Meri Kirisimasi!

I realize that not everybody observes the yuletide (I'm not necessarily a big Christmas guy myself these days) but we all like music, no? SO in honor of the season, here are a few tracks from my baby Martha Ulaeto's 1983 LP Christmas Africana (and more).


Martha Ulaeto - "Keresimesi Odun De (Christmas Has Come)" (Yoruba)
Martha Ulaeto - "Nwa Ga Zo Uwa (The Little Redeemer)" (Igbo)
Martha Ulaeto - "Kiri-Simasi Bo Sa! (It's Christmas!)" (Ijaw)
Martha Ulaeto - "Eyen A Mana Ono Nyin (Unto Us A Child Is Born)" (Efik)
Martha Ulaeto - "Gbo Ohun Awon Angeli (Hear The Angels Singing)" (Yoruba)

Produced by classical flautist Tee Mac Omatshola Iseli, Christmas Africana offers Western standards such as "Ave Maria," "Go Tell It On The Mountain" and "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" as well as a multilingual smorgasbord of Nigerian Christmas songs such as "Keresimesi Odun De" (by noted Yoruba composer Dayo Dedeke) the Ijaw "Kiri-Simasi Bo Sa!" written by Martha's mentor, Adam Fiberesima, and "Nwa Ga Zo Uwa" (by musicologist and Radio Nigeria legend Lawrence Emeka).

"Gbo Ohun Awon Angeli" is a time-honored hymn of the Yoruba Christian canon and it has been recorded a number of times, including on the 1979 LP Black Bethlehem by famed pianist and composer Akin Euba.


Released on Euba's own BMI (Black Music International) label, the album is mostly a collaboration between Euba and Art Alade (best known as the leader of the Jazz Preachers in the 1960s and as the host of TV's Bar Beach Show in the 70s) along with a host of instrumentalists and singers (including Funmi Adams, who would enjoy moderate pop success in the 80s).

(That's Euba and Alade, seated at the keyboard at right)

Akin Euba - "Gbo Ohun Awon Angeli" (solo by Art Alade)
Akin Euba - "Keresimesi Yi Ma De O"
Akin Euba - "O Come All Ye Faithful"
Akin Euba - "The Birth of Christ" (solos by Afolabi Ajala-Browne and Funmi Adams)

Interestingly enough, Richard Bucknor--the brother of 1960s soul man Segun Bucknor--performed on both of the recordings featured above; he sang in the chorus on Black Bethlehem and played piano on the "Western" songs on Christmas Africana.

And while we're on the subject of 1960s soul men, I just learned this afternoon that the great Geraldo Pino--the man who brought soul music to Nigeria--passed away last month. Can't believe I missed that... Considering the fact that he seems to have died on the same day as Miriam Makeba, I suppose it's somewhat understandable that the news might have been overshadowed a bit.


Also today, a friend in Accra informed me that legendary drum hero Kofi Ghanaba (Guy Warren) died on Monday night. Some more info can be found HERE.

Rest in peace to both of these mighty elephants of African music.

Musique d'enfer!

Stumbled upon this on Youtube. After watching it like 12 or 16 times, I just had to share it!



I don't really expect anyone else to get the joke here, of course; most Nigerians probably know Nel Oliver primarily for the 1998 ballad "Baby Girl," but amongst my circle of friends and family, this song--or rather, this video--was a running in-joke that just got funnier and funnier with each passing year.

I mean... It was jut so priceless: exaggerated, TV commercial-style drama, overheated histrionics, naff choreography, four-for-fifty kobo Michael Jackson imitators, extreme closeups of prodigiously mustachioed lips, white-framed plastic glasses--it had been a while since we'd seen a Nigerian music video that exulted so gloriously in its unabashed early 80s-ness!

The thing is, though: this joint dropped in 1989/90, by which time it felt absurdly anachronistic. But it was still a lot of fun because it was so... Well, I can't say that we were yet familiar with the term, "camp," but I guess we recognized it when we saw it!

