MUSIC
The OkayAfrica Shop is stocking up a four-LP compilation made up of some of the Afrobeat pioneer’s greatest recordings.
Fela Kuti made timeless music. That much is clear, given the reverence he earned during his career and after he died in 1997, as well as the contemporary movement of Afrobeats that continues to pay homage to the iconic musician. He made many great songs, which have been collected, presented, and sampled in different forms over the years.
With ‘Best Of The Black President,’ the Fela Kuti mythos is soaring on even deeper cultural and sonic ties. This is the first time Fela’s definitive compilation will be available on vinyl, sold in the OkayAfrica shop. It comes in a colorful boxset; the individual LPs are coated in blue, green, red, and yellow, and the cover is a hardback book jacket-type, with printed sleeves providing more information on the 26-track compilation.
As with any collected work, we meet different iterations of the Afrobeat legend in these vinyls. There is the Fela of the fiery classics, who set fire and brimstone to authoritative establishments. One also finds the softer Fela, the lover boy whose grooves reflected the easy motions of attraction.
In this list, we explore some of the more notable records on the ‘Best of the Black President’ compilation.
“Lady”
“Lady” often comes into the first row of classic Fela songs, and for good reason. Beyond its enchanting writing, whose exploration gives it a potential meaning that’s open to all, there’s a fine musicality here. Its insistent groove and trumpets mirror a defiance, charged by the sonic accomplishments — the drums, percussion, and the keyboards — all over the seams of the record. “Lady” reminds us of what a gifted composer Fela Kuti was, one whose ear was influenced by the layered, colored rhythms of the Lagos he grew up in.
“Roforofo Fight”
Fela Kuti was a master dramatist. One could place his genius within the ranks of Ola Rotimi and Wole Soyinka, whose literary insights pierced open a world where traditional ideas mixed freely with modernism. “Roforofo Fight” plays out like the title suggests, with the instrumentation made to clash against each other with almost frightening speed. Right from its opening movement, the intensity and pace of the rhythm is charged by intent — the auteur vision of Kuti. With records like these, Fela evokes the primary characteristic of a people and their place in the world.
“Gentleman”
Humor and storytelling are two elements found in almost every Fela record. The man knew that to receive difficult truths, one had to present them in a way that first moved the audience to laugh. It was only after laughing that one would realize the precariousness of their situation. “Gentleman” uses this awareness to great effect; it’s one of the most-loved Fela songs, since it satirizes the damaging influence of the Western world on the African mind — and does it well. From dressing to eating, style and language, Fela spares no punches in his technical affront charged by his typical sonic elements. But one notices the groove is even more calmly placed, achieving an internal serenity which helps his fiery writing the space to shine.
“O.D.O.O. (Edit Version)”
“Soldier go, soldier come,” sings the backup voices as a choral refrain to Fela Kuti’s charged lyrics. During Fela’s reign in the 1980s and 1990s as the unofficial leader of Lagos’ cultural scene and by extension the Nigerian music architecture, the military regime held a strong grasp on political affairs. Soldiers were often the heads of state, and because he didn’t agree with their methods and vision, he documented his clashes with them on wax. Perhaps no other song did he sound angrier about Nigerian realities than on “O.D.O.O.,” where he shelved musical build-up and went straight into his concerns. It’s possibly his most lyrical song, proof of his skill as a writer. Even interpolating other records like “Shuffering and Smiling” and “Unknown Soldier,” it’s a vivid recollection by one man detailing his efforts against bad leadership.
“Coffin For Head of State”
There’s an entire lore wrapped into the creation of this song. Spurred by the infamous accident involving his mother and the Nigerian soldiers who threw her off a building, it’s not quite as direct as “Unknown Soldier,” or as psychologically haunting as “Sorrow Tears and Blood.” Fela engages the literary device of the build-up, using his roving legs and eyes (“I waka waka waka, I see my people”) to show the subtle imbalances that are prevalent all across Nigerian societies. From religion to tribal preferences, he reveals the “Coffin For Head of State” as an object way greater than a mere coffin; rather, it’s the consciousness of an entire people placed with all its weight on political actors, who have tweaked things for their own good. We’re reminded that Fela’s artistry transcends musical genius. We see how he stood to become that voice screaming in the dark, using all his energy to pull those willing into the light.
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‘ Some details of this article were extracted from the following source www.okayafrica.com ’
