Monday, February 14, 2011

African Divas Vol. 4




Once again I'm forced to apologize for the infrequency of my posts lately. As usual, I have several projects in the hopper, but all kinds of personal business has intervened to prevent me from finishing them.

Fortunately, what should come over the transom but a fine new compilation by our friend Ken Abrams, who was responsible for a couple of installments in the fondly remembered African Serenades series a few years back. Ken calls this collection of tracks by female artists "African Woman is Boss" (a play on a calypso, "Woman is Boss") but with his permission I'm rechristening it African Divas Vol. 4, since I've been wanting to put together another installment in that series for some time.

Mostly off the World Music™ radar, these chanteuses are testimony to the talent and artistry of Africa's female singers. Enjoy!

1. Deka - Ade Liz (Cote d'Ivoire)
2. Fide (Le Repos) - N. Lauretta (Cameroun)
3. Mumi We Njo - Cella Stella (Benin)
4. Je Caime Larsey - Lady Talata (Ghana)
5. Oa - Betuel Enola (Cameroun)
6. Time - Sissy Dipoko (Cameroun)
7. Shameributi - Oyana Efiem Pelagie & Soukous Stars (Gabon)
8. Komeka Te - Pembey Sheiro (Congo)
9. Mu Mengu - Itsiembu-y-Mbin (Cameroun)
10. Mbo Ya? - Lolo (Cameroun)
11. Gbaunkalay - Afro National (Sierra Leone)
12. Gnon Sanhon - Rose Ba (Togo)
13. Djombo - Hadja Soumano (Mali)
14. Kanyama - Amayenge (Zambia)
15. Mesa Ko Noviwo O - Okyeame Kwame Bediako & his Messengers (Ghana)
16. Mede Yta - Yta Jourias (Togo)
17. Play Play - Wulomei (Ghana)
Download African Divas Vol 4 here (and you can get Vol. 1 here, Vol. 2 here, and Vol. 3 here). Be advised also that in addition to his musical interests, Ken Abrams is a talented artist. Check out his work here.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

More From the Ministry of Information and National Guidance




Note: This post was updated with better-quality rips of the original vinyl on July 26, 2012.

Our good friend Sanaag comes through once again with Famous Songs: Hits of the New Era (Radio Mogadishu SBSLP-102, 1973), Volume Three in the series that began with Somalia Sings Songs of the New Era, one of Likembe's most popular recent posts.

These records were issued under the aegis of the Somali Ministry of Information and National Guidance to rally support for the military government of Mohammad Siad Barre, which in the early '70s had "socialist" pretensions. For all their propagandistic aspects, it would be a mistake to dismiss their musical qualities. Waaberi, the Somali super-group featured on Somalia Sings and Famous Songs, pre-dated the 1969 military coup and was a training ground for many great singers, including Xaliimo Khaliif Magool, Maryam Mursal and Sahra Axmed. Moreover, some of Somalia's greatest poets and songwriters, in a burst of revolutionary enthusiasm, contributed to this project. Like Somalia's "revolutionary socialism," this support was destined not to last.

By the way, diligent readers/listeners may be interested in this blog post (also brought to my attention by Sanaag). As far as I can understand what this fellow is trying to say, he's drawing a parallel between Siad Barre's dictatorship in Somalia and the current U.S. Administration. Or something like that. Although his logic seems a little convoluted to me, I'm glad he appreciates what we're offering here at Likembe.

Heres is Sanaag's take on Famous Songs: Hits of the New Era:

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A couple of the songs are in the same vein as in Somalia Sings Songs of the New Era but there are notable differences. I'll try to provide some context while commenting on the tracks.

"Aabbe Siyaad" ("Father Siyaad") is sung by Ubaxa Kacaanka ("The Revolutionary Flowers"), destitute and often orphaned children raised in government-sponsored centres. In this song, they are deploring the hardships they and the whole nation had to endure before that period. They're also expressing their gratitude and loyalty to their adoptive father, i.e. Siad Barre, for the "striking structural changes overall" and particularly for "the light he brought into their lives". Although caring for these children was an excellent deed, the flipside of the medal was that they were horribly indoctrinated to the extent that some eventually had to spy on their families and friends. I'm not familiar with composer Cabdikariin Faarax and I couldn't find anything about him.

Waaberi & Ubaxa Kacaanka - Aabbe Siyaad

"Itaageer Allahayow" ("God, Stand by Me!"): Composer Maxamed Cali Kaariye (left) was a fertile songwriter and playwright. He's arguably the king of the love genre of his generation. In this track, he's exhibiting his admiration for the initial achievements of the military regime while putting the emphasis on the necessity for each Somali to support the revolution by contributing his/her best to the development of the whole society. In short: One for all, all for one and god/the revolution for us all. N.B. The title is probably wrongly printed. "Itaageer Allahayow" was another love hit from the same period sung by Mooge. If my memory doesn't fail me, this track is called "U Bogaadinee Allhayow!" ("By God, We Congratulate Them!").

