Luanda.For an undiluted, inside tour of current kuduro hits in Angola, check out the new compilation Akwaaba Sem Transporte.
