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Showing posts with label African Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label African Music. Show all posts

inner soul festival: culoe de song




19-year old Culoe de Song hails from South Africa and was recently discovered while attending the acclaimed Red Bull Music Academy. Like his debut 12" for Innervisions, this live mix from Sonar is relevatory, spiritual, deep afro-house - the tribe is alive, all swirling hand percussion and resonant thumb piano thonk, stripped and relentless. He even drops the "makossa" vocal from Manu Dibango, made famous by MJ in 'Wanna Be Startin' Somethin.' Easily one of the year's breakthrough acts. And speaking of South Africa, miss soph hipped me to the works of the Ndebele tribe - see the VC blog for more..you could pull some Harry Smith shit here and work between the pulsing beats of Culoe de Song and the Ndebele's penchant for psychedelic geometries..when Harry met folk legend June Carter he started asking her how her quilting patterns related to the musical structures of the Carter Family's tunes..

Brian Jones Presents: Pipes of Pan at Jajouka



Brian Jones Presents - Pipes of Pan at Jajouka
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If AC were a seminar, which it is, we would devote an entire week just to this record. Actually if there was any justice in this world, which there isn't, this record would be either the alpha or the omega of AC blog posts. But just like the world, which more often than not is a confused jumble of events lacking in both inaugurations and consummations, this record appears instead in media res. 
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Brian Jones was invited by Brion Gysin in 1968 to go to Jajouka, a small village in Morocco. There he made tapes of the local musicians, who have a highly localized musical tradition, going back thousands of years. Then he went back to England and studio manipulized them, adding serious dub effects, accidentally inventing the remix (not Puff Daddy). History is like that, very chancy. Like Manuel Goettsching, who helped to accidentally invent techno by recording E2-E4 in a single afternoon. 

Pipes of Pan is an extremely psychedelized field recording of deep moroccan bug-outs, and a mind-blower regardless of your musical attunement and/or general blown-mind skill level. 
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Tales of Grift: Music Hunted, Never Found #2

When I studied in Prague my friend Mike and I were obsessed with this record, in the way that young minds can ascribe certain things with talismanic intensity, and hold them close like blessed weapons in foreign lands.  At some point it became clear to us that with our fairly light course-loads we could fly to Morocco and spend a week there, with little academic consequence. Why my parents ever consented to this is still a mystery to me. Knowing the various fine messes and fool-headed quests that I myself have gotten into in my so-far short stay on this earth, I am going to lock up my children in a closet until they are eighteen. 

Mike and I flew to Morocco because we wanted to go to Jajouka. We never found anyone who recognized the name, which we were probably not pronouncing right. But like most griftorial adventures, it was the experiences along the way, while searching for the eternal Mecca of free noise-nerds, which remain eternal stars of my own soul's innermost constellation. Morocco is sensually overwhelming, a dreamworld in the desert, enveloped in hallucinations and secret symbols. Brion Gysin's "The Process" is the best book on the matter. 

We road a midnight bus from Casablanca to Marrakesh. In the back of the bus we gave two upper-snorting bootleg-hat wearing grifters a tape to play on their boombox, everyone head-nodding to "Shimmy Shimmy Yaw" in the desert darkness. We drank the freshest orange juice in the world. We brought tape recorders and recorded numerous street bands. At night the food stalls in Marrakesh would set up and we would sit and devour kebab, while steam from the grill rose in the hot air across a field of hanging lanterns. We explored Fez's labyrinthine medina. We rented bikes and rode them aimlessly. We both got the shits after the first and only time we ever ate in the French Quarter instead of the medina, although in hindsight it could have been because of the room-temperature yogurt we had earlier on the train. We took a taxi from the Meknes train station to Volubilis, a site of Roman ruins, the Westernmost tip of the Roman Empire, columns still standing in the African hills. Scorcese filmed "The Last Temptation of Christ" there, and George C. Scott walked on the stones as Patton, dreaming aloud of his past lives. We met Aziz, a young goatherd, while traversing a small hill behind the Fez medina, near a crashed car. We recorded all three of us throwing rocks at the car, then Aziz got inside and found some shoe polish and a bit of newspaper, and painted his goat-bone cane brown. Then we drum-circled on some car parts, Aziz having to tone things down for his two whitey bandmates. We gave him some stickers with fish on them. We stayed up all night in Rabat while waiting for the train back to Casablanca, drinking tea with a highly articulate, professorial grifter in a djellaba, who pontificated and seemed to have no place to go. Everywhere we asked for Jajouka. 



The Fleetwood Mac Special


Mick Fleetwood - Cassiopeia Surrender
Mick Fleetwood - The Visitor


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At AC, every day is Fleetwood day. 

Two jams from Mick's forgotten 1981 solo record, The Visitor, which finds him deep in Ghana in a kind of kitschy Ginger Baker-impersonation. Ooh, look, African children! Bizarrely, while he enlists a small army of indigenous musicians to help him, the record is by and large schizo-split between 70s blues rock on one hand and tribal tunes on the other - they rarely come together in "Graceland" style unity. " I bought this at Kim's, priced for five bucks and marked down another 40%. Some standouts: Cassiopeia" is a pretty solid, minor-key low-slung groover, with cool metallic percussion and that dark decadent vibe that always gets me hyped about the Mac. "The Visitor" is tribal excursion, pretty cool especially for the wild Prophet 5 Synthesizer basslines..

And then, a special re-edit of the Rumors classic that I picked up on 7" at Phonica. Would you blame me if I played this for an hour or so tonight? 