Waaberi & Students - Itaageer Allahayow

"Magac U Yaal" ("Pronoun"): The composer is Maxamud Cabdullahi Ciise ("Sangub," right) who, despite his immense contribution to Somalia's contemporary poetry and prose, fell from popular grace by allegedly supporting the dictatorship till the bitter end. The track is dealing with the widespread joy that came with the official standardization of the Somali language in 1972. Somali is an agglutinative language with a rather complex grammar.This song introduces a number of ingenious and dexterous tricks to the trade of remembering and applying the new grammatical rules correctly.
Prior to the formalization, a score of scripts existed for the language - some for centuries. The discussions, overheated debates and tug-of-wars around this issue started in the late 19th century but couldn't materialize because of differences in interest and allegiance. For practical convenience, an 'independent' advisory committee set up right after the independence finally chose one of the Latin-based alphabets. That decree didn't go down well with some of the supporters of the original Somali scripts or Arabic-based alphabets. The ensuing conflict had eventually led to the imprisonment of some cacophonous antagonists, who were supposedly offered to set an example for any prospective dissonance:


"Tolweynaha Hantiwadaagga Ah" ("The Socialist Community") is in spirit comparable to "The Internationale" and calls for justice and equality by and for all humans, as well as solidarity among the working classes.

I couldn't find when exactly the song was written but I believe it predates the coup d'état of 1969. The composer, Abdi Muhumud Amin (left), was a genuine socialist and a quintessential patriot who firmly believed that the Government should use its authority and resources justly, and primarily to empower the poor, the powerless and the voiceless silent majority. In addition to the general indignation towards the egregious crimes committed by the regime, his longstanding personal commitment to high morality was probably why he was extremely offended by Siad Barre. The latter abused socialism and other ideologies merely to deceitfully contrast himself with the preceding corrupt and loathed authorities, therefore hoping to bolster his power base.

Under the illusion that Barre and his minions embraced socialism, Abdi initially composed revolutionary songs for which he later publicly apologized and even nullified by composing new songs with exactly the opposite meaning. For example, "Caynaanka Hay" ("Hold the Bridle/Lead Us") on the album you've already posted became "Caynaanka Daa" ("Let the Bridle Go/Resign"). His scorching criticism of the system and personal attacks on Barre became subsequently legendary material. It culminated in the staging of his play "Muufo mise Laankruusar" ("Dry Bread versus Landcruisers") opposing goatee-sporting, Gucci-dressed and SUV-driving elites to the common man and woman, some of whom couldn't even afford a dry bread. It's widely believed this was one of the plays that incited the people to rise up against the tyranny, hence precipitating the downfall of the dictatorship. It would amount to a miracle if this drama was approved by the omnipresent Censorship Board. It's more plausible the artists circumvented the long claws of the bureaucratic red tape by presenting a different play or programme for the customary preemptive inspections.

The play premiered on 1st May 1979, in the presence of the plenary upper echelons of the government and the top brass of the army. As the theme of the production was crystal clear right from the very first sentences, some of the disconcerted and vexed all-loyalist spectators jumped up immediately to interrupt the performance. It's alleged that the splendid conductor Barre faced the audience and mockingly rebutted with: "Let them have their moment of glory and make us laugh. Nobody here agrees with them, anyway, and we shouldn't spoil this festive Labour Day". Maestro, let the festivities begin! Or not? Well, Barre's honourable admonition and solemn vow, for which he's rewarded with the single standing ovation of that fateful night, vanished like vapour. Abdi and most of the artists were arrested on the stage (long) before the curtains fell. The celebration was thus metamorphosed into a tragedy, with a brilliant final chord: An original method to preserve a night for the posterity saw the daylight! (Note: See update below).


"Beletweyne Pts 1 & 2": This is an epic about a love at first sight. The singer catches a glimpse of a stunning beauty queen in Beletweyne, a city in south-central Somalia. It was during a short working visit "in the prosperous, blithe, rapturous, golden days" and he instantly falls in love with her. Their paths cross each other once more and they exchange very brief but amorously charged amenities. Unfortunately, the "cursed, insensitive leader of the group" decides they'd be leaving on the very same day and his appeals and pretexts were not heeded. The story ends dramatically as our Cupido's profound yearnings remained (involuntarily) unrequited. In fact, he never sets eyes on the obscure object of his desires again and he's still looking for his Beerlula (a nickname meaning "bellydancer", symbol of freedom and freedom of expression). He "now realizes, like Boodhari (Somalia's Romeo) did ages ago, that love can be an incurable disease, a dagger in your heart and liver, a reason to commit suicide. . ."

