Africa's true anthem?

I realize that it's been out for a while now but I heard Shakira's World Cup song "Waka Waka (This Time for Africa)" for the first time just the other day when she performed it at the kick-off concert.



While I usually like Shakira, I found this song to be pretty bland. But then again, that's probably exactly what you want from a would-be international anthem of this sort: enough of a catchy melody to stick in the world's collective memory but ultimately featureless enough that people of all nationalities, colors and creeds can project themselves into it.

What I found interesting about it was that the catchy part was an adaptation of a makossa song I remembered well from my youth: "Zangalewa," by the perennial Cameroonian national band, The Golden Sounds:



(The part Shakira bites occurs at 7:33, by the way)

I really didn't know anything about The Golden Sounds when the song was first released in 1986--I'm not sure I even realized they were Cameroonian at the time. (What I really remember is the video activating my long-running interest in the history of minstrel-style comedy in Africa.) I didn't understand the Fang lyrics, so I had no idea they were singing about rowdy army recruits in colonial-era Cameroons and I don't think most Nigerian kids did either as they sang that zamina mina refrain as a stepping cadence during school march-past exhibitions and sporting events.

We definitely didn't know the extent to which the song had become a sensation all across the continent and even beyond, as it quickly became something of a standard on the champeta circuit and other African music-influenced scenes in Shakira's native Colombia. In 1988, it became a merengue hit when the all-female Las Chicas del Can from the Dominican Republic revamped it as "El Negro No Puede":



Las Chicas' "El Negro No Puede" seems to have directly inspired 1989's "El Negro No Puede (Waka Waka)" by the Dutch-Surinamese group Trafassi



and then you have the version by Dutch-Surinamese Beatmachine (featuring Trafassi's Edgar "Bugru" Burgos)



But while "Zangalewa" continues to exert its influence across South America, it's far from forgotten back home in Africa, as demonstrated by "Zamouna" from 2008, by Didier Awadi of the pioneering Senegalese hip-hop group Positive Black Soul:



Of course, I am far from the first to break the story behind "Waka Waka"; in fact, since Shakira's record dropped there's been a mini-Wimoweh-style shitstorm surrounding the song and the credit/royalties owed to the Golden Sounds. Apparently, steps are being taken to compensate the Sounds and the publicity has spurred the band (who disbanded, I think, in the early 2000s) to start contemplating a comeback. This is particularly good news to me, because underneath the buffoonery they were a pretty wicked performing outfit, as seen here in this snippet from their set at FESTAC '77 in Lagos:



What the whole "Waka Waka" story really leaves me thinking about, though, is the possibility that "Zangalewa" could be the most influential modern pop song from Africa, and more so than the oft-cited "Sweet Mother", it might be the true anthem of Africa. Which makes it all the more fitting that Shakira evoked it for this momentous event of the World Cup holding in Africa, doesn't it?

Yep... This time's for Africa!

Journey to Luna

The photo above was grabbed from this video of Fela Ransome-Kuti performing at the famous Luna Nite Club in Calabar in 1971. I don't think I ever went to Luna; I was still in primary school during the club's glory days and even when I came of age, it wasn't really the kind of establishment I would frequent. For one thing, it was located in a slightly unsavory neck of the woods: the "Old Calabar" precinct that is now known as "Calabar South" and is today--as it was then--legendary for its rough characters. Among my middle-class stratum, we sometimes called this area "Target," a synecdoche referring to Target Street, one of the more rugged byways in that quarter of town. ("Target" was also an allusion to what an interloper might as well have his back wandering around that neighborhood after dark.) If someone owed you money or was messing with you, commissioning some thugs from "Target" to help you settle the score usually got the message across that you meant business.

Calabar had a spectrum of nightspots, with Paradise City on Atekong Drive representing the more upscale end and something like Hotel de Moon Rock on Mount Zion Road as the seedier extreme, but Luna was somewhere in the middle: a pleasure pit where you could relax, drink your Star or your Gulder and maybe enjoy some bushmeat--be it the kind that's bound with twine, soaked in tangy sauce and served with roasted plantains, or the variety that you might take back to one of the "chalets" behind the club that could be rented for a 30-minute "short-time" term ("bushmeat" being the local slang for a young woman who is relatively unsophisticated culturally and thus, is presumed to be reasonably available sexually).

If it was dancing you liked to dance, though, the big draw at Luna might have been the Anansa President, Bustic Kingsley Bassey, whose band was resident at the club for years.

