315: Bana Congo, by Papa Noel & Papi Oviedo

Papa Noel & Papi Oviedo (DR Congo/Cuba)
Bana Congo (2002)
10 tracks, 54 minutes
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For countries more than 6000 miles apart, the musics of the Congo and Cuba have been intertwined for a long, long time. Kongo people made up a significant percentage of Africans trafficked to Cuba as slaves, and due to the system of cabildos – ethnic institutions where slaves were separated by place of origin – elements of their languages, religions and music survived and continued to be passed down, and eventually became part of the internationally-influenced sound of Cuban popular music, most strikingly in the omnipresent conga drums. Cuban music also made its mark on the music of the Congo in return – son and rumba provided the root sounds of Congolese rumba lingala that itself became the basis of genres such as soukous and kwassa kwassa that have ruled Congolese popular music for almost 70 years, not to mention all of the other Africa-wide styles that have derived thereof.

It’s a bit unusual, then, given the long give-and-take relationship of the two countries and the modern world music scene’s eternal fascination with cross-cultural collaborations, how few direct meetings of Congolese and Cuban musicians have been committed to disc. Even stranger when you get an album like this one, in which the two countries’ styles are brought together with such apparent ease to wonderful results.

Bana Congo is a meeting of stalwart members from two legendary bands: Papa Noel, singer and guitarist in Franco Luambo’s TPOK Jazz from DR Congo, and Papi Oviedo, tres player of Orchestra Revé, a key group in Cuba’s changüí style, and featuring an ensemble of musicians from both countries. Both artists come from spheres totally indebted to each other in terms of their roots, and their work together here sounds completely natural. It’s not possible to listen to this album and pick out ‘oh that bit is taken from the Cuban side of things, that bit is Congolese,’ the musicians have met on a totally equal footing, and each made their own style subsume into the other, layering and tying them together into one.

The whole thing is so obvious, but that’s in no way a negative thing. Every track makes me think ‘of course!’ Of course these tracks are great, and engaging, and danceworthy. No matter what the mood, whether the beautifully romantic ‘Juliana’ or the title-track with a groove so dapper it could join the sappeurs, it all works so well because it’s made by brilliant musicians who know how to make each other’s styles work for themselves. The only surprising thing about the album is that it didn’t happen earlier…and that there hasn’t been any other such high-profile collaborations since. Cuba and Congo together again; this album was 500 years in the making, of course it’s such an exciting and joyful listen.