Seun & Femi Kuti & Ebo Taylor concerts!

Seun Kuti & Egypt 80 - A Long Way To The Beginning (new album)

Seun's new album "A long way to the beginning" will be out on February 24th.



Tracklist

01 IMF
02 African Airways
03 Higher Consciousness
04 Ohun Aiye
05 Kalakuta Boy
06 African Smoke
07 Black Woman

Another review of Seun Kuti's "From Africa With Fury: Rise"

After enjoying an amazing concert of Seun Kuti in Hamburg, Germany, yesterday I have to add another interesting review of his new album!

Here we go:

With the mighty new From Africa With Fury: Rise, Seun Anikulapo Kuti heads up Egypt 80, the extraordinary combo first fronted by his renowned father. The album follows Kuti’s critically praised debut, 2008’s Many Things , which was unanimously hailed for continuing Fela’s musical legacy. From Africa With Fury: Rise sees Kuti finding his own idiosyncratic voice as songwriter, singer, and band leader, its songs and sonic approach marked by provocative edge and mature self-assurance.

Produced by Brian Eno, John Reynolds, and Kuti, with additional production by Godwin Logie, and mixed by John Reynolds and Tim Oliver, the album captures Seun and Egypt 80’s extraordinary power, fraught with the scorching rhythms and kinetic funk energy that has earned the band – as ever, under the leadership of alto saxophonist Lekan Animashaun – worldwide acclaim as one of today’s most incendiary live acts. With Kuti’s booming vocal stylings at the forefront, songs like “African Soldier” et “Mr. Big Thief” are fueled by call-and-response hooks, breakneck tempos, and combative, topical lyricism which firmly sets the classic Egypt 80 sound in the modern era.

“I wanted to do something completely different,” Kuti says. “Not different by trying to be American or European with my sound, just trying to make a very different album from my last album. My last album, it was my first time in control, I was not as confident as in saying what I wanted. This time, I said, ‘Okay, I can be more confident in how I express myself, I can say what I want, be as complex as I want.’”

Kuti was concerned that studios in his hometown of Lagos, Nigeria were not up to the job, so the album’s basic tracks were recorded at Rio de Janiero’s Cia. Dos Tecnicos Studios with veteran producer/mixer Godwin Logie (Steel Pulse, Horace Andy) behind the board. In the fall of 2010, Kuti made two visits to London where he mixed the record alongside legendary producers Brian Eno and John Reynolds. Eno – an avowed fan who had previously invited Kuti and his band to perform at Sydney’s Luminous Festival 2009 and the UK’s Brighton Festival 2010 – has nothing but the highest praise for Seun and his band, hailing them for “making some of the biggest, wildest, livest music on the planet."

Co-producer Reynolds (whose work as musician, producer, and mixer spans such artists as Sinéad O’Connor, U2, and Natacha Atlas) agrees, applauding Kuti and Egypt 80’s distinctive Afrobeat as “a musical adrenaline rush.”

“Amazing beats, horns, chants,” he adds, “all beautifully crafted and delivered with the punch of a Jūdan master. A most incredible force, Seun carries a great soul which will touch everyone who meets him.”

Kuti is equally effusive about his co-producers, reminding “Brian Eno is ‘Brian Eno’ for a reason. He has a great mind when it comes to music. He adds new dimensions to the sound. He showed me new ways of opening up the sound I’d never have thought of on my own. Not to downplay the work of John Reynolds, who is an incredible producer. I’m really glad I had them work on the album.”

Eno, Reynolds, and Kuti sought tension and release in the Rio recordings, incorporating breathing room and sonic space into the intricate rhythms and melodies. Further tracks – performed by Eno, Reynolds, guitarist Justin Adams (Robert Plant, Tinariwen), keyboardist Julian Wilson (Grand Drive, Belinda Carlisle), and guitarist Leo Abrahams (Florence + The Machine, Brett Anderson, Bryan Ferry) – were cut to lend further musical flavors to Egypt 80’s archetypal Afrobeat. While Kuti has nothing but the highest praise for his collaborators, he is equally quick to note that the songs of From Africa With Fury: Rise had been written more than a year prior to recording and had long been featured in live performance. Despite the studio craftsmanship, Seun sees the recording process as merely a means to an end, a way of capturing his music’s magic for posterity.

“Afrobeat has to go from stage to studio, not studio to stage,” he says. “I don’t believe in going into the studio to write songs. You create music in the world, outside, in the environment. You create music with nature, not in the studio. You go to the studio to record, that’s it. Music created in the studio is commercial music, music that only wants to sell, that has nothing to do with the world.”

Born in 1983, Seun first began performing with Egypt 80 at the age of nine, warming up audiences with renditions of his father’s songs. After Fela’s death in 1997, Seun stepped up to the front of the band, leading the celebrated combo as both lead vocalist and saxophonist. While his father’s influence cannot be understated, Kuti was determined to cut his own distinctive musical path, incorporating contemporary influences into the traditional Afrobeat approach.

“What inspires me is the time that I live in,” Kuti says. “Basically what is happening today in Africa are the same things that were happening 40 years ago, when my father was songwriting, but they’re happening in different ways. So when I write my music, it’s from the perspective of a 27-year-old man living in 2011, instead of a 30-year-old man living in the 1970s.”