Bustic (or Burstic, same pronunciation) was a local legend but never made much of a splash on a national level. Truthfully, he was a bit of a journeyman. While he undoubtedly delivered rousing shows on the Luna stage, I don't think he ever really developed a distinctive sound of his own. The records I have heard from the late 1960s and very early 70s, for instance, capture Bustic performing in a style very reminiscent of Rex Lawson's "New Calabar" danceband highlife.

Commissioner Burstic Kingsley Bassey and His Professional Pioneer Dance Band of Nigeria - "Ntinke Iko Edem"

It would seem, though, that Fela's Luna performance left a significant impression on Bustic because shortly thereafter, he started calling himself the Chief Engineer and plying a heavily Fela-influenced afrobeat style, even mimicking the nuances of the Chief Priest's laid-back, delirious vocal style.

The two tracks below are from the 1975 LP Gossip, when Bustic was still in his deep Fela phase.

Bustic Kingsley Bassey's Anansa Engineers - "Journey to Luna"
Bustic Kingsley Bassey's Anansa Engineers - "Allow Me Talk My Own"

"Made in Nigeria" Part 8 up on Boogieheads! in heah!

If you subscribe to the Boogieheads Show (and if not, why not?) then you probably heard this about three weeks ago, but Obafunkie has been having a little difficulty updating www.Boogieheads.com so November's show is still up over there.

Until things get ironed out, you can check out the last episode HERE.

(Apologize again for the crap production--your boy is still getting the hang of this podcasting business and I hadn't yet upgraded my kit back in November when I recorded this.)


To schedule automatic downloads of the Boogieheads Show, paste http://www.boogieheads.com/podcasts/boogieheadspodcasts.xml into your iTunes or other aggregator software.

"Made in Nigeria" Part 6 is up on Boogieheads Radio!

Yes, I stay bigging up Boogieheads because it's one of my favorite podcasts and Obafunkie jR is a really cool dude to boot.

I just started listening to the latest show, which is chock full with that gritty, hard as shit 1970s funk and afrobeat for those of you who find the 80s boogie a bit too rich to digest. So far, so funky... I'm grooving to some of that early, deeply soulful Christiana Essien right now. I notice we got some Tee Mac coming up, and also Founders 15.

Check it out, y'all.

The son also rises: Femi Kuti goes global

Previously, I expressed befuddlement at Island Records' decision--when looking for a new Third World Superstar in the 1980s to replace the late Bob Marley--to sign the relatively temperate King Sunny Ade rather than the sexier, more extreme, more rock & roll Fela. Really though, you can't blame them that much: As those who have lived and worked with Fela will testify, the same fire-veined, volatile personality that made him such an exhilarating presence both onstage and in the studio also rendered him a major pain in the nyash to manage or negotiate with. So it's understandable that the multinationals might choose to keep their distance from him and go with a more docile and pliable artist.

However, in one of his last interviews, Fela revealed to Keziah Jones that one major label had actually made a concerted effort to sign him in the early 1990s:

Motown came here some time ago to sign me up. In the first place the deal they were offering me was so ridiculous. These bastards came all the way from America to come and talk this shit? I said to people: “Look at this name ‘Motown.’ That word is Yoruba: mo-ta-ohun, it literally means ‘I sell my voice.’” [Laughter.] I said: “Anybody who goes with these people will be finished.” Then later Motown collapsed or the head was sacked or something like that. They had been found out! Yoruba is the secret of universal witchcraft. I was born here to understand that language, see?

After being turned down flat by Fela, Motown's emissaries were not about to leave Lagos emptyhanded, even if it meant settling for the next best thing. I'm assuming that's what happened anyway, because around that same period, Femi Anikulapo Kuti was signed to Motown subsidiary Tabu.

Before it was acquired by PolyGram and merged into Motown in 1993, Tabu had been an independent label best known for cutting-edge modern soul releases by 80s acts like Alexander O'Neal, Cherrelle, and The S.O.S. Band. Under Motown, it was being refashioned to serve mostly as a World Music™ boutique, with signings such as Lucky Dube and The Wailers Band. While Fela remained unobtainable, the addition of his son to the roster was a credibility-boosting coup for the new Tabu.

Femi wasn't exactly a Johnny-Just-Come himself, having cut his teeth as a saxman in his father's Egypt 80 organization in his teens and fronting his own Positive Force band since 1986. His 1989 debut, No Cause For Alarm? and the 1991 followup M.Y.O.B. had both enjoyed moderate success in Nigeria, but Femi remained shrouded by his old man's shadow. The public found him to be a nice enough lad, and a competent musician (possibly even more so than his father, as his fluid, circular-breathed sax lines sanded away Fela's characteristic discordant honks and squawks) but utterly lacking in the hard-headedness, the brio, the gra-gra that made Fela the patron saint of the sufferman. Needless to say, not too many people expected him to graduate to the world stage so soon... Not even Fela himself.

