Le Grand Début: La Musica En Vérité

Gnonnas Pedro, 1943-2004

Half French and half Spanish, "La Musica En Vérité" probably doesn't have an exact translation, and I can imagine Gnonnas Pedro, the song's author, needing more than a few sentences in English to convey all the nuance and meaning written into the phrase. But when we hear him sing those words, the emotion behind "La Music En Vérité" gives some shape to its message: nostalgic, boastful, regretful. The music only amplifies these feelings. Guitars chime in urgent patterns that rise and fall. An electric organ hums its somber response to the gently chanted choruses. Halfway through its seven minutes, the song simply becomes a long coda, looping the same musical phrase until it all slowly fades away, feeling like the ending to a dimly recalled film which now exists only in scratched black and white stills. 

Plaza Goita, Manila, Philippines

Listening to old records from distant nations is an exercise in abstraction. We're removed from the musicians by time, distance, language and culture, leaving sound itself as the one detail that translates easily. While sound is the essential component of music's appeal, the missing details impart a context of creation that can be equally compelling: who the musicians are, why they're recording this song, what message they're trying to impart, etc. In the absence of context, listeners tend to invent one based on their existing knowledge of music. When we listen to music from a different country, recorded decades earlier, and sung in a language we don't understand, the context we invent is prone to distortion by our preconceived, culturally informed notions of what and why music is. Thus the challenge in listening to a song like "La Musica En Vérité" is to imagine that we are hearing music itself for the first time. Consider Exotic/Invasive as a forum to share music while also exploring the myriad structures that shape how we listen to it.

Cote D'Ivoire, Photo by Andrea Bergart

What, too grad school for you? Don't sweat it. After all, while context is a crucial detail, music's power comes from its ability to bypass the brain, and crash directly into your soul and/or ass. Below you can peep the inaugural mix comprising a dozen of my favorite gems discovered over the past few years of listening to records and rummaging through blogs. The faithful reader can expect more tunes in the future. In the meantime, our regular programming will commence soon.

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0:00:00 

"La Murga de Panama" (1972)

Papi Brandao y Su Conjunto Aires Tablenos 

Panama! 2, Soundway Records, 2009

Willie Colón's salsa classic gets destroyed by this grimy rendition. As if the accordion groans and heavy beats weren't enough, somehow Papi Brandao actually manages to turn the heat up by pulling everything back during the breakdown and letting his guitarist politely tear it up on top of the percussion. According to the lyrics, the ladies look especially good dancing to this song. Believe it. 

0:03:03 

"O Telefone Toucou Novamente" (1970)

Jorge Ben 

Força Bruta, Four Men With Beards Records, 2009

Jorge Ben strikes a slick balance between that massive clatter of weird percussion, acoustic guitar strumming and string quartet sighs. Not understanding the lyrics very well, this song gives me the image of Ben getting tipsy at a phone booth late one rainy night, trying to pour out his heart to some mulher brasileira who keeps hanging up on him. Low on change, increasingly drunk/desperate, he calls one last time and bravely reaches up into his questionable falsetto range before a fat horn section finally shows up to drive him home. 

0:06:45 

"Hwehwe Mu Na Yi Wo Mpen" (1977)

K. Frimpong & His Cubano Fiestas 

K. Frimpong & His Cubano Fiestas, Continental Records, 2011

Serious dance floor dynamite. His Cubano Fiestas waste no time building an indestructible groove, the horns come out swinging, and then take turns strutting their stuff. K. Frimpong starts burning up the track with his fiery pipes, and just when you expect everything to start cooling down, a blazin' synthesizer jumps on the scene and blows the joint sky-high. Boom. 

0:14:31

"Thiely" (1979?)

Étoile De Dakar 

Golden Afrique, Network Medien, 2005 

This slow-burning mbalax number is deadly. Restrained but insistent percussion, the melodic call and response between Youssou N'Dour and El Hadji Faye flanked by dueling space guitars, and a mournful tone that would make Dick Cheney cry. Brutally gorgeous. Can't say who this Thiely lady is, but it's a safe bet that she crushed a few hearts in her day. 