Sadly, Kuti finds himself challenging many of the same injustices his father fought in his heyday, from corporate greedheads to militaristic leaders to the ever-futile war on drugs. Perhaps the album’s most unequivocal battle cry is the blistering “Rise” , in which Kuti impels listeners to fight “the petroleum companies” that “use our oil to destroy our land,” “the diamond companies” that “use our brothers as slaves for the stone,” and “companies like “Monsanto and Halliburton” which “use their food to make my people hungry.” But where Fela’s work often featured an explicit call to revolution, Seun’s goal is subtler. He sees his role as that of an educator, speaking truth to power in order to provoke awareness and debate throughout his beloved homeland.

“In Africa today, most people are struggling in silence,” Kuti says. “The systematic oppression of the people has made them blinded to their reality. Everybody’s just thinking about survival. Nobody wants to stand up for anything, everybody just wants to tow the line. So I’m trying to make people think about these things that they are forgetting. I want to inspire people to want things to change.”

Seun Kuti is determined to speak to the new generation of young Africans born after his father’s glory days. If he learned but one lesson from Fela, it is that that no one has greater impact on hearts and mind than the true artist. As such, the powerhouse protest music found on From Africa With Fury: Rise serves as a kind of musical antidote to the corporate pop that he feels is polluting Africa’s airwaves, distracting its citizens from the things that truly matter.

“Music has great impact on people’s feelings,” Kuti says. “That’s what music should be. Pop music today is all about me, me, me. Nobody is singing about we. But nothing can change if we don’t look out for our brothers and sisters.”

public.because.tv

The Afrobeat savior has arrived - Seun Kuti (2007)

The Afrobeat savior has arrived

Last night Seun Kuti, the youngest son of Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti, made a stunning Chicago debut in Millennium Park, fronting the remnants of his father’s last band, Egypt 80. Since Fela’s death a good number of acts have been scrabbling to grab the Afrobeat throne, from American groups like Antibalas and Nomo to Africans like former Fela drummer Tony Allen and Dele Sosimi, but most have deferred to another of the master’s sons, Femi Kuti, who's been touring here regularly for over a decade. But 25-year-old Seun made it clear who’s in control. His resemblance to his father is even more uncanny than I thought, and while he’s clearly channeling Fela’s creative spirit and sound, his charisma and skill can’t be faked.

At once sexy, funny, smart, and confident, he led his killer band through a relentless 90-minute set distinguished by good pacing, non-flashy showmanship, and a convincing passion. Although only eight members of the 17-piece band actually backed Fela before he died a decade ago, they played with the force of a locomotive and the precision of a clock, expertly heeding Seun’s verbal cues to drop out, cool down, or rev up. The leader sings in a thunderously deep, imposingly authoritative tone, chanting lyrics that do their best to tackle social injustice in Nigeria and Africa at large. His song explanations were cogent without being preachy and he wasn’t afraid to laugh at himself.

Toward the end of the set Seun invited some audience members onstage to dance—all night he mentioned the importance of audience participation back in Lagos—but he clearly didn’t expect several hundred of the estimated 8,000-strong crowd to swarm the bandstand. Having a number of dancers and admirers make short trips to the stage is a common tradition in African music, but the stream of fans that overwhelmed the band looked more like several busloads of the Bonnaroo unwashed than connoisseurs of Afrobeat. Millennium Park security exerted the force of a wet noodle; two guards on either side of the stage literally opened gates, which were stormed by eager fans. Luckily, no one was hurt and nothing damaged, but it was astonishing that the park’s security force was so feeble. It could have been a real mess. While it’s true that Seun invited concertgoers onstage, an informed, skilled security team should have had little problem containing the mellow crowd. Bandleader and baritone saxophonist Tajudeen Lekan Animasahun successfully directed the smooth exodus from the stage once the song ended.

While most American labels and concert promoters seem committed to Femi, Seun and his band are only playing five dates in North America and they’ve yet to land an album deal, although Chicago’s own Still Music has just released a great 12-inch single, the first music made available in this country by them. I don’t think it will take long before folks realize that Seun is the real deal. Femi, who will play Lollapalooza later this summer, has just released a best-of double-CD called The Definitive Collection (Wrasse). I’ve seen Femi three or four times, starting way back in 1995 as part of an Africa Fete tour at the Skyline Stage, and none of those performances come near what I witnessed last night.

chicagoreader.com, 2007

The Afrobeat Diaries ... by allaboutjazz.com (Pt.22)

Thanx again to Michael Ricci and Chris May for the permission to re-post these series!!!

Read the full article at allaboutjazz.com.


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Part 22 - Seun Kuti and Brian Eno Take Afrobeat Forward

It is, almost, too good to be true. With his second album, the aptly titled From Africa With Fury: Rise, co-produced with Brian Eno, Seun Kuti delivers on the promise of his debut, Many Things (Tot Ou Tard, 2008), which inhabited Fela's Afrobeat so resoundingly, and steps forward, his own man.

All the music's original signatures are here: insurrectionary lyrics, sung in Yoruba, English and Broken English; symbiotic tenor and rhythm guitars; voluptuous beats; fat, layered horns; blazing saxophone and trumpet solos; propulsive call and response vocals.

That alone is a blast, of course. But Rise adds fresh twists and turns to the music, including newly spacious sound design, ramped up bass guitar ostinatos and other echoes of funk, dub and ambient.