(As much as Fela may have later railed against Motown, Femi has reported that his father was at the time deeply impressed when he scored the Motown deal, and proudly trumpeted it to all and sundry as evidence of his own superior child-rearing technique.)

Unfortunately, the Motown contract was short-lived; as alluded to by Fela in the above quote, the record company was about to hit some hard times.

In 1995, Andre Harrell was appointed president and CEO of Motown. Harrell--who had revolutionized and reenergized the R&B genre in the late 80s and early 90s with his Uptown Records label and was expected to retool and refocus the legendary label for a new generation--ascended to the throne with an extended self-promotion campaign of astounding profligacy, but seemed unable to produce significant results. Perhaps he was lost without the two men who had helped him make Uptown a success--New Jack production whizkid Teddy Riley and a young, visionary intern named Sean "Puffy" Combs--but of the 30 new acts signed by Motown during Harrell's tenure, only a handful managed to release product. And they mostly sucked. (Remember Jason Weaver? Taral Hicks? That girl group Shades with that song "Tell me your name, what car do you drive, how much money do you make"? Of course you don't! And trust me: you are the lucky one!)

By 1997, with losses hitting the $100 million mark, Motown was forced to give Harrell the boot and prune the company, in the process scrapping subsidiaries such as MoJazz, Mad Sounds and yes, Tabu. The company did not exactly collapse as Fela described, but the bad publicity permanently tarred the label's reputation and ended its almost 40-year run of relevance.

Even though Motown crashed, Femi Kuti didn't. After Fela's death, Femi took over management of The Shrine, scored a massive hit with the saucy "Beng Beng Beng," landed a new deal with MCA and became a highly respected figure not just among fans of afrobeat and funk, but also in the realms of house, techno, hip-hop, and neo-soul.

In May 2000, he was honored as the Best-Selling African Artist at the World Music Awards in Monaco, where he also took the stage with his band. His rendition of "Beng Beng Beng" got the audience of international music stars and sundry stuffed shirts so hype, it reminded me of the reaction to Ricky Martin's performance of "La Copa de la Vida" at the 1998 Grammys, which led directly to the late-90s "Latin Explosion." If Femi had gotten a chance to play on an awards show that people actually watched, I have no doubt that afrobeat would have really blown up on a global level.

Yesterday, for the first time in maybe seven years, I listened to the one album Femi Kuti released with Motown and was surprised at how great it was. I'm tempted to say that it's his best album, in fact. (Of course, I'd have to listen to 1999's Shoki Shoki again just to be sure; I've not listened to it in a while either, but I remember most of it being fire.) It's interesting, in retrospect, to hear Femi making a run for greatness at a time when Fela was still alive; he sounds hungry, energetic, and most importantly, unladen by the weighty mantle that I feel has burdened his last two albums.

I saw him when he toured behind this album (on the Africa Fete revue with Baaba Maal, Oumou Sangare and... was Lucky Dube on that bill? I forget.); that was the first concert I ever went to in the States. I remember I got a promo cassette there that had a bonus non-album cut. I should have posted that, huh? Okay... I'll dig it up later.

FEMI KUTI - FEMI KUTI (Tabu, 1995)

Femi Anikulapo Kuti - Lead vocals, alto saxophone and solo, soprano saxophone and solo, baritone saxophone
Dele Sosimi - Background vocals, Yamaha DX7, Korg M1, keyboard solo on "Nawa"
Otolorin Laleye - Background vocals, trumpet and solo, flugelhorn solo, percussion
Gbenga Laleye - Background vocals, flugelhorn
Yinka Osindeinde - Background vocals, tenor saxophone and solo
Tiwalade Ogunlowo - Background vocals, trombone
Yemi Folarin - Alto saxophone
Gbenga Ofisesan - Percussion, conga solo
Efosa Igbineweka - Background vocals, rhythm guitar and solo
Obinna Ajuzigwe - Background vocals, bass guitar
Jude Amarikowa - Background vocals, drums and solo
Yeni Anikulapo Kuti - Vocals, tambourine
Sola Anikulapo Kuti - Vocals, clefs
Alaba Otomewo - Vocals, maracas
Funke Yusuf - Vocals
Josh Milan - Korg X1 solo

All songs written by Femi Kuti
All songs produced by Andy Lyden and Femi Anikulapo Kuti

Download the ZIP or get it track by track:

1. Wonder Wonder
2. Survival
3. Frustrations
4. Nawa (Introduction)
5. Nawa
6. Plenty Nonsense
7. Stubborn Problems
8. No Shame
9. Live For Today
10. Changes