0:18:35

"A La Memoria Del Muerto" (1972)

Fruko y Sus Tesos 

Colombia!, Soundway Records, 2007 

The secret weapon of Colombia's seminal label, Discos Fuentes, Fruko is straight-up taking a sledgehammer to the ivories on this track. No-nonsense percussion locks in a locomotive beat while the horns split high and low to weave a tight melody. From what I can make out of the lyrics, Fruko is simply letting you know that at his funeral, everyone better get bien borracho and cut a rug until the sun comes up. More tracks like this on the blaster, and it's a done deal.

0:22:54

"Ti Fa La Ou Te Madam" (1968?)

Anzala, Dolor, Velo 

Tumbélé!, Soundway Records, 2009 

A few goat-skin drums. Saxophone doubtlessly borrowed from one of Pointe-à-Pitre's black-tie jazz combos. A handful of singers. Amazingly, that's all it takes to summon up this unholy ruckus. Monsieur Dolor and his backup singers take turns riffing on the gorgeous vocal melody while Anzala and Velo thump out a thunderous beat. The song stomps along frantically while the saxophonist bides his time, honking gently until it's finally his turn to break into a wail.

0:28:10 

"Life's Gone Down Low" (1976)

The Lijadu Sisters 

The World Ends, Soundway Records, 2010 

So somber that it's practically a funeral march, the beat staggers forward at a heavily-stoned pace, leaving the instruments just enough slack to almost wander off. Guitars chip away at the two chords, the bass-line drops in on loan from Robbie Shakespeare, and the seasick organ punches and pulls the drums around. Unintimidated by the rickety groove, the twin Lijadu sisters hold on tight, harmonize gracefully, and reminds the listener that it's not too late. 

0:32:51

"Greetings" (1978)

Joni Haastrup 

Nigeria 70, Strut Records, 2001 

Kicking off with the dramatic call and response announcement of the king's approach to a bumpin' Lagos nightclub, His Imperial Majesty Joni Haastrup explodes through the doors with an entourage of fat horns, ethereal electric piano, and angry cricket-chirp guitars, his booming voice carried up above the crowded dance floor. A slew of different instruments sneak in through back to shine beneath the mirror balls for a hot second before the king gets back on the mic to bring that royal rumpus to a close. 

0:39:01

"It's a Vanity" (1974)

Gabo Brown and Orchestre Poly-Rhythmo 

African Scream Contest, Analog Africa, 2008 

Operating in straight funk mode, the Almighty Poly-Rhythmo arrives fully equipped with a tumbling bass line, typewriter guitar pulse, horn squawks, saucy organ grooves, and funky percussion. Soul man Gabo Brown grabs the mic to deliver the sassy crooning and smirking wag o' the finger lyrics. The band is smoldering, playing fiercely with a masterful restraint that allows Gabo plenty of room to scold the song's unlucky subject, tear up the stage and make the ladies swoon.

0:43:13

"Jab Chaye Mera Jaadu"(1980)

Asha Bhosle

Big disco beats? Check. Crashing fuzz guitars? Check. Jagged strings that swoop out of nowhere, sci-fi synth lines, and on top of all this, coy wailing courtesy of Asha-ji? Check, check, aaaaaand double-check. Hot-shot composer Rajesh Roshan crams pretty much everything that is awesome about music into this epic banger. Check out the song's big scene from the movie Lootmaar.

0:48:30

"Tey Gedyeleshem" (1973)

Alemayehu Eshete 

Ethiopian Urban Modern Music, vol. 2, L'Arome Productions, 2007 

The lo-fi Motown piano intro quickly gets obliterated by a killer drum fill, and the song kicks into a dirty jazz grind that would make The Funk Brothers tug at their collars awkwardly. Singer Alemayehu Eshete bobs and weaves on the track, twisting his voice skillfully around the piano and horn riff. While the band heats the groove to a boiling point, Eshete plays it cool, and then tears into the chorus with great vengeance and furious anger, casting out demons and knocking over white folks by the bleacherful. Good God! 

0:51:42

"La Musica En Vérité" (1979)

Gnonnas Pedro 

Legends of Benin, Analog Africa, 2009 

"Quand certains disaient que la musique ne nourrit pas son homme 

Mon verre n'est pas grand, mais depuis longtemps 

je bois toujous dans mon verre. 

Pour moi, la musique est toute ma vie." 

"When some say that music doesn't nourish man, 

my glass isn't big, 

but I'll drink from it for a long time. 

For me, music is my entire life."