"When I write my music," says Seun, "it's from the perspective of a 27-year old man living in 2011, instead of a 30-year old man living in the 1970s."

The album's gestation took around 18 months. Seun and Egypt 80 played the material live for a year, honing the song structures and arrangements, before recording it, in Rio de Janiero, with veteran dub and reggae producer Godwin Logie. "Afrobeat has to go from the stage to studio, not studio to stage," says Seun. "You create music in the world, outside, in the environment. You go to the studio to record, that's it. Music created in the studio is commercial music, music that only wants to sell, that has nothing to do with the world."

It's an old school approach, and it works; Fela operated the same way (and having finally recorded a song, never played it live again). But Rise's susequent sound sculpting process produced remarkable results. The Rio tracks were mixed in London by Seun, Brian Eno and John Reynolds (U2, Natachca Atlas). Seun gives much of the credit for the finished album to Eno, a bold choice of collaborator. Though his work on David Byrne's My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts (Sire, 1981) pioneered the use of world music, Eno's involvement with African styles has been tangential. But he presented Seun and Egypt 80 at Sydney's Luminous Festival in 2009, and at the UK's Brighton Festival in 2010, and calls their music "the biggest, wildest, livest music on the planet." He's done that music proud. Seun talked about Eno's contribution to the album in Part 18 of Afrobeat Diaries.

Production aesthetics apart, Rise differs from Fela's blueprint most obviously in track playing times, which are shorter, averaging six and half minutes, requiring concise rather than extended instrumental solos. And Seun's delivery is, in a different sense, also compressed. He sings about the same subject matter as his father—government corruption and incompetence; state-sponsored violence and other abuses of power; the impoverishment of the majority of Africa's citizens; the malign influence of multi-national companies—for all these things continue to blight the continent. But Seun's delivery is more consistently intense than that of Fela, who, even at his most coruscating, might inject a note of sardonic, hipster cool. Decades on, with much of Africa in at least as bad a state as it was in Fela's day, Seun's urgency and anger are understandable.

The lyrics are evisceratingly direct; well crafted and with Seun beginning to evince more of the rhetorical gifts of his father. "Mr Big Thief" observes how Nigeria's ruling kleptocracy is protected by a corrupt police force and a malleable judiciary, just like any other major crime family; while "You Can Run" warns the guilty that justice will find them one day. "For Dem Eye" relates how Africans have been stripped of self-respect by the venal, often thuggish, behavior of their rulers; a class no different from the "Slave Masters" of an earlier age. "African Soldier" is about "retired" military autocrats who continue to control events from behind the cloak of civilian government. "Rise," the steadiest track on an otherwise scorchingly paced disc , is a call for revolution as explicit as any written by Fela.

A final seal of authenticity is given by Ghariokwu Lemi's cover artwork. Lemi designed many of Fela's most memorable album sleeves, and his work has become even richer, and more nuanced, over the years. There are actually two versions of the front cover design. That to be used on the US CD—due for release on Knitting Factory Records in June, 2011 (and pictured here)—will show a cannabis symbol on Seun's jacket. To comply with French law, the European cover has replaced that symbol with the words "good leaf." Both releases, however, close with the track "The Good Leaf," in which Seun extols the benefits of weed and demands its legalization.

Like father, like son. It is, indeed, almost too good to be true. From Africa With Fury: Rise is a blinder.

Postscript: Lekan Animashaun, The New Champion. Baritone saxophonist Harry Carney famously played in pianist and composer Duke Ellington's orchestra for 45 years, and, until 2011, Carney held the record for length of unbroken service in one band. Moving the goalposts slightly, to count bands led by Fela and Seun as a single entity, gives us a new record holder, and, coincidentally, he's another baritone saxophonist. Lekan Animashaun has been part of the Kuti family's music for 46 years. He joined Fela's Koola Lobitos in 1965, stayed with him through the formation and eventual breakup of Afrika 70 and the founding of Egypt 80, and continues to be Egypt 80's bandleader in 2011, as he approaches his 71st birthday. He was featured on alto saxophone on Many Things and is heard on keyboards on From Africa With Fury: Rise. Afrobeat, thanks in part to its roots in Yoruba culture, values the wisdom which comes with age.

Read the full article at allaboutjazz.com.

Seun Kuti: The sun always shines

Afrobeat bandleader Seun Kuti shares his views on politics, Egypt 80 and the long shadow cast by his father

Over the course of a one-hour interview, Seun Kuti talks – engagingly, entertainingly, animatedly, often hilariously – about a range of subjects. He talks about religion ("Do I believe in God? Of course not! Don't be stupid!"), about his love of Arsenal ("We need a few taller players"), about working with Brian Eno ("A musical genius. He is not Brian Eno for nothing"), about spending time in Paris ("Can I speak French? Not much. Enough for the ladies"), and about events in the Middle East ("The west will make fools of themselves in Libya, mark my words").

He also, inevitably, talks about his father. Seun (pronounced Shay-oon, an abbreviation of Oluseun), is the youngest son of the late, great Fela Kuti, and the one seen as Fela's anointed successor. He first guested on stage with his father aged eight (at the Harlem Apollo, of all places) and inherited Fela's Egypt 80 big band at the age of 14 when his father died.