As of mid-70s, a growing number of observers interpreted it as a depiction of the various stages of the military dictatorship - from the initial immediate infatuation, through the subsequent intense disappointment to the prediction of the final demise of the crown and the current on-going disaster. That's why it's branded with the ominous term "kacaandiid" (anti-revolutionary) and was banned from the airwaves. Ironically, the roots of this ill-chosen compound word is "kacis" (to rise up) and "diidis" (to reject). As people and language are both endowed with the capacity to remember and retaliate, it's thus only a matter of happy coincidence that those frequent prohibitions consequently and justly abetted the public appetite to rebel and to shower the forbidden fruits with more (underground) exposure and accolades. "Beletweyne" was indeed the most played song in the whole decade. It's banned from the official channels but the volume surged up in homes, cafes, buses, street corners etc. If they wanted to arrest everyone who defied the ban, they would have been obliged to transform all government offices into prisons:

Waaberi & Xasan Aadan Samatar - Beletweyne Pt. 1

Waaberi & Xasan Aadan Samatar - Beletweyne Pt. 2


As far as I know, Maxamed Ibraahim Warsamehe ("Hadraawi," left), composer of "Beletweyne," one the most famous and highly esteemed living poets and playwrights in Somalia, declined all requests to provide footnotes as to to the whys and hows behind the lyrics. However, he's well known for his vehement and unremitting protest against the dictatorship. He even passed more than a decade behind bars and in exile, including five years in solitary confinement in the notorious Qansax Dheere - Somalia's "Robben Island" where many dissidents were incarcerated. He left the country a few years after his release to join the Somali National Movement (SNM), the front that defeated Barre's army in the current secessionist Somaliland. He's nonetheless against the dismemberment of the country and didn't take part in any of the post-Barre political factions. Instead, he undertook many activities stressing the importance of unity and rule of law. For example, he organized an arduous "Long March for Peace" together with other bardic heavyweights belonging to all clans and regions who were joined along the way by an ever-growing number of citizens. They categorically declined to be protected by body guards, and that was tantamount to risking their lives in the face of the pervasive and undiscriminating war. Their premonition that peace couldn't strut with weapons paid off well. In (almost) all the districts they visited, the guns were briefly silenced and the marchers were welcomed with an overwhelming warmth and hospitality, as if they were long lost friends and relatives. A Somali proverb goes "Gabayaa geyi waa gubi karaa. Abwaan asay waa aasi karaa" ("A poet can set a land on fire. A poet can put an end to the mourning!") More on Hadraawi here.

Waaberi - Tolweynaha Hantiwadaagga Ah (Reprise)

Download Famous Songs: Hits of the New Era as a zipped file here. For more music like this, two songs from Volume Two in this series are available here.

Update: Sanaag writes, "Thanks to Baraxow who contacted me after this entry was posted. According to him, the play was staged again in the late 80s, at the sunset of Siad Barre's regime. It started with the following short poem, spoken in choir while pointing fingers at Siad Barre and the rest of the bigwigs:

Dalkan dadkiisii baannahayoo
Muufo maraqle baan dalbanaynaa
Laankruusarkiinna waan diidnayoo
Dacalladaan ka dalandalin doonnaa

Annagu weli* muufaan rabnaa
Muufo macaan baan rabnaa
Maraqaan ku dhuuqnaan rabnaa
Markan maqaloo yeelo miyir waasacan


We're the people of this land
We demand dry bread with sauce/soup
We reject/resent your Landcruisers
We'll throw them down a steep cliff

We still demand dry bread (or we demand dry bread from the saint)*
We demand delicious dry bread
We demand sauce/soup to imbibe/imbue it with
Listen this time and be wise and just
* The Somali word "weli" means both still and saint, a derogatory epithet for the big sinner/human rights violator Siad Barre.

Update 2: An interesting commentary on this post here.

Update 3: Liner notes available below (click to enlarge). Sanaag writes, ". . .
The sleeve notes are a real gem. Just like those on the other record, they are manipulated to say what the dictatorship wants to hear and not necessarily what the artists say in the songs. In popular speech and folktales, Siad Barre's leading ideologues are called Askar (Somali for non-commissioned officers or colnoial soldiers) and they prove that majestically. The basic tenets of (Somali) culture and socialism were apparently rocket science to those so-called intellectuals and culture connoisseurs. Even the Internationale was alien to Siad's finest "socialist" experts! Hilarious! It's reminiscent of Nuruddin Farah's trilogy 'Variations on the Theme of an African Dictatorship. . .'"



Wednesday, December 29, 2010

An Igbo Minstrel




There is a parallel universe of popular music in Nigeria that exists mostly unknown to the international audience that listens to Fela, King Sunny Ade and other World Music™ icons. It consists of the innumerable amateur and semi-professional musicians and performing troupes who contribute so much to the richness of village and neighborhood life. While most of these artists remain unheralded outside of their own localities, enough have been recorded that traditional, or "Native Blues" music is a significant part of the Nigerian music industry.

One such artist is the legendary Igbo musician Chief Akunwafor Ezigbo Obiligbo, who was born on August 10, 1904 in the city of Nteje near Onitsha in eastern Nigeria. He apparently died sometime in the '80s. Some years ago a friend of mine loaned me one of his LPs, which I dubbed to a 10" tape reel. Unfortunately, the record had a bad warp, and the first tracks on Side 1 and 2 were unplayable. As best I can remember (the written notations I made have been lost) the album was entitled Egwu Ogbada and was on the Melody label.