I later learned a lot more about Nel Oliver, though. For one thing, he's not from Nigeria at all, but from the neighboring Republic of Benin. (Which is probably why he's singing in French, duh!) (Though to be honest, I don't remember even noticing that for a long time--we thought that on the chorus he was exclaiming music funfair! rather than musique d'enfer!) And more than that, long before Angelique Kidjo ever picked up a microphone, Nel Oliver was Benin's first international superstar.

In this interview with our friend Samy, Beninois organist Charles Rodriguez suggests that Nel Oliver was playing in Cotonou's Daho-Jazz Orchestra as early as 1958 or 59, but unless he started performing professionally while still in primary school, I seriously doubt Oliver is old enough for this to be accurate. (Besides, in the booklet to Analog Africa's excellent African Scream Contest compilation, bandleader El Rego mentions that he didn't form Daho-Jazz until 1962.)

Other accounts have Oliver starting his career in the late 60s with Ryda-Jazz, but what we can be sure of is that he made his big splash when he moved to France around 1975. His earliest releases, such as "The Trip" and "Hi-Fi Woman" were recorded with the legendary Paris-based American funk band Ice (a.k.a. The Lafayette Afro Rock Band) and Oliver soon established himself as a sturdy soul star, even becoming the first black African to run his own recording studio (the... interestingly named Spade Music) in Paris, where he recorded releases such as 1983's "I Got A Flash."

Oliver returned to Benin in 1987. In order to facilitate the development of the local music industry, he built Nel Oliver Studio in Cotonou, where he continues to record his own music as well as discovering and producing new artists. A true elder statesman with three decades of achievement under his belt... But here at With Comb & Razor, "Wadjo" will always be his magnum opus.

Musique d'enfer!

Doves.

(Someone requested The Doves' The Lord is My Shepherd in the comments, but it might be a while before I can rip that... So I hope this does the trick for now.)

Like The Apostles, The Doves (or The Doves of Calabar) were frequently invoked sans the The in their name, bestowing them with a certain ethereal aura (and potentially engendering latter-day confusion with a really deck English rock band).

Also like The Apostles, I thought they were a gospel group for a while--but I think I can get a pass on that account because most of their songs did feature a strong spiritual redolence in both music and lyrics. Harmonically and melodically, they were driven by a slightly melancholic undertow, and the vocals had a certain shrillness to them that was characteristic of the Nigerian Christian music of the time.

This is some Sunday afternoon music. Like when you'd come home from Sunday school and gobble down your lunch and run over to your best friend's house and push the doorbell, but nobody would answer. So you'd push it again and still nobody would answer. You'd know someone was home, though, because you could hear muffled voices and wah wah wah sounds coming from within.

So you'd take a deep breath and ring the bell a third time. The door would swing open and you'd instantly regret it; there's your friend's mother, still dressed in her church clothes but her eyes flaring with distinctly unChristian contempt.

Da, my friend, why are you ringing my bell anyhow! she'd spit.

You'd probably been hoping your best friend's brother, or at least the housegirl would answer the door, but his mother? Negotiating a conversation with other people's parents can be like trying to defuse a ticking bomb; trip the wrong circuit and you're blown to smithereens.

Sorry, ma! you'd quickly gulp.

Good afternoon, ma! you'd nervously add after a moment, making sure to sound off the salutation loud and clear because you remembered that the first time you met your friend's mother--when you came over to collaborate on a Geography homework project--she'd hadn't heard you greet her good afternoon and your friend later told you that his mother didn't like you because she'd felt you lacked home training.

What are you looking for! she'd bark.

You'd ask her if it was okay for your friend to come out and play, adopting that supplicating manner that parents seemed to find so satisfying. Behind her, you can see a few grownups in the parlour, drinking Champion ("The beer for winners! Have a Champ, BE a Champ!") out of dimpled-glass steins, and chortling in Annang. You notice that the wah wah wah you heard earlier comes from the TV: the day's transmission hasn't yet started and the screen beams out the vivid color bars of a test pattern, overlaid with keening, plaintive music.

He is eating! your best friend's mother snaps. Wait here on the verandah! We have guests!

So you'd sit on the verandah and wait.

After a while, your friend would come out, his hand crusted with eba and afang soup, saying Hold on let me wash my hand and come!