When he tours the UK later this month, Kuti, 27, will be fronting a band who've been going, in various iterations, for nearly half a century, and still feature a dozen survivors from when Fela fronted them. "My baritone saxophonist Lekan Animashaun celebrates 46 years with the band this year," says Kuti, proudly. "We have musicians in their 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s. Lekan is 71. In fact, I am the youngest member of the band!"

Tough and wiry, with a premature widow's peak, a straggly attempt at a beard and a fondness for strutting around the stage naked to the waist, he could probably pass for his father (although he's a much better saxophone player). He was offered the lead role in Fela! – the musical that took the West End and Broadway by storm – but turned it down. "It would just give ammunition to those who say I am copying my father."

Kuti struck out on his own at the age of 19, when he put Egypt 80 on hold and went to England, like his father did, to study popular music and sound technology at the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts. "For the first time it put me among my peers. I realised I was pretty good at what I did."

What kind of music did he play in Liverpool? "All sorts. Rock, hip-hop, soul. Stevie Wonder covers. Blondie covers. I played with an African funk band called River Niger. We did a version of Paranoid Android by Radiohead." He cackles. "Man, you should have heard that!

"My initial idea was to make it in another genre, like hip-hop or reggae. I didn't want to be continually compared to my dad. Then I realised that was the coward's way out. I could be a really good Afrobeat star in my own right."

He is the youngest of Fela's children, all of whom were fathered with different women. There is talk of a rift between him and his eldest brother, Femi, who has also pursued a singing career. "It's not that there is any big rift, it's just a generational thing. Femi is 22 years older than me. We get on well, we talk a lot, especially about music, but we don't have much in common." He is closer to a half-sister, who is only six days his senior. "It was an unorthodox family life, no mistake," he smiles. "And my dad was not a conventional man."

Kuti paints a vivid picture of life on the Kalakuta Republic, the compound where Fela, his band, his dancers, the mothers of his children and sometimes up to 300 other people would live.

"There was no such thing as an average day. My father kept an open-door policy. Anyone could come in or out. We had ex-convicts, killers, doctors, lawyers, professors, electricians, plumbers, as well as many musicians. For many, their lives had gone off the rails. My dad would give these people a job and some money.

"There was real equality. I'd mix with everyone, and learn what they did. It was a great education, better than any university on earth. There was a market where women would sell alcohol and marijuana. Occasionally someone famous, like Shabba Ranks, would drop by with his posse. It was always uptempo, always exciting."

He remembers many occasions where Nigerian police and military would raid the home. "One time, a car pulled up, four dudes rolled out and started firing machine guns at the house. Five people died. My father survived. He was asleep on the floor of his room."

Depressingly, Nigeria is still run by the same People's Democratic Party elite bequeathed by Olusegun Obasanjo, the military leader who clashed with Fela in the 1970s. Kuti has refused to back any candidates in Nigeria's forthcoming elections (regarding them all as "self-interested frauds") and is pessimistic about any hopes of progress. "Every African country is governed by a dictator mentality," he says. "They give the west their big cuts, they get their own kickbacks, they make money for themselves, they leave the country impoverished, they feel that everything is OK. They are protected."

Kuti's new album, From Africa With Fury: Rise (recorded in Brazil and produced in London with Afrobeat obsessive Brian Eno), pulls no punches. There are attacks on the military, on dictators, on neocolonialists, on multinationals such as Monsanto and Halliburton, and – for light relief – a hymn of praise to marijuana called The Good Leaf. Kuti has said he'd like to become Nigerian president one day, even trying to register his own political party, Movement of the People (Nigeria's ruling elite stopped him, believing – correctly as it turns out – that he was planning to lead an uprising). Is that still an ambition?

"The problem is that if I was president, I wouldn't be able to criticise myself. I would like to have more of an advisory role." Does he have any hope that the Arab spring uprisings could spread to sub-Saharan Africa?

"That rebel leader in Benghazi, don't you think his English is a little too ... sublime?" he says, slyly.

That's an outrageous slur! It sounds like a piece of pro-Gaddafi propaganda. "No, not at all," he says. "In fact, Gaddafi invited me to play for him, in Libya. Unlike your Prince Andrew, I said no. Ha ha! I don't consort with dictators. But I am on the side of the Libyan people.

"And some of them support Gaddafi. Does that mean the RAF should kill them? No. You have to remember that in Libya people get social security. You tell people in Nigeria this, they go crazy!"

So you are opposed to military intervention?

"Listen, blood is shed in revolution. That is why revolution is sacred. And the west must not interfere in this process. I approve of a no-fly zone, but the west has gone too far. Anyway, why isn't there a no-fly-zone in Côte d'Ivoire? Laurent Gbagbo is at least as bad as Gaddafi. Why no intervention in Yemen? Bahrain? Saudi Arabia? All over?"

I suggest to Kuti that the great rock frontman has a touch of the dictator about him. Both control audiences, command fear and loyalty, create hysteria ...

"Yes, there is some truth in that. The difference is that people actually like singers."

Are you as dictatorial a bandleader as your father? Do you fine your bandmembers when they make mistakes?

"I threaten them with that, but I forget to collect the money," he sighs. "I shout when they play a wrong note, but they all know my bark is worse than my bite. That is one reason I must stop smoking weed. It makes you very forgetful. Ha ha."

guardian.co.uk, Article written by John Lewis, published on April 2011

Seun Kuti - From Africa With Fury: Album reviews

Reviews

How times change. Fela Kuti would probably have put out around 10 albums in the time that has passed between his son Seun’s first and second international releases. But in almost every other way, Seun is continuing his father’s legacy.