African Music Reloaded

[Editor's note: below is an unedited draft of a piece I turned into Earplug, Flavorpill's music newsletter, at the beginning of September. In a very unfortunate turn, Earplug has since folded, as part of a move on Flavorpill's part to consolidate its diverse media outlets into one more powerful conglomerate, presumably like Voltron. I was sad to hear this both as a reader and a writer - Earplug had consistently insightful and forward-thinking music coverage that I was glad to be a part of. So here's the piece left on the cutting room floor - there's a good chance the average AC reader will have a passing familiarity or more with the material. Should you not already be an obsessed african music geek, now might be an appropriate time to take the hobby up. Assuming you are not already burdened with hobbies as is. A hobby, maybe, is always a burden: what could be more fucking tiring than a hobby? The very idea makes me want to go lie down.]

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As a recent spate of CD reissues and new blogs attests, Africa possesses a deep and diverse wealth of musical expression still relatively to unknown to the West, and enthusiasm for its re-discovery shows no sign of abating. For those whose interest in the sounds of Africa was first piqued by crucial reissues in the last ten years from Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti and Tony Allen, his legendary drummer, it turns out that sweaty Nigerian funk is merely the gateway drug to a vast bounty of aural narcotics now getting smuggled in from the dark continent. Lately, much of the attention both digital and physical has been especially aimed at the musical legacy of West Africa, where in the 60s and 70s propitious musical cross-winds threw traditional folk and highlife together with Congolese and Cuban styles as well as a whole host of Western influences ranging from jazz to heavy JB funk and psychedelic rock.

In particular, label efforts have found no shortage of stunning artifacts from Nigeria’s jaw-droppingly vibrant musical culture in the 1970s. In its first incarnation, lauded dance floor-reissue kingpin Strut Records put out key Tony Allen records as well the indispensible Nigeria 70: Funky Lagos compilation, now after a hiatus it’s back with a follow-up, Nigeria 70 Lagos Jump. 



UK-based Soundway Records has recently unleashed a trilogy of Nigeria Special compilations which together trace a broad artistic progression from the more-traditional highlife sounds of Sir Victor Uwaifo to the psychedelic grooves exemplified by the power trio BLO, whose members met during Ginger Baker’s high-profile jam sessions in Nigeria in the early seventies.



The rest of West Africa’s musical heritage is now ripe for comp treatment as well. Analog Africa’s “African Scream Contest” centers its curatorial energies around the sound of ’70s Benin: the compilation is ostensibly named after the unhinged yelps on “Gbeti Madjiro,” a cut by the legendary afro-groove powerhouse Orchestre Poly-Rhythmo, which with its fiery breaks and rousing political lyrics revolutionized music in coup-torn Benin upon its release in 1970.



London record store Honest Jon’s has stepped into the scene as well with the comp “Living is Hard,” a boon of archival material from the Zonophone label, which in the late 20’s recorded folk songs performed by West African musicians in Britain and exported the results across the homeland, an aural testament to the living conditions of working-class British immigrants on par with the music of Blind Lemon Jefferson and Charlie Patton.




For those whom the crate-digging impulse has taken beyond the confines of the record store and on to intrepid intercontinental excursions, the internet has become a vital means of sharing the wealth, not only the sonic treasures gleaned, but the invaluable insights into African culture gained along the way. They’re full of stories recounting relentless detective work, scouring private collections and warehouses, tracking down long-disappeared drummers and legendary producers, rescuing copies from the rain, the ditch, or pyro-inflected children. The roster of traveling African music bloggers currently includes trained ethnomusicologists, such as Brian Shimkovitz, editor of the delightfully lo-fi Awesome Tapes from Africa, as well as passionate DJs like Voodoo Frank, aka “DJ Soulpusher,” whose Voodoo Funk blog, in addition to offering up mixes, album covers and other musical rarities, chronicles the exploits of his three-year West African expedition, which include getting robbed at knife-point, multiple scooter crashes, and voodoo shrine visits, all against the backdrop of regular bouts of violent political instability.
Analog Africa stands out as both a blog and the record label behind “African Scream Contest.” In order to properly license every track, proprietor Samy Ben Redjeb hunted down each musician involved, no easy task when it comes to a stack of dusty vinyl one-offs recorded thirty years ago in countries that often lack substantial copyright bodies. “I travel to Africa to meet the artists, to ask for permission to use their music, pay for the rights and to ask them to share their story - that to me is fundamental. I also spend a huge amount of time searching for pictures, old posters, documents and obviously for original vinyl, reel tapes, matrices, acetates and so on. To get a better picture of the general music scene during the 70s, I try to locate the people who worked in the music industry at the time, sound engineers, sales managers, club owners, label founders. All this is Analog Africa’s DNA if you like”. The liner notes bear witness to his tireless labor, featuring in-depth interviews that shed light on each record’s unique trajectory.
Over on the Likembe blog, the diverse entries comprise a dizzying encyclopedia which not only unceasingly doles out rarities from early folk to pulsing funk, but also strives to paint broader cultural context, by turns heralding and eulogizing vivid musical figures like the recently deceased master of Nigerian highlife, Oliver de Coque, and Franco, the legendary “Congo Colossus.” “I suspect African musicians have a much closer relationship with their fans because very few of them can make a living just through record sales (and this has become even more true with widespread piracy).” Says blogger John B. “Thus they're continually playing at housewarmings, birthdays, naming ceremonies, etc.”
The African digging scene is a singular confluence of passionate detective work by a community of dedicated, adventurous music lovers, together with the compelling remnants of an incomparably vast musical heritage. Each new find in turn only indexes how much still remains undiscovered, perhaps forever, by Western ears.


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