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July's Afropop Madness! (2002)
July's Afropop Madness
Text and photos by Banning Eyre.
For anyone dedicated to seeing live African pop music concerts, July is a month guaranteed to keep you on the move. This summer, an amazing array of artists from Mali, Madagascar, South Africa, Angola, Zimbabwe, Nigeria, Morocco and elsewhere are crisscrossing the country, and although it is humanly impossible to catch them all, it's well worth a try. Here are some Seen-and-Heard scrapbook images and notes from just such an attempt between New York and Boston between July 12 and 16.
Mariza: Joe's Pub, July 12
I rolled into Manhattan with minutes to spare before Portuguese fado singer Mariza began her early set at Joe's Pub. Mariza was born in Mozambique and made reference during the performance to her "African grandmother." Mariza believes that Portuguese contact with Africa affected the development of fado, a song form that evolved in Lisbon's Mouaria neighborhood in the 19th century. She even sang a Cape Verdean morna describing it as "African fado."
Fados are passionate, direct and often melancholy, dealing with the pain of separation and foiled love. Backed only by fado's standard trio of string players--stand-up bass, classical guitar, and the delicate, 12-string Portutuese guitar--Mariza gave the most powerful presentation of the genre I've seen yet. Her group was impeccable, gifted at the hesitations and pregnant pauses that lend weight to the style's gentle swing, and forthright oom-pah rhythms. But from the moment the tall, slender, platinum-blonde singer unleashed her august voice, it was hard to pay attention to anything else. It's a voice that blooms with warmth and clarity, that bears down unflinchingly on heartbreak bringing you along on a bracing but irresistible emotional journey. Though still in her 20's, and with just one release on the market, Mariza is quite simply one of the most powerful singers on the world stage today.
She is also a delightful performer, delivering history and background with the enthusiasm and charm of a precocious school girl--a persona fascinatingly at odds with her devastatingly mature singing persona. After flubbing a few English words, she said, "My God! You know, I am blonde. It's hard. Really!" Mariza's musings about her "blonde imagination" drew affectionate laughter from the crowd, but the more lingering memory will surely be Mariza's musical evocation of old Lisbon, which her extraordinary voice and band made almost palpable. For her encore, Mariza told her musicians to leave their microphones and the group huddled for an unamplified number. The spirit of fado's long-dead matriarch Amália Rodrigues filled the room. These days, there's a wave of young fado singers emerging from Portugal. After seeing Mariza set at Joe's Pub, there's no doubt in my mind that she is the standard bearer in this new movement.
Celebrate Brooklyn Africa Festival: Prospect Park, July 13
A day of African acts in Brooklyn's Prospect Park has become a jewel in the crown of Celebrate Brooklyn's summer schedule. This year, a widely mixed, family friendly crowd began to gather on a perfect Saturday afternoon as Coco Sukali and her group rolled out sunny Congolese music. Wunmi of Nigeria followed with a crossover set featuring athletic dancing and stage antics. Then, with the chairs and lawns filling, and the tantalizing smell of barbeque everywhere, it was time for the stars.
Mali's Rokia Traore came first with her unique, six-piece band. Traore herself plays acoustic guitar and sings, filled out by unusual, sometimes jazzy vocal harmonies from two female backing singers. Otherwise, all the instruments in the group are ancient and traditional. There are large and small ngonis (spike lutes)--one player doubles on tama (small talking drum)--calabash percussion, and the huge, deep-toned balafon of Bélédugu, the last stronghold of the proud Bambara Empire, which survived until the eve of French colonial rule, just over a century ago.
Traore takes a decidedly modern approach to tradition. The daughter of a diplomat, she has lived in other parts of African and in Europe, and she has listened to a wide variety of music. For her group, she has picked instruments from different traditions, following her ear rather than any prescribed ethnic music formula to come up with a uniquely complimentary set of sounds. Nothing as obvious as electric guitars, keyboards or even trap drums highlights the modernity in her music, but it's definitely there in the group's rich sound scape, and in Traore's highly personal approach to composing vocal melodies and arranging chorus singers.
The diminutive, lanky, shaved-headed singer moved gracefully through her Brooklyn set, pacing herself through more serene, moody songs and building up to more driving, dance-oriented fare. Even at the quietest moments, she kept this party-hardy crowd right with her, a testimony to both the music and the public. Much of the material came from Traore's excellent 2000 album, Wanita (Indigo), but there were some new songs as well.
One of the new pieces seemed to take a page from the clubby remixes of Malian tradition popularized recently in work by Frederic Galliano and Issa Bagayogo. But in Traore's expansive composition, the relentless bass drum sound didn't come from a machine, but rather from the calabash player's fist dropping hard on the top of his humble instrument.