Most obviously he’s still using Fela’s band Egypt 80 as his own. The sleeve design by Lemi Ghariokwu (whose chaotically busy, subversive art graced around half of Fela’s albums) is another conscious echo – even if the inadequate detail afforded by the tiny CD format underlines its limitations when compared with the old 12" vinyl covers. Seun has even taken on his dad’s ‘Anikulapo’ moniker, which means "he who carries death in his pouch". He’s also adopted more of Fela’s vocal mannerisms, and as the title of this confident new album suggests, his lyrics are just as concerned with "kicking against the pricks".

And in Nigeria, as in the rest of Africa (see Ivory Coast, Libya, Zimbabwe) it’s very much a case of new pricks, but old tricks, as the striking opener African Soldier spells out in a fiery tirade against former soldiers who become dictators for 20, 30, or even 50 years. Penned by Rilwan Fagbemi, it’s a lean and muscular update of the Afrobeat template, setting the pace of this largely up-tempo record, which only really slows down on its epic centrepiece/title-track Rise. This finds Seun railing against multinational oil and diamond companies as well as Mosanto (sic) and Halliburton. The other standout track is Mr Big Thief, mainly for the snappy interplay between Seun’s alto sax and the brass section, as well as his sharp vocal sparring with the female chorus singers.

Brian Eno has long been an enthusiastic champion of Afrobeat, so he’s an appropriate choice as co-producer (with John Reynolds and Seun himself) although it’s not easy to hear any radical departures instigated by Brand Eno that really distinguish it from the fine work of Martin Meissonnier on Seun’s 2008 debut, Many Things. However, Seun is singing with more confidence – or perhaps, authority – and Egypt 80 are firing on all cylinders.

The album is not without filler, with Slave Masters and For Dem Eye making rather less of an impression. Some may find the relative lack of slower tempos a disappointment, but dancers may well disagree. Overall, then, From Africa With Fury: Rise is a pretty solid second effort.

bbc.co.uk

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Youngest son of Afrobeat firebrand Fela, Seun Kuti has succeeded where most celebrity offspring fail, succesfully updating his father's musical legacy. It helps he inherited a brilliant band, Egypt 80, but Seun has added his own generational voice. On his second album, Afrobeat's loping rhythms are tautened for the digital age, while staccato guitars and intricate horns are laced with electronica (courtesy Brian Eno among others). Seun is a gruffer, less persuasive singer than Fela, but his songs sting just as strongly. Decrying Nigeria's plight, he sings of "Monsanto and Halliburton [which] use their food to make my people hungry". Protest music for modern times.

guardian.co.uk

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Seun Kuti has always had two problems. He has had to battle against continual comparisons with his legendary father Fela (hardly surprising, since he based his early career on a stage performance in which he looked and sounded like his late dad's clone), and he has had to watch the success of Fela's oldest son, Femi. The UK has been blitzed with Fela nostalgia in recent months, with the success of the Fela! stage show and the rerelease of all his back catalogue. Now it's Seun's turn to show whether he can take Afrobeat to a new level. He succeeds – but with a lot of help from others. For a start, there's his band, which includes legendary Nigerians such as band leader and keyboard player Lekan Animashaun, who played with Fela. And there's the production team of John Reynolds and Brian Eno, who have updated the style with a new edge and attack, and the occasional hint of electronica. This is an album that's memorable for its slick, rousing instrumental work, which includes Seun's own saxophone contributions. His new songs attack predictable targets, but at least he is beginning to find his own voice.

guardian.co.uk

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Alarm bells went off when I learnt that Brian Eno was co-producer of Seun Kuti’s second album. The last thing the son of the legendary Fela Kuti needed was his personal brand of Afrobeat to be given a distancing sheen, or diluted by some space-age Enoesque sound effects. But it’s easy to forget that Eno isn’t only Mr Ambient – he also produced the groundbreaking Afrobeat-influenced work of Talking Heads in the late 1970s.

In fact, Eno once stated that the muscular free-flow of African music lies at the route of even his most ambient compositions. Well, here is the proof that such an ostensibly tenuous connection cannot be sniffed at. For Eno - along with co-producers John Reynolds and Seun himself - have created one of the best Afrobeat albums since Fela Kuti himself left us in 1997. From Africa With Fury: Rise is like Fela in concentrated form. With tracks lasting a mere eight minutes - rather than the half-hour the great man himself sometimes meandered on for - this is good news. And Fela’s old band, Egypt 80, whom Seun inherited, are almost frightening in their sinuous, marshalled precision. Beats seem spot-riveted into place, snare drum thwacks are machine-gunned out in ferocious clusters, brass riffs cross-hatch the ongoing flow, and Seun himself delivers his best vocals to date from his father’s pulpit of Righteous African Outrage: “Our ear don’t fool for your words, our stomach still empty”.