So that's where things stood until a few years ago, when I was able to digitize Egwu Ogbada and a number of other recordings. Obiligbo's music lay further neglected on my hard drive until a few months ago when my friend Ed Keazor posted a very interesting write-up about the great artiste on his Facebook page. It occurred to me that Ed could not only identify the tracks, but provide first-hand insight into their meaning and context for Likembe readers and listeners. Here are his thoughts:
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For those who are unaware, Akunwafor Ezigbo Obiligbo was a famous minstrel (Akunwafor being his traditional Ozo title) whose career spanned the period 1940 till his death in the early 80's. Obiligbo was a master lyricist, composer, poet and exponent of the Ekpili style and master of the native thumb piano (ubo) similar to the mbira of Southern Africa, but marginally different in the flat tapered metal key arrangements and the variations in size from smaller sized version to the larger varieties used by more contemporary performers like the popular transvestite performer Area Scatter.



Ekpili was a style peculiar to the riverine area of Anambra state such as Onitsha, Nsugbe, Nteje, Umuleri, Aguleri etc. The musicians often played alone, singing along central themes of morality, praise singing, sorrow and pain- essentially reflecting the society's heartfelt thoughts. The bigger players often had a native orchestra of sorts with the native maracas, ekwe (gong) and udu (bass claypot) and backing vocals as components. Sometimes for funerals or coronations (ofala) they would add the native drums igba, which were usually employed as part of a distinct style of same name (Igba), which differed to the extent of having the oja (as the lead vocal instrument and voice as chorus). One key element of Obiligbo's Ekpili is the almost ethereal use of the backing vocals as a form of musical instrument either in bass format or even as percussion.

The main difference between Obiligbo's and Area Scatter's music was that the latter was from Owerri area, hence his style was not Ekpili. His singing style was also a faster and more syncopated, rather than melodic, style akin to Igede. His ubo playing style was very similar, however, to up-tempo Ekpili. The simple answer is that the differences were very subtle, being more based on the structural differences inherent in the dialect of the Anambra riverine area and the faster-paced Imo based dialects, which then translated into differences in the musical output.

While he was one of many native musicians, Obiligbo very quickly gained popularity via a thriving local fan-base, performing at funerals, weddings and other traditional ceremonies in and around Nsugbe. His fame grew exponentially, driven by his powerful lyrics - steeped deeply in native idiom and with hugely thought-provoking lyrics - with a fair dash of praise-singing to boot.

Obiligbo left a huge body of work, mostly in the gramophone record format, but many of his greatest works have been preserved, especially those recorded in the pioneering Nigerphone Recording Studios at Onitsha. Owned by the famous Igbo businessmen of the early 20th century, T.C. Onyekwelu, it was the most advanced (if not the only) facility available in the East of Nigeria at the time (the 30’s-50’s) and was the forebear of subsequent recording studios/companies like Rogers All Stars and Tabansi Records. The tracks were subsequently released by Onyekwelu's employee Chief Melody Okpelo through his Melody Record Company.

"Nteje Enyi No Bianya" is a mid tempo easy-listening track. It praises Obiligbo's home-town Nteje and his kinsmen, with names like Emeka Enyiogugu, Chima Mgbogu, Mayor Udenka, Apaka Udealor, Sunday Okeagu, Nweke Ijego, and ends in praise of himself - "Ezigbo Obiligbo Nwa Nteje":


"Odogwu Umuleri" is basically a story (not sure if idiomatic or factual) about Odogwu, a native of Umuleri (Anambra State, Nigeria) who impregnates his mother in furtherance of a money-making ritual. It is a mid-tempo track starting with the standard call and response chorus and quickening into a feverish up-tempo Igba.

Opening: "Ogbondu na ekwu ndi ogbu, Orimili na ekwu ndi oli" ("The waters always reveal who they have consumed") "Odogwu ebulu afo ime ya na aro ato." Chorus: "Oro Misita Odogwu [note the corrupted use of the English title "Mister," used clearly here in derogatory terms] Ewe puta ofu mbosi, ewe muta yabunwa, ewe muaya izu nabu na azu no, mama ya ewe bebe akwa." Odogwu's mother is pregnant for 2 and then 3 years and in labour for 2 weeks. She then bursts into a lament as to her plight, "Have you ever seen any one suffer the way I have?" The community discusses it. "Odogwu answer your mother," they say. "She is lamenting at the back of the house." When she delivers the child, he is asked, "What did you do to this child? Who carries a child for three years?" Odogwu essentially admits that he impregnated his mother for the purpose of a money-making ritual. The chorus then changes to “Ebenebe gbulu odogwu" ("Sacrilege has killed Odogwu.") The song tempo increases on this discovery: "Ndi Umuleri, Atu uwa bili na be unu" - "A horrible evil resides in your midst. Odogwu, the evil child who placed his hands on his mothers womb. Umuleri cleanse yourself of this evil:

"Late Chief TC Onyekwelu" is a great track epitomising once more Obiligbo's typical style. An 11 minute tribute and dirge for the late Chief T.C.Onyekwelu, it starts off with the slow ubo intro and call-and-response chorus, building up to a feverish vocal crescendo. The real power behind this track is the lyrics. The track starts with Obiligbo tracing his relationship with Onyekwelu, back to the first meeting, after Onyekwelu's return from Europe when Onyekwelu invited him to play at an occasion at a location called "Berger," (which is presumed to be a meeting of the ruling regional party, the National Council of Nigeria and the Camerouns, which Onyekwelu belonged to), ferrying him to the occasion in a chauffeur driven car and challenging him to perform "wonders with his music" by promoting consensus at the meeting, at which Obiligbo did not disappoint, even affirming that the gathering "agreed to his words." Subsequently Onyekwelu gave him two bags of money as his reward.

