from the LP Progress, Phonogram Records, 1975
Existing somewhat in the shadow of one-time collaborator Fela Kuti’s ghost, drumming legend Tony Allen is arguably every-bit as responsible for the construction of what we call “afrobeat” as was Fela, generating chunky rhythms from the vibrations of jazz, funk & highlife in such an addictive manner that it hypnotizes the listener entirely and thus, we never seem to notice how long most afrobeat songs actually are. Allen was beginning to grow tired of Fela’s unceasing narcissism by the mid ‘70s, but had his support in this and two other solo endeavors from that time period, which allowed Allen to utilize much of their well-rounded backing band, the Africa ’70. Tony Allen has enjoyed a resurgence of stature in recent years, being asked to collaborate with some notable musicians of late, including Jarvis Cocker, Damon Albarn, and the French space-synth crew Air. I dedicate this post to the brave people of Tunisia & Egypt, may your valor set you free!
from the LP Nightclubbing Island Records, 1981
Only someone as obstinate, adventurous & flat-out narcissistic as Grace Jones could make a song like this both entirely enjoyable and relevant, baring no resemblance to anything else inside the pop cosmos and released at a time when other cresting trends would seemingly make a mash-up of this nature (foreboding tango meets spacey dub) obsolete; and yet, I find myself returning to this track time & time again throughout my journey, it’s filthy feel being a perfect antidote to life’s doldrums. It was flawlessly scored into a number of scenes throughout the Polanski film Frantic, one of my all-time favorite Harrison Ford flicks (you get to see his ass), also featuring the alluringly irresistible Emmanuelle Seigner (see: Satan incarnate in The Ninth Gate). Frankly, if one had only heard this song and had never actually seen Grace Jones in person before, they could be forgiven for presuming she was some delicate petal, as opposed to the fierce genderless warrior-of-an-artist that she is. Maybe that was always Ms. Jones’s magic in the first place, an unpredictable and irrepressible ability to shape-shift at will, and in so doing, destroy everyone’s expectations.
from the LP Siembra, Fania Records, 1978
This was the biggest selling salsa album of all time when it was released, and it’s gone on to move tens of millions of units over the 30+ years since it dropped, perhaps the greatest release of Fania records’ entire discography; what Dark Side of the Moon is to North America & Europe, Siembra is to South America, Central America, the Caribbean, & parts of NYC…it’s that hallowed and revered. To the untrained anglo ear, this might sound like any old salsa record from the ‘70s---granted, with stellar production & arranging care of Willie Colón, but a large part of what makes this LP so relevant still today are the socially conscious themes found in many of Rubén Blades’ lyrics, speaking to the difficult lives of many Hispanic people in both New York and around the Spanish speaking world. It should come as no surprise that it’s the percussion that really hooks me in most Latin music, but the critically aware subject matter found here absolutely serves as the sweetened condensed milk to this slice of musical Tres Leches!
from the LP Bonnie & Clyde, Fontana Records, 1968
What is it with our nation’s never-ending romantic obsession over violence?! Sure, we could have a nice scholarly discussion on the contextual links between sex & brutality, the symbolic impact of the media, or the cultural acceptance of machine guns---but I don’t have to be back at work for another week and a half, so fuck that. The last escapee from an Arizona prison break & his fiancé are still on the loose, and they have apparently referred to themselves as the new Bonnie & Clyde, which seems like something of a self-fulfilling prophecy if they know anything about how that couple ended up. Of course, that would imply that these individuals, who happen to be first cousins (yes, it’s legal in 19 states), have any rational sense about them, which is doubtful. At any rate, I encourage them to instead direct their homicidal tendencies toward themselves (see: Thelma & Lousie), rather than forcing the police to do that for them, fuckin pussies. Speaking of fucking pussy (awful transition, I know…), Russian by-way-of Paris crooner Serge Gainsbourg enjoyed a short fling with sex kitten Brigitte Bardot in the late ‘60s, even recording a few songs together; this relatively brief encounter radically changed the direction of Serge’s writing, leading him to embrace his inner dirty old man---and embrace that he did, although I don’t think he ever screwed with his cousins. Here’s to hoping these crazy rednecks get caught or off themselves before anyone else is hurt!