But Afrobeat is sometimes at its most beguiling when it goes off on a tangent, so one of the best tracks here is the sublime “Rise”, a slow, mournful number built around a doomy rock guitar riff. Seun – conjuring Fela’s gift for the telegraphed slogan – sings, “I cry for my country when I see it in the hands of these people”. This is a ferociously focused album that sets my pulse racing every time I play it.

theartsdesk.com

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Afrobeat is a vibrant, living music – and there’s no group better equipped to express it than the Black President’s own band, Egypt 80, who pulse through the seven long tracks like it was 1980 all over again. They’ve been playing together for decades – and it shows, as they’re as tight as a duck’s proverbial.

Seun Kuti takes the reins and pulls no punches, his ferocious vocals pinning to the ground the miscreants who have raped his native Nigeria for decades. But it’s the rolling, throbbing music which snaps you to attention track after track. Mr Big Thief starts off with snappy percussion and banked brass before levelling out with outstanding solos and, of course, Kuti putting the corrupt politicians in their place. Rise is a slow, deep cry for food for the impoverished masses and For Dem Eye is almost hypnotic in its insistent rhythm, while The Good Leaf decries hard drug use and extols the virtues of ganja to a blasting brass and scatting Seun soundtrack.

This is what Afrobeat is all about – and it’s the album Fela’s fans have been waiting for since his sad death in 1997.

recordcollectormag.com






Tracklist

01. African soldier
02. You can run
03. Mr. big thief
04. Rise
05. Slave masters
06. For dem eye
07. The good leaf
08. Giant of Africa (only vinyl)

Seun Kuti Is Not Fela

There’s nothing as refreshing as a live performance after weeks of inundating your soul with deejay fare. And so it was with excitement that I made my way into Terrakulture two Saturdays ago, to see Seun Anikulapo Kuti perform. I was surprised – pleasantly though – to see that it was a modest crowd; my pleasure an upshot of that snobbish, self-congratulatory attitude native to fans of ‘niche’ music.

(At least a third of the audience was white, which is to be expected; Afrobeat is arguably Nigeria’s most successful cultural export – to the West). After spending the previous night in overcrowded nightclubs dancing to songs that encouraged me to ‘ginger the swagger’ (or perhaps that should be ‘swagger the ginger’), it was a relief to listen to something different, and to do it with so much dancing space around me. Fate had no choice As I stood there and danced and watched Seun, I couldn’t help thinking how much he dwelt in the shadow of his legendary father. Let’s even attempt to forget the striking physical resemblance for a second, and focus instead on the art. For one, he inherited his father’s Egypt 80 band, led by Baba Ani, Fela’s longtime sidekick. At the time of Fela’s death, Seun was only fourteen, and one of the more recent members of the Egypt 80 band. All he knew, and played, was Fela’s music. His mother was also a band member, one of Fela’s dancers, further evidence of how much his life was circumscribed by the Fela sound. If we therefore assumed that Fate was compelled to make a choice regarding which of the sons would be the direct inheritor of the Afrobeat legacy, we would quickly realize that Fate actually didn’t have a choice. There was only one ‘direct’ successor – Seun. The other son had long wandered off, a talented prodigal. Seun dutifully took over his father’s band, and carried on from where Fela left off. For years he satisfied audiences with his father’s songs. It wasn’t until a decade after Fela’s death that he released his debut album. By the time Fela died, Seun’s elder brother, Femi, had already been playing his own music – not Fela’s – for a decade. Femi broke off from his father’s band in 1988 to launch his own band, Positive Force, an action didn’t go down well with Fela. For years the father refused to speak to his first son. Eventually though, he came to accept Femi’s music, and appeared to resign himself to the fact that his son had to make his own way in the world. By the time of his death in 1997, Femi had released three albums. However much Femi’s sound was influenced by his father, it was distinctly Femi’s, a departure from the raw anger of Fela’s compositions.

A terrible burden You can’t watch Seun perform and not see Fela’s mischievous spirit hovering low over the band. That Saturday night, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that perhaps a good number of those present that day were actually there to see Fela perform; that it was Fela who played in their heads and pranced about on stage. I wondered how it must be for Seun, bearing the burden of Fela, unable to cast it aside, yet eager to be his own man and create his own sound. For while Fela was a creation of the Age of highlife and funk (and Black renaissance philosophy), Seun (apart from the Afrobeat inevitably in his DNA) is of the Age of hip-hop and rap and Facebook. Seun must have realized the sad truth that it is much easier for a hip-hop act to attempt to stray into Afrobeat (as D’Banj did early on in his career) than for Fela’s torchbearer to attempt the reverse journey. The burden of maintaining the sound the world came to love Fela for would prove too much a hindrance. It must be a terrible burden. For those who want Seun to be Fela, he will not quite measure up to the mark. For those who don’t want him to be his father, he will seem too much so. Yabis time Seun, mic in hand, did not fail to treat us to a session of ‘yabis’ – a creation of his father, in which he would break from music to pontificate on politics and current affairs and sundry matters, and rail against dictators and Big Men (For many fans, the yabis was as important as the music). “Seun should stop trying to do yabis and play his music instead,” a friend complained that Saturday. “He is not Fela…” Listening to Seun’s yabis that Saturday night I realized that it was less yabis than yabis-aspiring standup comedy, perhaps evidence of his realization that today’s Nigerians would rather pay to laugh at their country’s ironies than to rage at them.