He then extols his virtue as his benefactor from that day onwards. He describes a day when he arrives at Onyekwelu's residence to hear the sounds of wailing and sorrow, only to hear of his death, which was confirmed by the look of despair and sorrow on the face of Onyekwelu's wife, whom he describes as Amalu Uche Diya ("she who knows the thoughts of her husband"). He expresses his sorrow with the chorus: "Onyekwelu Onye Ocha, Onyekwelu Ala na zu nwa" ("Onyekwelu a white man; Onyekweku, the breast that feeds the child"). He extols the symbolism, that the burning of Otu Onitsha Market is a huge blow to the Igbos. He further extols Onyekwelu's generosity, by the saying that a stingy man dies dies poor and miserable. The song carries on to give praise to named greats of Igbo land at the time: George Mbonu, Aaron Obijiofor (my children's great-grandfather), Sunday Nwankwo, John Ibeanu and Eze Omenaka. The song then ends after a roll-call of these greats by his repeating his usual refrain- "Okwo Chukwu Ka anyi na gbalu Odibo" ("In spite of wordly wealth, we are all still slaves to God.")

Mention must be made of Melody Okpelo, who is a recurrent mention in Obiligbo's song. Apparently, Melody Okpelo was the owner of Melody Records, Obiligbo's original record company, Onyekwelu's involvement being as financier of this company:

Chief Akunwafor Ezigbo Obiligbo & his Group - Late Chief TC Onyekwelu

"Oyi Mu Ikegbunem" appears to be a dirge, mourning the death of hi friend Godwin Nwa Ukonu (Godwin the son of Ukonu). The lyrics being thus: "Okpelo invited us to go to the town, anyone who needs the record come quickly." He then goes into a roll call of Igbo great and good, inviting them to mourn the dead man: Patrick Nwa (son of) Analiko, Nkwocha na Enugwu Ukwu (Nkwocha of Enugu-Ukwu) "Kanyi na kwa ya" ("let us mourn him") Alfred Nwa Onyiuke (A succcessful businessman of Nimo town) "bia ngwa ngwa" ("come quickly"), Angus Na Abagana (Angus of Abagana- referring to The King of Abagana- Angus Ilonze), "let us mourn him," Ejidike Bread (Mazi Ejidike was the owner of one of the most popular Bakeries in Igboland), Nwafor Orizu (Dr Nwafor Orizu was The Senate President) , Oye Aga Ufoeze, Michael Umeadi (a businessman of Nri in Anambra State):


Download Egwu Ogbada as a zipped file here.


The picture of the ubo above is from Wolfgang Bender's book Sweet Mother: Modern African Music (University of Chicago Press, 1991), which devotes several pages to Chief Akunwafor Ezigbo Obiligbo.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Nigeria's Lady of Songs




I'll admit to being a little mystified by the current fascination with the cheesier byways of African music - '70s and '80s Afro-Rock, Afro-Disco and the like. The tracks on Frank Gossner's collection Lagos Disco Inferno, for example, strike me as cheap-sounding and derivative. But what do I know? The first pressing of LDI, released in May, has already sold out. And if you think it's just ironic hipsters in Brooklyn who are boppin' out to this stuff, check out With Comb and Razor or the many Naija message boards out there. They prove that Nigerians of a certain age are still pining for the sounds of Ofege, Harry Mosco and Doris Ebong. It all goes to show that African music, as listened to by Africans themselves, has never been as exalted or "pure" as we outsiders may have once thought.

Back in the day, Christy Essien (later Christy Essien-Igbokwe) was the queen of disco music in Nigeria. She cut her first album, Freedom (Anodisc ALPS 1015, 1976), when she was sixteen, and copies of her '70s pressings today command astronomical prices on Ebay. Essien was just one of a cohort of female singers who made a splash in Nigeria in the '70s & '80s, like Onyeka Onwenu, Patty Boulaye and Martha Ulaeto, and if you want to know more, Uchenna Ikonne discusses them extensively here. According to Uchenna, Essien's 1981 outing Ever Liked my Person? (Lagos International LIR 1), was meant to take her to the next level of international stardom, and it certainly made an impression in Nigeria, where henceforth she would be known as "Nigeria's Lady of Songs."