from the 7” single, Philips Records, 1974
Anyone seeking an understanding of the direct link between many styles of Latin music and the African continent should begin their musical journey in western Africa, the area where a huge percentage of those living in South America & the Caribbean can trace their lineage back to, and the region which served as the continent’s richest source of rhythm-based music. The term “highlife” is used to describe a gumbo of varying musical styles which came to be mixed together during the Colonial period, but really got going during WWII as jazz & swing music gained more popularity in the growing urban centers of countries like Ghana, Togo & Nigeria. Found primarily in the southern region of Ghana, the Ewe people have contributed greatly to this body of melodic fusion, which isn’t surprising when you consider that Ewe culture sees drumming as a holy activity, believing that if someone drums skillfully, they have been given the sprit of drumming from an ancestor who also drummed… dig it. T.O. Jazz was one of the more popular Ewe highlife crews in Ghana, and although I have no clue what they are saying, this funky little number never fails to get my body moving & grooving. Music is universal!
from the LP Nigeria 70…, Strut Records, released: 2001, recorded: 197?
This past decade really spoiled us westerners with a seemingly unending glut of top quality compilations covering popular African music in the late ‘60s & ‘70s, exposing us to the considerable depth of localized talent found across the entire continent, far more sounds and grooves than the Fela or Ladysmith records we’d heard before. Of particular interest to us heads are these comps which focus on the fusion that was created when western musical trends cross-pollinated with the indigenous rhythms and cadence; the result: bloody fucking brilliant! The western African nation of Nigeria has proven to be of particular interest, and having the densely populated & relatively metropolitan capital of Lagos as its hub helped to forge a record-pressing industry that was nearly on par with those in Brazil and Colombia at that time. I couldn’t find any information on this particular group, but they sure as hell know how to develop one funky-ass groove---that explosion of fuzzed-out, psych rock guitar near the end of the song (right at 4:06) grabs me every time. Dude, homeboy in the cover photo is stylin’ yo, from the diagonal fade to those “fuck-off” boots, you know these cats came to party!
from the LP Colombia!, Soundway Records, released: 2007, recorded: 197?
When I was first working in the Dominican Republic, mondongo stew already sat among my list of native dishes I knew I needed to try, and locals were literally forcing it on me almost immediately upon my arrival; it’s one of those meals where you could ask 10 different Dominicans for their recipe & wind up with 10 slightly different answers, but the common ingredients where I lived in the campo were: beef & chicken stocks, yucca, plantains, squash, onions, sofrito, bay leaves, tamarinds, pork tripe (and often the snouts, feet, & ears) that’s been soaked in sour orange juice, and many times also the tripe from guinea pheasants or cattle. The whole process of preparation looked absolutely repulsive in the early evening when things were first getting on the stove or fire---jump forward 6 – 8 hours later, after insane amounts of merengue dancing, rum drinking, pot smoking & a little blow, and upon returning to the said stove/fire, the savory aroma coming out of that caldron is, quite simply, far too amazing to deny. For real, if you like to explore different culture’s foods, and you find yourself en la Republica Dominicana, sancocho de modongo will never disappoint after a long night spent partying or staying in from the heavy rains.
from the LP Panama!, Soundway Records, released: 2006, recorded: 196?
Growing up in Florida, and particularly when I lived in the Dominican Republic, there were always several kinds of Latin-based music pumping out of apartments, cars, shops; when I was little, it all basically sounded the same to me, but as you grow up and fall more in love with music generally, one begins to notice that there are certain types of songs, or beats, that you gravitate towards---now, as a grown adult, I can distinguish exactly what it was that captured me about some tunes and not others: percussion. This track, by Panamanian scenesters Bush y sus Magnificos, has a fucking army of congas, bongos & djembes that hold the reigns, and they are so categorically funky that my ass moves without conscious thought, dig?!