While you wait for him to return, it might occur to you guys have been best friends for a long time--almost two years--and he practically lives at your house. He's cool with your parents, he eats lunch at your house on schooldays, he watches CHiPs with you on Saturday afternoon, running around the living room pretending to be Ponch & Jon and jumping all up on your mom's good furniture. And yet, in all that time, you've never actually set foot in his house. (Not counting the two or three times you were allowed to sneak into the kitchen through the back door to drink a glass of ice water between backyard sessions of "Police & Thief.") You're always waiting on the verandah.

The door opens and you hear your best friend talking to his mother in Annang. Years later, when you remember this scene, you might recall that as your best friend closed the door behind him, his mother muttered something about unege--the word by which they disparagingly refer to the Igbos, a tribe that many Nigerians view as the repository of most of the world's venality and duplicity. A tribe that, coincidentally, you happen to belong to.

But this probably won't resonate with you for a few more years. At the moment, you're just hoping that your best friend has at least tried to explain to his mother that you actually did say good afternoon to her that day of the Geography assignment but she didn't hear you because she was busy yelling at the driver for leaving the gate open.

You'd feel your best friend's damp hand smack you on the back as he shouted Okay, let's play CI5! And then he'd run down the steps trumpeting the theme from The Professionals.

You'd watch him racing down the street, steering an imaginary Ford Capri. After a moment, you'd run after him.

In the scenario outlined above, the music playing over the test pattern on the TV in the parlour would have probably been from The Doves' I Seek To Know This World.

The Doves - "Strange Land"
The Doves - "I Shall Be Free"
The Doves - "Lawrence Rest In Peace"

Another haunting track from Henry Pedro

It seems a lot of people really felt Henry Pedro's "Midnight Sun" above all the other songs featured on the "Naija Sounds in Country & Western Music" mix... And to think that I almost left it off because I felt it didn't blend in with the other tracks and I thought a lot of people would find it crude, naive and boring! My friends, forgive me for the gross underestimation of your commendable scope and taste!

Anyway, there are a few lovely tracks on Pedro's Tender Loving LP and I've got another one here today:

Henry Pedro - "Angel"

I'll probably put up another at some point in the future, but as a bonus, here's the isolated "Midnight Sun."

Henry Pedro - "Midnight Sun"

Down here in Sodom

As 2008 winds to a close, I think I will spend the rest of the month mostly filling overdue requests and posting up old entries from the vaults that I never published for whatever reason. This one here is for my girl Tutu who requested it in, like, January.

The 1984 release of Lamentation For Sodom by Tera Kota (nee Gboyega Femi) remains--in my mind at least--a major turning point in the direction of Nigerian pop music.

I was in Form One when the record came out. I remember sitting in the school art studio trying to stay awake through a highly abstract lecture on the terracotta sculpture of the ancient Nok civilization when the art teacher suddenly digressed and spent the rest of the period going on about this musician named Tera Kota and how awesome his album was.

I was unfamiliar with this Tera Kota fellow and considering myself a pretty hip cat, I set out to hear him. Over the Christmas break I caught the video for the album's title track on NTA 6 Aba. "Oh, it's reggae," I thought, a bit disappointed.

Now, I listened to reggae back then, but I wasn't into it like that. Of course, "raggae" had enjoyed widespread popularity in Nigeria since the late 1960s and at least since Sonny Okosuns' "Help", most Nigerian musicians routinely included a reggae cut or two on their albums.

The difference was that up until then, reggae was viewed primarily as a style of music, unburdened by any particular ideology or lifestyle. It was just a particular beat and tempo, not unlike jazz or rock & roll. Most of the Nigerian artists who specialized in reggae--Cloud 7, Iyke Peters, Yinka Abayomi and the like--and even the very popular foreign reggae artists like Honey Boy, Ginger Williams and Winston Groovy--all of them used the reggae beat as a vehicle for delivering songs featuring conventional pop subject matter ie kissing and dancing.

But roots reggae, with its militant message of righteousness, revolution and Rastafar-I (and the rampant smoking of Indian hemp that all this implied)... For me and my crew--clean-cut pop/funk/disco kids who were then gravitating towards the emerging hip-hop scene--roots was what we thought of as "senior brother music"; the kind of thing listened to mostly by people guys older than us but younger than our parents. Radical university students, Youth Corpers, the unemployed neighborhood dudes who hung out smoking cigarettes in the front of the corner shop, the more conscious-minded street touts... That was their music.