I present for your perusal two late '80s recordings by Essien-Igbokwe which display her mature sound. Taking my Time (Soul Train Records STR 1) showcases slick production values and plenty of influences from country-western ("Show a Little Bit of Kindness") to makossa (the Yoruba-language "Iya Mi Ranti" and Igbo "Ibu Ndum"). All in all, a pretty decent example of middle-of-the-road Nigerian pop music:











Download Taking My Time as a zipped file here. 1988's It's Time. . . (His Master's Voice HMV 066) is a little less successful in my opinion, being a little too dependent on the synthesizers for my taste. Still, it has its moments:









Download It's Time as a zipped file here. In later years Essien-Igbokwe devoted herself to acting in Nigeria's burgeoning video industry and in November celebrated her fiftieth birthday, an occasion duly noted in the Nigerian media. Here she is today:



Sunday, October 31, 2010

The Unsung Genius of African Music




In a just world, Nigeria's "Gentleman" Mike Ejeagha would be considered one of the giants of African music, accorded the same respect as, say, Congo's Franco or Tanzania's Mbaraka Mwinshehe. As it is, he is barely recognized in his own country, such is his intimate connection to the folklore and culture of his native Enugu. But make no mistake - among the Igbo people Ejeagha is a colossus indeed. His lyrics are full of the parables & shaded meanings that are the essence of Igbo culture. His arrangements & guitar work, in addition, are sublime.

Ejeagha was born August 1932 in Imezi Owa, Eziagu LGA, present-day Enugu State, and learned to play guitar from two fellow residents of the coal-mining camps of Enugu, Moses "Moscow" Aduba and Cyprian Uzochiawa. Around the age of 18, he formed his first musical group, the Merry Makers. Soon he was performing and producing for Nigeria Broadcasting Services, and later joined the Paradise Rhythm Orchestra, a group owned by an Enugu hotelier, and the Leisure Gardens Dance Band. He founded the Rhythm Dandies in 1964, which later changed its name to the Premiers Dance Band. The group was forced to disperse during the Biafran war of independence in the late '60s, but reformed after hostilities ended in 1970.

Since the early 1970s, Mike Ejeagha's musical explorations of Igbo folklore have earned him a much-beloved place in the pantheon of modern Igbo highlife music. Some years ago I posted a discography of his recordings, which my friend Maurice O. Ene circulated among his acquaintances, eliciting these heartfelt comments:


"Let me begin by telling you that I am relieved to know that someone is considering to do a discographic project on the works of Gentleman Mike Ejeagha. I almost wrote my University of Nigeria BA thesis on Ejeagha. But, . . . well, that is a long story I'd rather not tell. To cut it short, I have a modest collection of Oga Ejeagha's songs on tapes. I also have some of his records, including Onye Nwe Ona Ebe, Onye Enwero Ana Ebe (POLP 057) and Akuko N'egwu (POLP 094). Ejeagha's music belongs to a genre of music that I call Igbo Popular Traditional as opposed to Igbo Popular Commercial. The latter to which most highlife music belongs is less faithful to Igbo tradition. That is all I can say about that for now." - JAK.

"I grew up (sort of) with Gentleman Mike Ejeagha. My father, a "master" of the Bachata guitar, taught Mike Ejeagha how to play the guitar - that is, the Spanish Guitar (so I'm told). As a four or five year old, I used to "hang out" with and enjoy them playing together for the "house" at their favorite beer joint on Gunning (Hill?) Road, Abakaliki, enjoying the free time my dad had just shortly after the Nwa-Iboko Obodo trials (my dad was one of the judges on the case at the Abakaliki High Court). Mike Ejeagha visited Abakaliki regularly in those days, spending much time with my dad as they investigated their musical interests together - for both of them it was more of a hobby than anything else. It wasn't until the middle of the sixties that Gentleman Ejeagha was talked into considering music as a profession. In the seventies, when he had become an icon of Igbo folk music, I used to visit with him at Enugu, and listen to him think out loud on the ideas he had of making Igbo folk music larger than life..." - Obi Taiwan

"The Gentleman is a very unique musician. He has been playing for a long time. He used to come and play in Ihe during Christmas festivities. I was only a kid then, but I remember some of his early tunes, 'Okuku Kwaa Uche Echebe Onye Ugwo,' 'King Solomon's Wisdom' and others. I believe these were some of his first songs... He is a phenomenal Musician and an exceptional guitarist. I am not sure he has played any thing recently, but he is still alive and well. Unfortunately, when I inquired about him last time, I was informed that he suffered glaucoma and is clinically blind. I cannot confirm this news yet, and until I do, I refuse to believe that it is true." - Hygi Chukwu
I present here a selection of tunes from several of Ejeagha's albums, with translations by my wife Priscilla Nwakaego. "Yoba Chineke" ("Pray to God") from the LP Ude Egbunam (Philips 6361 074, 1974) is a popular gospel tune in Nigeria. The chorus, "Yoba Chineke, chekwube Chineke, yoba Chineke, ogaazo yi" means "Pray to God, put your hope in God, pray to God, He will save you." Ejeagha sings, "Jesus come and hear our voice. Father who created this world, we your children are calling to you to ask for your help. Have mercy and answer our prayers." He calls on listeners to pray to Chineke (God) every morning and night:


Another song from Ude Egbunam, "Nyelu Nwa Ogbenye Aka," calls on listeners, "Always Try to Help the Poor." Ejeagha states that the poor do all the hard work in the community, and asks if there is anything that happens that they do not play a part in?


