Back in my freshmen year of high school, I ordered a copy of 'Ball of Fire' by The Skatalites. Not knowing at all what I was in for (I mainly ordered it due to the inclusion of the word 'ska' in the band's name as my main infatuation at the time was tethered to all things Third Wave), I was shocked and disoriented upon first listen. The music had a swinging quality that I wasn't used to in *my* ska. Where were the punk rock guitars and the lyrics about beer? Were there even lyrics at all!? At the age of 14, hearing tried and true Jamaican ska played in all of its off beat and jazzy glory was very confusing as the closest thing I had been exposed to prior had been the light shades of influence found in lesser known No Doubt numbers. Over time, I came to love the record and through the years came to love all things traditional ska (this led me down the rabbit hole from rocksteady to roots to dub to dancehall and every niche thing in between from Don Drummond to Yellow Man - this of course is all something I'll discuss another time).
In hindsight, I recognize that this record probably laid the groundwork for the stuff I'm obsessing over nowadays with the Latin, Cuban and Afro inflections baked into that steady back beat I had grown to love at the time.
When I began my flirtation with Afro Beat and African rhythms several months ago, I figured my doing so was long over due. When you've spent years of your life immersing yourself in the Jamaican stuff, making the leap from one side of an ocean to another isn't all that hard - seeing the connection and similarities between the two kinds of music is even simpler. Modern Jamaican, Latin, African and Cuban music all bear so many similarities that picking the disparate elements between the lot of them can make for confusing fun (example: 'Afro Latin Soul' - the brilliant first out effort by Mulatu Astatke, a short burst of music so perfectly formed that my jaw drops every time the needle drops on the first groove. Mellie routinely walks past me on her way towards the kitchen and attempts to pick said jaw up from the floor occasionally. She's since given up after jaw met floor once more after each failed attempt). The latin and boogaloo influence can even be heard on efforts put out by Jamaican gurus such as Jackie Mittoo on his 'Train To Skaville'. When the record isn't utilizing Meters-esque chicken scratch guitar, its channeling Joe Cuba and all manner of Latin heat.
At first, I chalked my infatuation with these sounds up to the Humboldt Park neighborhood in which Mellie and I live. Sure the hipsters all like saying that *this* particular street is just *barely* Humboldt and may as well be Wicker Park, but with its melting pot of Mexican, Puerto Rican and African American residents, its impossible to get away from hearing all manner of sounds spilling out onto the streets year round like gallons of fresh lemonade being tossed from the second floor windows the sounds are originating from.
Pint Sized Plant Cultivators at The Campbell Garden Co-Op Just A Block Up The Street
As many of the residents in the neighborhood have resided here for decades, the music they enjoy (and loudly mind you, never - NEVER! - at a reasonable volume) aren't the Rihannas, 50 cents and various sundry reggaeton thumps their offspring tend to prefer. Afro beat, Latin boogaloo, Cuban shuffle, it's all there and it's all ever present - especially in the warmer months. At first I was put off by all of it due to the sheer volume and inconsideration of the folks blasting the stuff - as the years passed though (this is our third summer in the neighborhood), I began to realize that my opinions were really just grumpy and crotchety at best - a temperamental white guy holding unintended opinions loaded with stereotypes and inappropriate assumption. As my prejudices melted away, the aural flavors began to seep into my mind and the connection between the sounds I heard walking down the street compared to the Jamaican music I had always beloved began to click.
At first, I dipped my toe into the water by purchasing a pair of beat up Fela Kuti LP's. A short jaunt later, I found the Numero curated 'Cult Cargo: Grand Bahama Goombay" and further along the trail began to delve into the catalogues of re-issue labels such as Sound Way and Analogue Africa. My love for boiling rhythms firmly entrenched into both my buying habits and my turntable rotations, it wasn't long before the stuff was all I could listen to. It's only with recent reminders from my former infatuations with noise pop and garage rock that I've come out of the swimming pool long enough to step away (momentarily of course) and grab a towel.
Vampi Soul (one of the many re-issue labels recently saturating the market with exceptionally curated compilations of previously hard as hens teeth to find music) recently released a compilation of tunes by Segun Bucknor entitled 'Who Say I Tire?'. Despite the dubious sleeve notes (am I reading about Bucknor or Fela here? The author often vacillates between the two despite the comp being composed entire of music made by the first - lazy writing can be detected by the author's lifting of quotes from blogs and ten year old interviews as well), the tracks on this are all sublime. While I found myself growing irritated reading the sleeve notes, in all truth it can't be avoided - Fela Kuti was easily Nigeria's largest musical export. His children with varying degrees of success are still trying to capitalize on the classic output from the Africa 70 and Nigeria 70 eras their father is most remembered for. With such a large presence over shadowing everything else the country was known for musically (on par with how folks compare everything to the triumvirate of Elvis, The Beatles and Madonna in much of the Western hemisphere), it can't truthfully be helped that Bucknor will draw comparisons (their relation by way of being second cousins further links them). While Fela's output was exhaustive and prolific, Bucknor's limited material is certainly nothing to balk at.
The eight minute workout of 'Gbmojo' acts as a slow burning candle, from the first note to the last, the bass and drums pulsate around one another like a wick slowly working itself into nothingness. The overall feel of 'Who Say I Tire?' has a decidedly American feel to it. Where Kuti's band was all percussion circles and simmering instrumentation - much of the music Bucknor produces absolutely cooks in comparison. The shades of James Brown, Booker T and The MG's, Stax and even The Meters are impossible to overlook and certainly many of the breaks in this music would make mad fodder for beat makers should they be so clever to look Bucknor's music up and give it a few minutes to digest (it's a shock that beat wizards such as Madlib haven't jumped onto this shit already). While the elements of High Life and Juju are certainly there, the almost garage rock feel of the organ along with the shuffling drum kit and bubbling bass keep the music tethered on a short leash - the embellishments of tried and true Afro Beat are assuredly present and at moments, Bucknor's band cuts loose to let their jams flow free like agave nectar. Much of the time however, the cuts on 'Who Say I Tire?' show a disciplined restraint and the tension of the music itself works all the better as a result.
While it's tempting to say that Bucknor's music is more accessible due to its more readily hearable laundry list of American soul and funk based influences, it's not a means to dismiss the man's output as easily as some folks have done by leaving him as a footnote to Fela's throne. Certainly, the two sit comfortably on the shelf next to each other and more over, would flow near seamlessly if place within the same play list.
Assuming I don't get too many side ways stares, perhaps I'll dub a cassette copy of "Who Say I Tire?" and put it into the boom box the next time I'm sitting outside the apartment on the nearest stoop. I'd imagine the melodies will mesh finely with the neighborhood's atmosphere overall. Well, until some car goes careening by blaring the latest Gucci Mane joint while setting off three car alarms in its wake anyway...
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