What Tera Kota did was drag this scene from the fringes and install it firmly at the center of the popular culture.

While there had been other artists like Bassey Black & the Natty Messiah or even Pazy & the Black Hippies who had made nods towards roots culture in the past, none had done it as uncompromisingly as Tera Kota, or on as large a scale. In contrast to the glamorous and decadent image of a lot of musicians during the boogie era, Tera Kota was aggressively ascetic and asexual, and projected an aura or personal purity that bordered on misogynistic. He made it abundantly clear that he did not mess with the opposite sex (whom he referred to as "Jezebels") and would not tolerate even the most casual interaction between himself and any Daughter of Eve.

Furthermore, Lamentation For Sodom was more slickly packaged than any Nigerian roots reggae before it. Producer Lemmy Jackson recorded the album in Lagos with top-of-the-line session players (including members of the Cameroonian Mighty Flames Metallik Funk Band) and then took the tracks to London for overdubs by leading lights of the UK reggae scene such as keyboardist Paget King (known for his work on records by Honey Boy, Dennis Bovell and Linton Kwesi Johnson) and the inventor of Lovers Rock, Nigerian-Scottish guitarist John Kpiaye.

The result was a Nigerian reggae album with a big, world-class sound that was the perfect soundtrack for a society in transition.

Nigeria was going through a turbulent period: the military had recently seized control of the government and instituted a repressive dictatorship, the economy was plummeting, corruption was running wild, public morale was crumbling. Roots reggae became the voice that expressed the frustration and disillusion of the people in a failing nation. And unlike the case with Fela's music, nobody got hurt--no names were named and all criticisms of the government were cloaked within Biblical imagery and rendered comfortingly ambiguous.

Femi explained his scriptural allusions and prophetic aspirations in a 1988 interview with Prime People:

All the difficulties of the average Nigerian notwithstanding, Tera Kota says Nigeria still qualifies as 'Sodom.' 'Sodom' is Tera Kota's reaction to what Jamaicans call 'Babylon'. According to him, Babylon is oppression of blacks by whites, and Sodom is "oppression of blacks by blacks, as in Nigeria." He claims that Africa is no Zion, a black paradise.

"Nigeria is still 'Sodom'. If I had the foresight to sing about Lamentation for Sodom, and four years later people are still lamenting, then people should take cognizance of my messages. What I described in Lamentation is still happening."

Thus was the new paradigm set. Right before my eyes, the students and even some of my younger teachers who had been wearing bowties and suit jackets with the sleeves rolled up and hotcombing their hair back to look like Michael Jackson all of a sudden were sporting berets and dark shades and had stopped combing their hair altogether. Reggae music was the Sound of Now. The floodgates were opened for The Mandators, Majek Fashek, Ras Kimono, Amos McRoy Jegg and scores of other Rasta reggae singers to follow and Tera Kota very quickly got lost in the stampede. He never scored another big success despite repeated attempts, but for a few months in 1984, he was the man.

Tera Kota - "Lamentation For Sodom"
Tera Kota - "Nitori Owo"
Tera Kota - "On The Run"

Best. Band name. Ever.

The Vitamin Explosions were a moderately popular local band in Calabar when I was a kid (though I think they might have actually been based in the nearby town of Uyo).

I don't remember that much about them except for their name, though because... Da, they're called THE VITAMIN EXPLOSIONS. A name like that really stood out among the litany of local luminaries one might hear listed on the radio: Kingsley Burstic Bassey, Basco Bassey, Bassey Archibong, Bassey Black... and the Vee-tameen Ex-PLO-shun!

(Another cool name I thought was "Darlington Duke.")

Like most of the Calabar club bands of the time, the Vitamin Explosions played guitar danceband highlife and fairly perfunctory pop numbers, but once in a while they could throw in a curveball like this spacey Efik afrobeat:

Sunny Risky & the Vitamin Explosions - "Atak Mfat Eyen"

From the 1982 LP with Sunny Risky, Ikpong Owo (I know, I know... It's misspelled on the cover).