Once, during a show at the Bar Beach in Lagos, it is said that Fela ordered that the 7-Up flag fluttering in the wind be pulled down, because it was a symbol of capitalist oppression. It seems unlikely that his son would ever do that – not when one of his band members proudly donned an Arsenal jersey. The theme of Seun’s yabis that Saturday night was satellite television (which one imagines his father, were he alive, would have boasted he never watched). Interestingly, he also took a dig at standup comedy, boasting that his jokes were not of the Night-of-a-Thousand-Laughs sort. Fela on Playback? No doubt, anyone who came to see Fela would have been a tad disappointed. Which would have been their fault, not Seun’s, since Seun is not Fela, was never meant to be Fela, and will only be shortchanging himself, and us, if he ever imagined he was. But then again the onstage ‘Fela On Broadway’ banner which provided a backdrop for his three dancers might have only succeeded in inspiring unfair comparisons with Fela’s much larger, far more raucous chorus. Seun ended the performance with Fela fare, which drove the audience into a frenzy, propelling them to within touching distance of Seun. Even Seun himself seemed more animated than before. Fela was in our midst. Or was he?


questionmarkmag.com, published April 2010

The Day Seun Kuti Stormed Helsinki

During the autumn of every year, Helsinki city celebrates Helsinki day, a celebration that features well planed cultural activities of various types spread over one month. During the celebration many international artistes of repute were often billed to perform and in this year’s celebration, our own Seun Kuti and Fela’s Egypt 80 was one of them. I almost missed the show. A yearly happening like the Helsinki Day celebration does not get detailed advertisement. One has to seek information about the schedule and pick dates and activities one is interested in. I was too busy and forgot the date for the gig as I knew already he was on the bill. One can then imagine my joy when my phone started ringing on the evening of Saturday the 16th day of August. First it was Chudi, ‘Ol’boy where you dey’? I could hear a lot of voices in the background, then Olu. Luckily I was within shot to the venue, and most of all I was in the studio rounding up my Saturday broadcast. I quickly packed up my field kit, recorder, video, still camera etall, and headed to the Hakaniemi beach park, the venue of the concert.

Approaching the parking lot, I could already hear the unmistaken pulsating sound of afrobeat renting the air. Man, was I excited? As I walked through security, a fine lady in security outfit stood there. I smiled at her and even patted her on the shoulder as I danced my way to the entrance of a large tent, venue of the concert. The place was already jam-packed with happy faces and I managed to squeeze my way to the front row, smiling to every face that turned my way, and getting in return broad genuine smiles, a good sign that we are all in for a great evening of fun.

The show was just starting; Fela’s Egypt 80 band was playing the intro with the baritone sax player, Showboy Adedimeji leading the pack upfront, so I have not missed a thing. It was a great pleasure to see the faces of these guys again, the Egypt 80, some of whom had been with Seuns celebrated father of blessed memory, Fela Anikulakpo Kuti (Abamieda), from the days of his early musical carrier, talk of someone like Tajudeen Animasahun (Baba Ani).

The Power of Afrobeat

The power of afrobeat is undisputable. When I started out here on Radio City Helsinki, Finland’s pioneer commercial station in 1989, I clustered the airwave with a myriad of African and Caribbean music genre, and of course, afrobeat was top in my play list. Being the first time hearing an African voice, telling African stuff on Finnish airwave, the reaction from the listeners was magnificent. I remember a caller who told me that when he was a young school leaver in the70s, he went on inter-rail trip, as it is common with European youths, to familiarize himself with the rest of Europe. While in Berlin he saw a poster of Fela’s concert, and for some reason decided to go and see what it was all about, though he had never heard about Fela before. He got to the venue, and after the show according to him, did not continue with his original inter rail travel itinerary, rather he followed Fela and his band’s concert schedule until he ran out of cash and decided it was time to go home. I got to know this guy in person later, and I was amazed by his collection of Afrobeat. He had almost everything Fela ever produced. Such is the power of afrobeat.

In my youth days, I had my first job after secondary school at Lagos. It lasted for one year before I got a place to further my education, and I spent almost every weekend of that year at the shrine. That was in 1974. I sat almost on the same spot in the front row on Fridays, (yabis night), and Sartudays (Comprehensive show). I remember one occasion when I almost broke the rule of ‘no movement’ during the comprehensive show, when Fela goes to do the rituals of offerings in the shrine. He had just finished announcing the commencement of the ritual, with the usual warning that none should move when I emerged from the men’s room heading towards my usual seat, almost in front of him. He pointed towards me and said “una siiam,see dis one, no be de tin I jus dey tök now, dis one….” I quickly raised a black power sign and shouted Babao!. He smiled and said “ hm, una no sometin, dis guy, efry weekend, na for dis same conner him dey tanda, abi u buy dat chair, anyway sha, because of dat I forgive you” and the audience applauded. That was when I realized that he took notice of me, and men, did that feel good?

My retro on Fela while the subject is Seun is not in digression; I say this because seeing Seun felt a little bit like bringing Fela back to life. I guess this had more to do with their striking physical resemblance. Also his moves and the fact that the band is Fela’s Egypt 80 sealed the whole thing. It was my first encounter with Seun. I was involved in Femi Kuti’s first visit to Finland in 1997 for the World Village Festival. During the fest, I was their official host. But for Seun, all I knew about him was from what I got on the net, and had wished to see him perform live. My wish came through during this concert.