"Ikpechakwaa Kam Kpee," from 1975's Onye Ndidi (Philips 6361 110) is one of those Igbo folk songs, riddled with allegory, that almost defy literal translation. The title means "After you tell your side, let me tell my side." Ejeagha sings "Do not let the ngene [a wild animal] impugn my good name." He sings that he saw Ngene grazing on on the turf of Eleh (a deer), but that Ngene lied to Eleh about him, turning him against Ejeagha. In the spoken interlude Ejeagha says, "After the child tells his side, listen to the mother's side," and sings, "When the elephant goes, when mgbadu goes, when my turn came I didn't get what I wanted." The chorus is "Ajabula aja o ma nkwe kwa mee" - "I'm not going to let that happen."

Gentleman Mike Ejeagha & his Premiers Dance Band - Ikpechakwaa Kam Kpee

"Obiako Nnwam (Omenani No. 2)" from Akuko Na Egwu Vol. 1 (Polydor POLP 009, 1976) concerns a great chief and his conflict with his oldest son, Obiako. The chief has come to hate Obiako's mother so much that he can't even stand the sound of her voice. In return Obiako has come to resent his father so much that he has grabbed his igene (the staff that is the source of the chief's status and power) and is threatening to shatter it. The chorus:

Obiako obi nnwam,
Ngekene m igene mu,
Igene mu ji agba mgba
Obulu na be mmuo igene mu na akpa ike ya,
Obulu na be mmadu igene mu na akpa ike ya
means, "Obiako my son, give me back my igene. Even in the land of the dead it is very powerful. Even in the land of the living it is very powerful." Obiako does not understand how his father can hate his mother so much, but his father knows that if Obiako breaks the igene, he himself will die. He gathers the village together to beg him not to break the igene, but Obiako breaks it and dies. The "Omenani" in the title means Igbo folklore.


"Udo Kan Mma," also from Akuko Na Egwu Vol. 1, means "Peace is Better." Ejeagha sings, "Peace is more beautiful. Sibling should not hurt sibling. Friends must not seek to hurt friends. Children of the dead should not hurt children of the living. A wife should not hurt her husband (& vice versa)."




"Onye Nwe Ona Ebe, Onye Enwero Ana Ebe (The Haves Complain, and the Have-Nots Also Complain)" from the 1982 LP Onye Nwe Ona Ebe, Onye Enwero Ana Ebe (Polydor POLP 057) is notable not only for its brilliant guitar work but for its wry social commentary. Ejeagha sings that people with children complain about the trouble they bring, while people who can't have children beg God for any progeny at all. A healthy person complains, but a sickly person wishes for health. Some people say that money is trouble, others say that money doesn't complete a household, while still others say that health is worth more than wealth (ndu ka aku).

"Uche bu akpa onye kolu nke ya, (Ogaba) (ona aga)." In other words, thoughts are like a handbag (akpa). To each their own, and you cannot read someone's mind.

Ejeagha sings that the haves complain that guarding their money is too much trouble, while the have-nots say that their worldly troubles are too much to bear. Healthy people complain that God didn't give them wealth, while the sick pray for health instead of money. He asks, "My friends, do you see how the world is? Nobody is happy where they are."

Finally Ejeagha relates the tale of a wise, wealthy chief, and a poor man who was once well-to-do. The poor man spends his days looking at the chief and his affluent friends, wishing to be like them. The chief remembers that the poor man had once been wealthy himself and had spent much of his riches on those less fortunate, and gives him a big bag of money as a reward.

Soon the formerly-poor man returns the money to the chief, saying "Since you gave me this money I can't sleep, nor eat, nor sit down and rest for worrying that someone will steal my money." The song praises the chief for his great wisdom:


"Praise my good deeds while I'm alive," is the meaning of "Ja'am Mma na Ndu" from the 1983 album of the same name ( Polydor POLP 100). This would seem to allude to the practice of having elaborate funerals for the deceased. Ejeagha sings, "If you love me, show it while I'm alive. Give me something when I'm alive, not when I'm dead. My mouth speaks what I see. I tell the truth and the truth is bitter":

Gentleman Mike Ejeagha & his Premiers Dance Band - Ja'am Mma Na Ndu


Download these songs as a zipped file here.

Thanks once again to my wife Priscilla Nwakaego for her translations, and thanks to Gilbert Hsiao for sending me a rip of Ude Egbunam many years ago. In a future post I will be discussing "Akuko n'Egwu Original," a series of recordings Ejeagha made for Anambra State Broadcasting in the 1980s. If you enjoy the music I've posted here, I would encourage you to check out some of Ejeagha's other recordings, which are available from My African Bargains. Much of the
biographical information in this post is taken from "Life at Old Age is Quite Enjoyable," an interview by Nwagbo Nnenyelike which appeared in The Sun of Lagos, Nigeria on October 15, 2004.