How are my links?

Are people still having trouble downloading the links, particularly Wednesday's?

Please check in here and let me know if you're still getting the "Not Available on this Server" message.

Where Naija meets Nashville...

We've talked before about the immense popularity of "sentimental" country music in Nigeria, so just for kicks I just decided to assemble a sample pack of indigenous takes on that particular sound.

Believe me, I know a lot of you are not going to be feeling this one, but just indulge me, 'kay?

(I nicked the photo above from Sea Never Dry, on recommendation by Zim. Sure, the posse of African desperadoes in the pic are Congolese and not Nigerian, but you get the general idea being conveyed, don't you? Besides, the Seydou Keita image I had up previously was Malian and much more obtuse.)

DOWNLOAD Naija Sounds in Country & Western Music

1. "Midnight Sun" - Henry Pedro
2. "Going Back To My Wife" - Emma Ogosi
3. "Baby You" - Joe Nez
4. "Concert Fever" - Dedication
5. "Ever Liked My Person?" - Christy Essien-Igbokwe
6. "Where The Wind Blows" - Eric Kol
7. "Come Right Back" - Ofege
8. "Believe In Me" - Ed Jatto
9. "I'll Put It Right Again" - Oby Onyioha
10. "Show Me A Virgin (In A Maternity Ward)" - Bongos Ikwue

EDIT: Now @ 192 kbps! Sorry... I accidentally posted a mono mix the first time.

Colombina

Farofa

Farofa, a meal composed of cassava flour toasted in fat or grease, is a staple food in Brazil. It is also the name of a musical movement launched in the 1970s by the Nigerian musician known as Eppi Fanio.

Fanio never really achieved major fame outside of western Nigeria, and even there his dance troupe, the Farofa Dancers, were probably more acclaimed than the music that guided their spectacular gyrations. For a while, though, Fanio seemed determined to establish Farofa as a musical brand that would be every bit as revolutionary and inextricably associated himself as Fela Anikulapo-Kuti's afrobeat.

This intention was made clear in the sleeve notes of Fanio's 1975 debut, penned by producer Odion Iruoje:

For some time, it seems that the popular music of the west Coast of Africa has been in the doldrums. Apart from Afro-beat which came into being since 1965 and some occasional Afro-rock hits, nothing seems to be forth-coming by way of another original African popular music. This record has been produced to fill that gap.

By successfully blending authentic African rhythm, played by the natives themselves, with some other musical influences, EPPI FANIO has created an Afro-folksy beat music which, at the same time, is appealing to both jazz and classical music enthusiasts.

With an approach as fresh as this combined with innate creativity and solid musical background, we can be sure that EPPI FANIO is going to be with us for a long time and "FAROFA" is the beginning of his beginning.

(Frankly, I'm a bit surprised that Iruoje would be so dismissive of the music of the first half of the 1970s, considering all the amazing, vital records that he himself produced during this period.)

The Farofa sound never really caught on the way it was hoped to, though. Part of the problem (in this writer's opinion) lay in the fact that it was hard to figure out exactly what it was--initially it seemed to be Yoruba folkloric music draped over afro-rock underpinnings furnished by musicians like BLO's Berkley Ike Jones and Ken Okulolo of Monomono; later Fanio turned a bit more towards melding his folksy melodies with disco, then funk and boogie and whatever else was the big sound of the day.

Another problem was Fanio's apparent mild-mannered musical presence. It takes a BIG personality to single-handedly establish a musical brand and the humble, retiring Fanio never really exuded that on record. He has, however, remained an industrious and articulate figure in the music scene and commanded respect amongst of his peers as the president of the Performing Musicians Association of Nigerian for a period during the late 1990s.

Here are two tracks from the 1975 LP Farofa. The lead vocals on "Here's My Love" are performed by Eric Kol, then freshly late of The Immortals.

Eppi Fanio - "Here's My Love"
Eppi Fanio - "Ikoko Ti Yio Jata" (On Perseverence)"

Lagos City Transport

MsMak requested this one yesterday.

As has been previously established, Nigeria had long been one of the world's most important markets for reggae music, and by the mid-80s reggae was the chief indigenous genre, largely displacing styles like funk, R&B and even highlife.