The Show

After the band delivered a couple of their repertoire, the band’s baritone sax player, Adedimeji Fagbemi (Showboy) announced Seun, and the crowed of over a thousand people went wild. Seun after greeting the crowed went into business, first delivering the song titled ‘Many things’ a song that highlighted the poor condition of things in Africa, and Nigeria in particular. He went on to the delight of the audience to deliver more of their powerful and polyrhythmic repertoire that Afrobeat is noted for. He sang songs like ‘don’t give that shit’, Fire dance, etc. One of the climaxes was when he did one of Fela’s old songs ‘Suffering and smiling’. The few Nigerians at the venue were as over excited as I was, we were all wriggling to the rhythm. Many people were sited at the beginning of the show, but when the place became supper charged, and the spirit of Afrobeat took over, everyone jumped unto their feet, dancing to the rhythm of the beat. It was one great feeling, one great night to relish.

When the band ended their last repertoire, the crowed refused to bulge. They applauded for a very long time, and when it seemed the band wasn’t coming back, some people started leaving the venue. But suddenly there was a loud roar, and a mad rush as people ran back to the tent. Alas the band was back for an extra.

Backstage

At the end of the gig, I found my way backstage to comhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifmiserate with Seun and the boys. It was a happy moment for all of us. What interested me most was the simplicity exhibited by the entire crew. Seun had time for everyone, cracking jokes, hugging and shaking hands; giving photo opportunity to anyone who dared to ask. I used the opportunity to chat with the old hands of the band. One of them told me it was a good thing that they were able to keep the band together after Fela passed. According to him, they were worried about their future, but luckily they had Seun whom he called their boy, because he had always been there with them right from when he was a little boy. I was very happy that I did not miss the show, and I am sure that everyone that was there had a great time. This is proved by messages I saw on Seun and the bands site on Myspace, one of which read.

nigeriavillagesquare.com, written by Ikechukwu Ude-Chime

The Afrobeat Diaries ... by allaboutjazz.com (Pt.XVIII)

by Chris May, allaboutjazz.com

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Part 18 - Seun Kuti talks about From Africa With Fury: Rise

Seun Kuti's From Africa With Fury: Rise, the follow-up to the ferocious Many Things (Tot Au Tard, 2008), is under starter's orders—and Afrobeat Diaries' sneak preview attests that it's a monster, a stone delight of epic proportions.

Produced by Brian Eno with John Reynolds and Kuti, with additional input from dub wizard Godwin Logie, the new album features Fela Kuti's son once more fronting Egypt 80 under the leadership of veteran saxophonist Lekan Animashaun, its founding bandleader, whose time with Fela stretched back to the pioneering years of Afrika 70 and, before that, Koola Lobitos in the mid 1960s.

From Africa With Fury: Rise was originally slated for release on Knitting Factory Records in June 2011, but may now be brought forward to April. Watch this space.

Meanwhile, here are some of Seun's thoughts about the album.....

"I wanted to do something completely different," says Seun. "Not different by trying to be American or European with my sound, just trying to make a very different album from my last album. My last album, it was my first time in control, I was not as confident as in saying what I wanted. This time, I said, 'Okay, I can be more confident in how I express myself, I can say what I want, be as complex as I want.'"

Seun is effusive about his co-producers. "Brian Eno is 'Brian Eno' for a reason. He has a great mind when it comes to music. He adds new dimensions to the sound. He showed me new ways of opening up the sound I'd never have thought of on my own. Not to downplay the work of John Reynolds, who is an incredible producer. I'm really glad I had them work on the album."

Despite the studio craftsmanship, Seun sees the recording process as a means to an end, a way of capturing his music for posterity. "Afrobeat has to go from stage to studio, not studio to stage," he says. "I don't believe in going into the studio to write songs. You create music in the world, outside, in the environment. You create music with nature, not in the studio. You go to the studio to record, that's it. Music created in the studio is commercial music, music that only wants to sell, that has nothing to do with the world.

"What inspires me is the time that I live in," Seun says. "Basically what is happening today in Africa are the same things that were happening 40 years ago, when my father was songwriting, but they're happening in different ways. So when I write my music, it's from the perspective of a 27-year-old man living in 2011, instead of a 30-year-old man living in the 1970s."

Despite this, Seun finds himself having to challenge many of the same injustices Fela fought back in the day, from exploitative multi-nationals to militaristic kleptocrats to the futile war on drugs. Among the album's unequivocal battle cries is "Rise," in which Seun encourages listeners to fight "the petroleum companies" that "use our oil to destroy our land," "the diamond companies" that "use our brothers as slaves for the stone," and "companies like Monsanto and Halliburton" which "use their food to make my people hungry." But where Fela's work often featured an explicit call to revolution, Seun's goal is subtler. He sees his role as that of an educator, speaking truth to power in order to provoke debate.

"In Africa today, most people are struggling in silence," Seun says. "The systematic oppression of the people has made them blinded to their reality. Everybody's just thinking about survival. Nobody wants to stand up for anything, everybody just wants to tow the line. So I'm trying to make people think about these things that they are forgetting. I want to inspire people to want things to change.

"Music has great impact on people's feelings," Seun concludes. "That's what music should be. Pop music today is all about me, me, me. Nobody is singing about we. But nothing can change if we don't look out for our brothers and sisters."

From Africa With Fury: Rise will make history. Afrobeat's DNA is intact.