from the LP The Vodoun Effect, Analog Africa Records, 1972
Music is universal, dig? You don’t have to understand the words to be able to receive the vibrations; more cowbell anyone?!? Sounding very much like the Grateful Dead goes to Africa, this stellar jam from Benin-based crew, the Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou, is a refreshing example of how the Western sounds & trends of the late ‘60s influenced more than just a grip of white kids in the suburbs; indeed, the music scenes in Nigeria, Benin, the Ivory Coast and many other countries around the African continenet were strongly impacted by the psychedelic revolution, adopting many of the fuzzier flourishes as accoutrements to their native Hi-Life and Afrobeat jams. Songs like this make me feel that, indeed, cultural diffusion can be a beautiful thing.
from the LP Os Brazões, RGE Records, 1969
Although I tend to be highly critical of most American “music” publications these days, Wax Poetics is one very extraordinary exception to that ire, a magazine so thoughtfully put together that I would probably spend twice what they charge for copies of it---yes, it’s that good. A couple of months ago they produced an entire issue dedicated to Brazilian music, specifically from the ‘60s & ‘70s. Of all the albums I wound up purchasing in its wake (for real, if you are a lover of music, don’t ever open the first page unless you are ready to be buying some music that same night), this long player by Os Brazões drifts hazily to the top of the pile, in my humble opinion anyways. They backed Gal Costa on her psychedelic freakout of a self-titled album (sometimes known as Cinema Olympia), and if you thought it couldn’t get any better than that, it DOES!!! Anyone who smokes marijuana must own this album, go buy the CD reissue right now, I’m serious. Their mix of Brazilian undertones and rhythms, acid skronk fuzz guitars, trippy Sgt. Pepper-esque effects, and 4 part melodies has kept me floating above the ozone for weeks now. Seriously people, BRAZIL
from the LP Brösel maschine, Pilz Records, 1971
Have I mentioned lately how much I love hashish? The recent explosion of medical cannabis dispensaries in this area has produced a rather competitive market, benefiting the consumer in numerous ways, one of those being a healthy & burgeoning hash scene, the size and potency of which already eclipses even that of the ‘70s, when white people went to Afghanistan and Pakistan to purchase hash, not to drop bombs. Something about the level to which it stones your whole body, the way one good hit slows & deepens your breathing, even the smell and taste of it for fuck’s sake, some of the purer full-melt bubble not only looking, but smelling & tasting like earthy chocolate wonderfulness; and it packs a wallop my friends, right to the dome. There is nary a better soundtrack for the hashish fiend than Krautrock, its hazy freeform cycles lulling you into a trance, tenderly lifting you out of your mind. Like so many before it, this tune comes to life upon a drone of sitar & tambura, guided by the light tapping of some tablas, but soon an acoustic guitar joins the party and things get both a little folkier and tad bit stonier. I have no idea what the lady is talking about towards the beginning of the track, but the German title of this song means “butterfly”, so the flute solo is entirely apropos; the band’s name loosely translates to “machine crumbs” in English, which is both far out and cool.
from the CD Amassakoul, World Village Records, 2004
Words escape me when I try to pinpoint the way Tinariwen’s music makes me feel---I can only imagine it must be something similar to the way these guys felt the first time they heard Hendrix records; that collision, of native Touareg tunes with rock-based guitar playing, is testament to the omnipotence of music. The story behind these guys is mindblowing (read it here: http://www.tinariwen.com/page/biography-1), and I’m personally endeared by this fact: at some point in every interview I’ve ever read with them, the music journalist takes a moment to note with awe the massive amount of marijuana or marijuana smoke (often both) present at said interview. This song, their reinvention of an old Tamashek tale of oppression, comes across particularly stony with the way they echo that old man’s chanting from speaker to speaker---magical stuff!!
from the LP Progress, Phonogram Records, 1975
from the LP Nightclubbing Island Records, 1981
from the LP Siembra, Fania Records, 1978
from the 7” single, Philips Records, 1974
from the LP The Vodoun Effect, Analog Africa Records, 1972
from the LP Os Brazões, RGE Records, 1969
from the LP Brösel maschine, Pilz Records, 1971