While most of the reggae artists of this period were rootsmen in the Marley-Tosh mold, there was also a slightly younger generation of raggamuffins who gravitated more towards the more current dancehall style then known as "rub-a-dub" and microphone heroes such as Frankie Paul, U-Roy, Eek-a-Mouse, Barrington Levy and especially Yellowman.

Too Low For Zero (or TLZ) were among the earliest exponents of this style to blow up in Nigeria and were significant for their integration of the "fast-chat" style made famous by UK dancehall MCs like Smiley Culture and Asher Senator. The big hit from their 1987 debut Emergency, was "Molue," a tribute to Lagos city's ubiquitous cadmium yellow sardine-can public buses.

(Man... A bus ride really was 20 kobo back then. That's crazy!)

Too Low For Zero - "Molue"
Too Low For Zero - "Cool Stylie"


(I had to dig pretty deep for this one, so I apologize if it's kind of rough on "Molue.")

If Only I Could Fly

BeninBoy requested this song, so here it is:

Harry Mosco - "If Only I Could Fly"


From the 1982 LP, Sugar Cane Baby.

We're back! (In other news: Jake Sollo still awesome.)

Technical problems kept us away for a minute, fam... You might have noticed that none of the links on this blog were working for a while there.

Well, the issues with the server have been resolved and we're back in business... And to kick things off, here's a little Jake Sollo mix I threw together this morning:

Oh Remember Me: Tribute to Jake Sollo



Track list:

1. "Let Love Begin" - Galaxy
2. "Close to Me" - Tom Youms
3. "My Best Friend's Girl" - Jake Sollo (feat. Morris Michael)
4. "No One Can Stop Us Now" - Jide Obi
5. "Cheerful Giver" - Esbee Family
6. "Love in My Heart" - The Mandators
7. "My Star Will Shine" - Julius Martins
8. "Love Everlasting" - Chris Mba
9. "Oh Remember Me" - Ken Eme/1st Flight
10. "Boats Without a Hope" - Jake Sollo
11. "I Want a Break Thru'" - The Hykkers
12. "404" - Jake Sollo
13. "Weebo-Me Weebo" - Jake Sollo

Miriam Makeba (1932-2008)

So I wake up this morning and we've lost another legend of African music... And I mean, one of the titans.

Over the years, the continent has produced scores ofincredible musicians who have represented her admirably on the world stage, but ask me and I'll tell you that on a macro scale, there are probably only three true game-changers, three whose influence effected a paradigm shift in the way (sub-Saharan) African pop music is perceived universally: Miriam Makeba, Franco Luambo Makiadi, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti.

None of them left standing.

ROME (AFP) — South African singer Miriam Makeba has died aged 76 after being taken ill near the southern Italian town of Caserta following a concert, ANSA news agency reported Monday.

She died overnight after taking part in a concert for Roberto Saviano, a writer threatened with death by the Mafia, the Italian agency said.

Miriam Makeba, known as "Mama Africa", was the legendary voice of the African continent who became a symbol of the fight against apartheid in her home country.

She died just after having sung for half an hour for the young author of "Gomorrah" at Castel Volturno near Naples along with other singers and artistes.

She was taken ill and was quickly taken to a clinic in Castel Volturno where she died of a heart attack, ANSA said.

Miriam Makeba was born in Johannesburg on March 4, 1932. She made an international farewell tour in 2005.

Born from a Swazi mother and Xhosa father, Makeba captured international attention as vocalist for the South African group, The Manhattan Brothers, while they toured the United States in 1959.

The following year, when she wanted to return home to bury her mother, the apartheid state revoked her citizenship and later also banned her music. As a result she spent 31 years in exile, living in the United States and later in Guinea.

She became the first black African woman to receive a Grammy Award which she shared with folk singer Harry Belafonte in 1965.

Two years later her fame sky-rocketed with the recording of the all-time hit "Pata Pata" (Xhosa for "touch, touch" describing a township dance) although she unknowingly signed away all royalties on the song.

She hit an all-time low in 1985 when her only daughter, Bongi, died aged 36 from complications from a miscarriage. Makeba did not have money to buy a coffin for Bongi, and buried her alone barring a handful of journalists covering the funeral.