Up next, Morocco's Hassan Hakmoun has come a long way since he arrived in New York as a young, ambitious Gnawa musician in the late 1980s. Hakmoun grew up steeped in Gnawas' mysterious culture of musical trance healing, and he's always been a hypnotically soulful singer and player of the low-pitched, thrumming guimbri, essentially a larger version of the big ngoni featured in Traore's group.
Hakmoun first came to international attention with the group Zahar, which merged Gnawa roots with Hendrix-like electric guitar rock. For most of the last decade, he has tended toward more acoustic ensembles, sometimes performing alone, or with just his brother Said backing him on vocals and hand percussion. He also worked with a number of New York based jazz musicians, including the late Don Cherry.
Now, Hakmoun is returning to a pop formula, showcased on his diverse new album The Gift (Triloka). Hakmoun brought a full band to Brooklyn with bass, drums, lots of percussion, and forceful keyboard work from composer Jamished Sharifi. New dance pop tunes like "Syada Ana" came across well, frankly, better than they do on the album. Hakmoun danced and shimmied, dug into his guimbri, and sang wonderfully in his signature haunting wail.
For some, the set may have ventured a tad too far into rock histrionics, but for the most part, it was fresh and exciting, and it did leave room for soulful excursions into gnawa tradition. Hakmoun is a restless, ambitious creator with an expansive vision of his own musical possibilities. This show demonstrated that he may be at his best when he simply pulls out the stops and jams for a rowdy, willing public.
As darkness fell in Brooklyn, the prince of Nigerian afrobeat, Femi Kuti, took the stage with his powerhouse band, Postitive Force. Femi is known for shortening and sharpening the stylistic formulas of his legendary father, Fela Kuti, but on this occasion, he stretched songs out to near-Fela lengths, taking long solos on saxophone and electric piano, and allowing members of his horn section to solo before the singing began.
"Sorry, Sorry" and "Blackman Know Yourself," from Shoki Shoki (MCA 2000) came early. And the erotically charged "Beng, Beng, Beng" proved a crowd pleaser. Later in the set, the band delivered a very satisfying rendition of a Fela classic. The band's meaty textures and full-on energy fit the occasion well, and the stage show, featuring Femi in lively interaction with three, slender, face-painted female singer dancers also hit the spot to close out a long day of music.
Femi's tough talk about how the African man is "completely lost" probably sat less well with this Afro-file audience, but like his father, Femi has no interest in coddling illusions or being politically correct. Femi's hard-edged view of life is part of his appeal, but the total effect can be abrasive. This is the work of a hyper-energized angry young man, and unless you can ride the sonic waves of his righteous indignation, the aggressiveness of his act can prove overwhelming.
Just the same, the band was pumping strong and the show ended on an exhilarating note. With a welcome evening cool settling in, and bright light illuminating the green branches of the trees around the audience, it was a perfect end to a long summer's day of music.
Orchestra Baobab & Super Rail Band: Central Park Summerstage, July 14
The Central Park Summerstage debut of Mali's Super Rail Band and Senegal's Orchestra Baobab was an historic occasion all by itself, but it is also part of a phenomenon. As Afropop genres come of age, there is a growing desire to reconsider the great pioneering bands of the movement. Both of these bands formed in 1970, but then fell out of fashion in their home countries during the 1980s. Baobab actually disbanded in 1987. Now, thanks to the dedication of older fans and promoters abroad, Baobab with their incendiary African salsa, and the Rail Band with their vigorous Manding swing are tow of the most celebrated African acts on the world stage.
This is partly because the musicians still have the stuff that made them famous in the first place. Both acts made that entirely clear during this Sunday afternoon concert. But it's also because bands like this capture the spirit of a unique moment in African history: the dawn of independence. As dance bands steeped in Afro-Cuban music broadened to embrace ancient local traditions, they created singular and highly influential new sounds, the music of newborn nations.
From the moment the ten members of Orchestra Baobab took the stage, the audience was hooked. Their set drew from many areas of their busy 1970s and early 80s recording career, hitting most of the tunes featured on their upcoming album, Specialists in All Styles (World Circuit/Nonesuch), due out this fall. From the slow, smoldering Afro-Cuban lilt of songs like "El Son te Llama" to the swaggering seduction of the mid-tempo "Jinn Ma Jinn Ma" and the faster, mbalax-tinged pulse of "On Verra Ca," every groove hit the target. If the band sounded a tad rusty when Afropop heard them at the WOMEX conference last fall, the rust was all gone. In its place, polish, punch, and charm to spare.
