Dem come turn-us to suffer head to
Every once in awhile you come across an artist you wish you had found years ago. Fela Anikulapo Kuti is one of those artists. If only I had been more receptive to Nigerian jazz funk back in the early 70s . . . when I was embryonic. Oh, well. Lesson learned.
Lucky for me, Fela was one prolific mutha. So there is plenty of choice. From his first recorded album in 1970, he continued making music right up until his death in 1992 to rack up a total of 40 unique albums--that is, not including EP singles or best-of collections. I'm sure awareness of his early work is necessary to fully understand his style, but I've only listened to Original Sufferhead, produced in 1981. So keep this in mind while you read the following prescription. My exposure to Fela is limited to four tracks.
Here are a few scenarios which would benefit from a dose of Fela:
- You have invited a group of friends or colleagues to your home. On your table you have an eclectic spread including baguette, olives, oysters, salami, and chocolate mallow puffs. Everyone relaxes on the deck (or in your lounge if it is raining or your deck is non-existent) and drinks locally brewed beer. Your stereo is an old portable CD player. There's no graphic equalizer or bass control, but you can turn it up really, really loud. Which you do. Everyone is pleased with your choice (Fela). You earn 100 points.
- You are browsing the second-hand vinyls in your local record shop (or if you don't have a local record shop, you invite yourself over to your friend's house and ask if you can pretend his local record shop is your local record shop. It turns out he doesn't mind). The shop's ageing wood floors creak as you shift your weight from foot to foot. Your back is a little sore from sleeping on the couch, and you should really get some rest, but it's just started raining outside. You decide to stay and enjoy the music. Besides, you're only at "G." You earn 50 points.
- You've had too much coffee. 15 points
- It's three AM. Seeing as you can't sleep, you go for a drive (good thing you leased that Prius) through town. It's just stopped raining, so you roll down your windows. You always loved the smell of the city after a good downpour. You watch people meander home from the clubs and recognize one of them as the girl from the record shop. You call out, and she recognizes you. You ask if she needs a ride. She asks if she can just crash at your place. You say sure. She gets in and says nice tunes. 1 up!
Comments