But she picked herself up again, as she did many times before, like when her father died at a young age, or when she recovered from cervix cancer, or her many unhappy relationships, or unfounded rumours of alcoholism, according to her biography.

She returned to South Africa in the 1990s after Mandela was released from prison but it took a cash-strapped Makeba six years to find someone in the local recording industry to produce a record with her.

She since released "Homeland" which contains a song describing her joy to be back home after the many years in exile in which she spoke out against apartheid and testified twice before the United Nations.

"I kept my culture. I kept the music of my roots. Through my music I became this voice and image of Africa and the people without even realising," she said in her biography.

That was a Swedish TV performance of "Khawuleza" from 1966.

I'll try to put up a fuller memorial a little later.

Dr. Orlando Owoh (1934-2008)

Orlando Owoh dies at 74

The legend of Kennery highlife music, Dr. Orlando Owoh on Tuesday passed on at 74, report. Victor Akande and Dare Akindehin

Legend of Kennery highlife music Dr. Orlando Owoh is dead.

The musician died on Tuesday at the General Hospital, Ikeja, Lagos where he had since been on admission, following a long illness associated with stroke. He was 74.

Born as Stephen Oladipupo Olaore Owomoyela, the Kennery Music king, was until his illness and eventual death, the toast of highlife lovers, owing to his romantic voice, philosophical lyrics and energetic stage performances.

Members of the arts community have expressed sadness over the loss of the man they describe as a rare gem.

A cultural activist and Editor of The Guardian on Sunday, Jahman Anikulapo said the sad news got to him while celebrating the landslide victory of Barack Obama, the US president-elect.

Lagos State Governor Babatunde Fashola (SAN), yesterday expressed shock at the sudden death of Orlando.

Fashola, in a condolence letter to the widow, Shade, described him as an exceptional human being whose musical talents remained unrivalled till the very end.

He said: "The passage of Dr. Orlando Owoh, as he was popularly known, at this time has left a big vacuum which would be very difficult to fill".

Fashola said with a brand of music which was inimitable, Dr Owoh departed with fond memories of his very rich contributions to national development through his strong messages against socio-cultural and political ills.

Ogun State Governor Gbenga Daniel described Owoh’s death as "unfortunate".

He spoke yesterday through the Chairman, Ijebu East Local Government Area, Hon. Tunde Oladunjoye, who visited the late musician’s family to deliver Daniel’s condolence message. Oladunjoye said:"The death of the highlife musician is a colossal loss to the arts and culture community because he was an embodiment of talent; a composer, guitarist, producer and multi-talented instrumentalist."

Oladunjoye, who was Management Adviser to the late musician’s recording label, Owoh Records, said he would be remembered for his unique sonorous voice that earned him the title Kennery."

He prayed God to grant his family, friends, fans and admirers the fortitude to bear the loss.

Born 74 years ago at Osogbo in Osun State to Jeremiah and Morenike Owomoyela, originally from Ifon town in Ose Local Government Area of Ondo State, Orlando became a musician at 12, despite opposition from his parents. He had left Osogbo for Ilesha, in pursuit of better life prospects immediately he completed his eight-year apprenticeship under his father.

Armed with a Standard Six certificate, he returned to Osogbo where his budding musical talent caught the attention of renowned artiste, Kola Ogunmola who eventually invited him to Ibadan in preparation for the First All African Games in Dakar.

He established his called Orlando Owoh and his Omimah Band in 1958.

His journey to stardom began with his debut album in 1960 under Decca Records. The first album, Oluwa Lo Ran Mi was followed by another successful one; Alantere Ijo Oyege. This album put him on a better footing.

His music, a fusion of highlife and juju, has recorded over 45 albums, including titles like: Ganja I and II, Dele Giwa and Money for Hand Back for Ground, Jobs Experience, Logba-Logba, Kangaroo, Iyawo Olele, Money palaver, Tribute to Fela, among others.

Orlando Owoh & his Young Kenneries - "Easter Special/Baba Wa Silekin/Obinrin Asiko Lagbo"

Hail to the Chief

Look, I'm not one of those people who thinks the world's gonna change overnight, but it still is history, ain't it?

