As New Yorkers will know, one of the most happening shows on Broadway right now is Fela, the musical/documentary of Fela Kuti, who pushed Funk and Regaee to new heights with his extremely political and simultaneously infections tunes. Sadly, before the show, I had no idea who he was, and neither, currently, do many others – but you may have heard of Pax Nicholas, one of Fela’s many incredible musicians (courtesy of WordSmith). So, for those who haven’t heard of him or seen the show, I’ll fill you in…
Revolution was in Fela’s blood. The son of Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, the first feminist activist of Nigeria, Fela was born and raised on intellectual thought and constant questioning. Originally he shipped off to England to study medicine but instead played Jazz and formed his band, Koola Lobitos, that played what was later termed Afrobeat: a rhythmic combination of Funk, Jazz, and traditional African call-and-response beats.
In 1969, Fela took his band to the United States and was introduced to the Black Power movement, at which point his music took a decisively political turn. Upon his return to Nigeria in 1970, he set up a recording studio as well as his infamous nightclub, The Shrine, which quickly became the place to hear Fela’s music and political diatribes, see traditional African dance, or simply have a wild time (the Broadway show, for the record, is set in The Shrine). Soon thereafter, Koola Lobitos became Africa ’70, and a legend was born.
It was at this point that Fela made his most politically and musically-influential tunes. The album Zombie was a scathing critique of the Nigerian military and the general military power. Needless to say, the zombie metaphor was, err, less than welcomed by the government — who were even more pissed when the ablum became Fela’s biggest African hit. Fela’s nightclub was raided, he was tortured, and his band members were killed – or worse. His mother was killed before his own eyes, thrown from the second story of his home. In response Fela wrote two songs: “Coffin for the Head of State,” and “Unknown Soldier,” which referenced the official claim that an unknown soldier had attacked and killed Fela’s mother. It was at this point that Fela’s attention began to turn from political music to strictly politics, and by the mid 70′s he started his own political party and eventually ran for the Nigerian presidency (though his name was erased from the ballots).
Musically, what made Fela so revolutionary was the genre-blending combination that is Afrobeat. Everything from the most traditional african rhythmic schools to the most psychedelic rock can be found in his music. The reason Fela never really caught on outside of Africa was because of what is called the “endless groove,” or the rhthmic base of drums, bass, guitar, and percussion that just kept going. Most of Fela’s songs are at least ten, if not twenty to thirty minutes long – American bands of the time were putting out songs close to six minutes, max. People simply didn’t have the patience to listen to music that long – and many weren’t privy to the tribal African pedagogy that calls for long percussive jams. Bands that did stretch their music in this manner, such as Parliament in the early 1970′s before they blew up, (who were incidentally influenced by Fela to a certain degree – listen to Funkentelechy Vs. the Placebo Syndrome after some Fela and you’ll hear the same call-and-response, endless groove, etc.), put out albums that weren’t very well received. Regardless, Fela’s music was noticed by a few individuals in the west (most notably Ginger Baker), and his most visible musical moment was when he came back from Nigeria to play Giants Stadium in NJ with a young Bono and Carlos Santana for Amnesty International. Fela died of AIDS in 1997, leaving a legacy of music, politics, and Afrobeat that many are just discovering.
Fela Kuti – Sorrow, Tears, & Blood
Bonus: the pit from the Broadway musical put out an album that is greatly infleunced by Fela and totally worth having. A Preview:
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