Rudy Gomis of Guinea-Bissau smiled uncontrollably as he addressed the audience. The group's principle vocalist, Gomis takes the lead on the more salsa-oriented material, while Assane M'Boup and Pape Niang took on the high, floating Wolof melodies. The variety of styles and voices is truly winning, and although many of the pieces were rather slow and languorous, the rhythm section made everything pop. There was lots of engaging interplay among the players. Definitely the group's chief ham, tenor saxophonist Issa Cissoko wore a flowing black robe and a brightly colored floppy hat and played out emphatic arm gestures and comic facial expressions whenever he wasn't coaxing deep, clear notes from his horn. Guitarist Barthelemy Atisso of Togo also deserves mention for his sublime, stylish guitar solos. The phrasing of salsa and the wah-wahed boisterousness of psychedelic rock fit neatly side-by-side in this classy player's repertoire of styles. Orchestra Baobab's triumph was particularly inspiring as this is their first U.S. tour. (The next night, on my way out of New York, I caught them again, jammed onto the small stage at Joe's Pub. Elbow to elbow, they came on--if anything--even stronger. After the set, Gomis told me that he loved playing that way. It reminded him of the old days at Club Baobab in Dakar.)
Back to Central Park, the crowd was duly primed when the eight members of Mali's Super Rail Band took the stage. The Rail Band played at Lincoln Center last summer, to rave reviews. But playing outdoors, so that their big sound can fill the wide open spaces, and people can move around freely, is really where this band shines brightest. The Rail Band play like a great sound machine, powered by driving, fast guitar interplay and layered percussion, and topped by gale-force vocals from Samba Sissoko and Damory Kouyate.
The brightest star, as ever, is lead guitarist Djelimady Tounkara. Tounkara mostly refrained from prowling the stage, as he sometimes does. Instead, he just stood and beamed, all the while pouring out flawless streams of fat, perfect notes. (As his one-time student in Bamako, I had the privilege of sitting in on a song, and I experienced the rare joy of being part of the band's roaring sound machine. Nothing feels better than that!)
I may be biased where the Rail Band is concerned, but the roars of the Central Park crowd will back me up when I say, once again, that the Super Rail Band are high on the list of the tightest and most powerful bands in African pop today.
D'Gary and Rokia Traore: House of Blues, Boston, July 16
I'm also on record as saying that I consider the Super Rail Band's Djelimady Tounkara the greatest African guitarist. Of course, this sort of statement is subjective and always open to debate--even from the person who said it! In part, I give Djelimady the nod because he has such a broad range of styles. He is so flexible and quick on his feet that he can find a way to work what he does into many different contexts. I must say, though, that as I stood in the House of Blues in Boston two nights later watching Malagasy guitarist D'Gary and his crack, spare trio peeling out wildly original, traditionally based compositions, I felt the need to hedge with a new category--maybe, most "amazing" guitarist in Africa, or most "original" guitarist in Africa.
Whatever. The point is that an hour spent in the presence of D'Gary can change your life, especially if you play guitar. The man's mastery of rhythm is staggering. He sets up a groove only to slip away and take off to a whole new rhythmic plane, like a bird flying high above us with a mocking cry, and then dart effortless back to where he started. There's a kind mania to D'Gary's work that might make it hard to take were it not for his breathtaking tone and lyrical sense of melody. He played two guitars, a bright steel string guitar capable of clanging like a bell when he struck the high strings hard from below, and a mellower nylon-string electric guitar on which he could mute his notes to create dense vortex-like cycles of rhythm.
D'Gary's set was long and relentlessly packed with ideas, but he knew when to lay back and lull his weary listeners. His accompanists Mario and Rataza are both extraordinary singers and the vocal arranging in D'Gary's pieces is meticulous and beautiful, not to mention perfectly executed every time. Mario is also a brilliant percussionist, mostly playing a light shaker at improbably fast tempos. When D'Gary had to stop and retune mid song, Mario just kept chugging, changing his patterns subtly to earn whoops of approval from the crowd.
D'Gary was opening for Rokia Traore that night, and the Malian singer certainly had her work cut out for her. But she came through well, edging the crowd into her own rootsy rhythmic space and taking them willingly along on another kind of journey. By the end, the whole room was dancing, including the Malagasy musicians who stayed in the club right to the end of Traore's set.
And on It Goes…
A brief pit stop at home and I'm off again to see Thomas Mapfumo and the Blacks Unlimited at Club Helsinki in Great Barrington, MA, and then the Mahotella Queens, kora genius Mamadou Diabate and the Super Rail Band up at the Grassroots Festival in Trumansburg, New York. It's only July once a year! Most of the groups I've mentioned here are still touring and performing in the country. Check the Concerts section on our homepage to learn about concerts near you. Meanwhile, here are some additional images of July concerts in New York. These were taken by Afropop intern Heather Normandale.
Contributed by: Banning Eyre
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