Besides, it gives me the excuse to post this totally sweet, bluesy afrobeat from my man Cody:

Cody ChesnuTT - "Afrobama"


EDIT: Okay, I was able to fix the problem with Dreamhost, so we've got a proper (as in "non-Zshare) link now.

"Made in Nigeria" Part 7 is up on Boogieheads Radio!

Soundzzzzz of the 80s... And this time, it's a special guest mix by yours truly.

(I apologize for the slightly ropey production... I had some soft- and hardware issues to contend with.)

Check it out

Well, I'll be...

Back in this post, I wrote:

I remember seeing [Martha Ulaeto] on TV singing "Everlasting" and "Ije Lovu" surrounded by a bunch of dancing kids, looking like a sexy music teacher. I begged my mom to buy me a music magazine that had an article about her in it (I can't remember what the magazine was called but I do recall that the cover of that particular issue featured Eddy Grant wearing an uncomfortably tight pair of football shorts).*

Today, our friend Zim sent me this:


Me and my mates used to devour Africa Music whenever it came out, trading issues and reading them over and over until they disintegrated into pulp. Most of the material I write on this blog is based almost completely on my memories of stuff I read in this magazine when I was eight, nine, ten.

Re-reading them now, I'm actually kind of impressed with myself for how well I've remembered it all. (Even though I could not for some reason remember the name of the magazine.)

Thanks, Zim!



*It seems that Eddie's shorts aren't quite as tight as I remember them being, but you can still pretty much see his junk.**

**Come to think of it, why did that particular detail even persist in my memory? >sigh<

Old school Naija types... Help me out please!

There's a song I've been trying to find for years now.

It was popular around 1985 or so. Had kind of a calypso or dance band highlife sound to it, but oddly enough it was a breakdance anthem at my school. (Long story...) It was sung by a man and a woman and the lyrics went

This kind of (wo)man, I never see o!
This kind of (wo)man, I never see!

I find am so tay I tire!
I find am for far away!
Na im I like, na im I go live with o!

This kind of (wo)man, I never see o!
This kind of (wo)man, I never see!

I have asked everybody and nobody seems to remember the song, but it was big for a minute, man... Somebody has got to know what I'm talking about!

In fact, I just realized that actor and comedian Patience Ozokwor (a.k.a. Mama G) recorded a cover version:



Anybody know who did the original? I remember hearing back in the day that the record actually was not Nigerian, but came from Sierra Leone or Cameroon or somewhere. I don't know for sure, though...

Anybody?

Apostles.

The band was officially called The Apostles (or The Apostles of Aba), but as some of their album covers announced them simply as "Apostles," I grew used to calling them that. Something about dropping the definite article makes the name infinitely more mysterious, otherworldly and intangible.

When I was coming up, throughout Ngwaland you would see their albums--particularly Wisdom and the eponymous debut LP that pictured the band dressed in white like a contingent of angels--displayed in every family's living room. I actually thought they were a Christian group, though... Perhaps they were at the time; I know a few of the 1970s eastern rock bands that managed to hang around until the late 80s and early 90s increasingly began to dabble in gospel and mellow reggae as their original fan base grayed.

Here, though, we have an offering from the band's heyday, when their hair--and that of their audience--was still black (and beautiful).

As the sleeves notes put it in wonderful Onitsha pamphlet-esque prose:

There is no doubt that the Apostles are just about the biggest thing to hit the Nigerian Pop Music scene, recently. Perseverance, endurance, hard work and able Leadership of Walton Arungwa-- Group's Lead Guitarist are the Magic in their Success.

The Apostles have to their credit four hit Singles; amongst them are "Down, Down the Valley", which served for them as an introduction to the music world, and a quality album captioned "The Apostles" which is still hitting the Country Bang Bang.

Now what I have to say about this one--BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL ALBUM have already been said about hit albums of the Beatles, Jackson 5, Commodores, Meters and Osmond Brothers. For modesty sake, let me say that BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL is ONE of the best of its kind. It will get you wrapped up.

HARRI EBERE C.

Apostles - "Black is Beautiful"
Apostles - "Ndi Nkwa"