Saturday, October 9, 2010

Shortwave Memories



More Congo classics via Nigeria here! Music From Zaïre Vol. 3 (Soundpoint SOP 041, 1977) opens with "Ngalula Marthe" by Orchestre Elegance Jazz, a song that provokes fond memories among West Africans of a certain age. A quick scan of the internet produces numerous comments about it, including these: ". . .I dreamed of my childhood in Sierra Leone. When I board a public transport like a taxi, private bus, pick trucks travelling to the countryside, this record was the music of the time in Sierra Leone in all these public transportations. . ." ". . . This song typified my happy childhood in the good old days in Nigeria. Late 70s and early 80s, I think. Remembered it being played on the state radio's ikwokilikwo hour in Anambra back them. The best of the classic Congolese music! It's soothing!" ". . . We used to organize dancing competitions with this song back then in Cote d'Ivoire. . ."

As regards the meaning of the lyrics, another listener writes, ". . . Ngalula is the name of a girl in the Kasai culture: Ngalula is special because of her genetic makeup. So is Ntumba from the cultural perispectives. These children were concieved without sex after mother has just had another child. . ."

There's no doubt that this 1972 classic had a broad influence on West African music. Compare the guitar work at around the 3:30 mark to Prince Nico Mbarga's "Sweet Mother," released in 1976:


Here's another song evoking the feeling of something you'd hear over a shortwave radio late at night. I'm not the only one who's looked high and low for part two of "Yokolo," but according to Alistair Johnston's discography of Docteur Nico it is avaliable only on two 45s (Editions Sukisa S.500 & Ngoma DNJ 5274) issued in the late '60s. To the best of my knowledge the only album Part 1 is available on is Music From Zaïre Vol. 3. A rarity indeed!


Nyboma Mwan'dido made his musical debut in 1969 at the age of 16, and was recruited by the musician and promoter Kiamuangana Verckys to Orchestre Bella-Bella in 1971, and subsequently to Orchestre Lipua-Lipua. "Kamalé'" proved to be such a smash for Lipua-Lipua and its lead singer that in 1975 Nyboma split from Verckys to form his own band, Les Kamalé, which notched a series of hits, including the enduring classic "Doublé Doublé." You can hear a full-length version of "Kamalé" here.



When Kiamuangana Verckys left OK Jazz in 1969, he soon developed a recording empire and a raucous sound to rival those of his mentor Franco and the other giant of Congo music at the time, Tabu Ley Rochereau. I've been unable to locate Part One of "Dona," the wild horns, biting guitar licks and over-the-top vocals of which showcase the "Verckys Sound" at its best:


Part One of Bella-Bella's great "Mbuta" has also eluded me. You can hear Nyboma singing backup here:


"Infidelité Mado," also known as "Mado," realeased in 1972, was a great hit for Franco and Orchestre TPOK Jazz. I apologize for the poor sound quality of the version here, indeed of the last four tracks on Music from Zaïre Vol. 3 (Side Two of the LP is slightly off-center). You can hear a better version of "Mado," courtesy of Worldservice, here:


Founded in 1953, Joseph Kabasele's African Jazz was the first "modern" Congolese orchestra:


Download Music From Zaïre Vol. 3 as a zipped file here.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

More Desert Island Music




Given that he's one of the most illustrious Congolese musicians of his generation, information about Côme Moutouari, better known as Kosmos, is a bit hard to come by. I know that he's one of a trio of musical brothers (the others being Michel and Pierre Moutouari), that he got started in the '60s with the legendary Bantous de la Capitale in Brazzaville, that he left that congregation in the '70s with Pamelo Mounk'a and Celio to form Trio Ce.Pa.Kos and Orchestre le Peuple, and that in the '80s he recorded a series of solo LPs that are some of finest Congo recordings of that golden decade.

Of these, Ba Camarades (Safari Sound SAS 040, ca. 1983) is true "desert island music" that stands as a distillation of all that was great about '80s Congo music: the sweeping guitar filigrees, the understated horns and above all, Kosmos's lovely voice. They sure don't make records like this any more!





Download Ba Camarades as a zipped file here. Here are some earlier recordings by Kosmos that I took from the compilation CD Best of Kosmos Vol. 2 (Glenn Music GM 324008, 1995). The song translations are from the liner notes. "Miléna," recorded with Bantous de la Capitale, is one of Kosmos' best loved songs. In it the singer recounts the pain his love for Miléna is causing him: "They make me suffer for loving you. I didn't know that my mother-in-law was a merchant of children. She wants me to give her all of the money I make. Oh mother-in-law, please don't tell Miléna to give my child to a man richer than me":


In "Kamwiya" Kosmos and Pamelo Mounk'a sing, "You are losing your way. Bring your heart back to its place. I love you but don't come to me because of bad advice. Don't lose the light of my love. I'm fed up with that suffering":


"Milla, I've heard something horrible. Tomorrow you're flying to a foreign country. Where you are going there are a lot of men. I am afraid you will forget me. I am crying. You leave me with a wound that can only be healed by your return":