315: Bana Congo, by Papa Noel & Papi Oviedo

Papa Noel & Papi Oviedo (DR Congo/Cuba)
Bana Congo (2002)
10 tracks, 54 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

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.

240: Hotel Univers, by Jupiter & Okwess International

Jupiter & Okwess International (DR Congo)
Hotel Univers (2013)
12 tracks, 43 minutes
Spotify ∙ Spotify ∙ iTunes

Jupiter & Okwess International (or Jupiter / Okwess as they have recently styled themselves) are an interesting ensemble. The eponymous Jupiter is Jupiter Bokondji, one of the most commanding frontmen I’ve ever seen. He’s incredibly striking: very tall, skinny and serious. Proper commanding, like. As the band’s name would imply, he is absolutely integral to the music and without him the band would be completely different. However, his impact on the sound-making of the group is surprisingly small. Sometimes he sing-talks his way through a song in his rich and rumbling bass voice, sometimes he plays traditional conga-like drums, but his main role is to be more of a presence. Just by being there he dictates the whole mood of the show, providing an incredibly valuable anchor from which the rest of the band can spiral high and wild with the reassurance that Jupiter is always there to bring things back to Earth at exactly the correct moments.

That’s the case for his live shows and his early recordings made in Kinshasa, at least. It’s slightly different on this record, Hotel Univers, his first ‘official’ and worldwide release. They get Jupiter upfront on most songs, which doesn’t necessarily take anything away at all, but it’s the music that will get you. Together, Jupiter & Okwess International create a really potent brew that comes from the evolutionary chain from Congolese rumba and soukous, but where those styles are bright and shiny, this music is dark. Not to say it is any less danceable, of course – it will have you up and moving and sweating until you’ve got nothing left, and then they’ll carry on. Into their mix they bring rock, funk and reggae, but what I think is most important is that even with this album, recorded in a proper studio, produced to Western tastes and with nice equipment, they still embody the sound of the streets of Kinshasa.

For more than 20 years, Jupiter & Okwess International played regularly around the Congolese capital, and this music is a fermentation of all of those performances. Their sound is soaked in the melodies of patched-up, hand-me-down and even homemade instruments, in improvised stages and in power-cuts, in political rallies and protests and in street kids spreading the word about their upcoming gigs. Their drummer’s rhythms were honed on a suitcase for a kick drum, a cowbell for a high-hat and a bushel of dried grass for a snare. Their music courses with deep influences from every single ethnic group that makes a home in that incredibly cosmopolitan city. Jupiter and his crew make music that is caked in the dust of the Kinshasa streets and is so much more powerful for that.

Hotel Univers is a great album that will give you a taste of what this band is all about, but there is no way it can compare to the intensity of a live show with its darkly heady music from Okwess International and overseen by the stern gaze of Jupiter himself. It’s then that they can fully take you on a journey to the beating heart of Kinshasa for just the wildest party you can imagine.

074: Très Très Fort, by Staff Benda Bilili

Staff Benda Bilili (DR Congo)
Très Très Fort (2009)
11 tracks, 59 minutes
Bandcamp • Spotify • iTunes (with extra tracks and videos)

There was quite a discussion within world music circles around Staff Benda Bilili. They were a global hit with a fantastically compelling story behind them: a group of musicians left paraplegic from polio, living on the streets of Kinshasa in specially-adapted motor-wheelchairs and practicing their music in the city’s zoo – they were a world music marketeer’s dream. But therein lies the debate: would they have been successful without that story?

Arguably not, but that says more about the problems of ‘world music’ than it does Staff Benda Bilili: they certainly deserved their fame on the strength of their music alone. It’s mostly a mix of Latin-inspired genres such as soukous, played on a bunch of ultra-cool semi-acoustic Socklo guitars (check them out), but whereas that description may bring to mind raucous party music, this album, their debut, is actually really delicate. There are lots of slower, more romantic-sounding pieces together with warm and gentle three-part harmonies and bits of feel-good reggae now and then. They do do party-mode sometimes – especially in live performances – but this record is much sweeter overall than that would suggest.

The real revelation of the album is Roger Landu. When the album was recorded, he was a 17-year-old street kid, playing his home-made and self-invented monochord, the satongé. Made from a paint can, a bent stick and some fishing wire with some jury-rigged amplification, it’s such a singular sound. It’s high-pitched and squeaky, rather bendy in its pitch and even slightly imprecise, but in Roger’s hands it can be the perfect melody instrument, especially when backed by the band’s twangy guitars. In Staff Benda Bilili’s second album, Roger got to show off his singing voice too, which is absolutely lovely, but he leaves vocal duties to his elders, here.

Unfortunately, the band split in 2013 due to internal arguments, paranoia over money and accusations of mismanagement, having made only one more album and conducted a handful of European tours. The group splintered apart into factions, and some of them formed part of the later group Mbongwana Star, but they never managed to reach the heights they’d hit after their first album. As far as I can tell, Roger Landu hasn’t appeared on any other international releases since, but a Facebook search shows that he’s still making music. Maybe we’ll get to hear it one day. I hope so.

012: Congotronics, by Konono No. 1

Konono No. 1 (DR Congo)
Congotronics (2004)
7 tracks, 51 minutes
Bandcamp · Spotify · iTunes

So it’s only the twelfth day of this one-album-a-day lark, picking an album at random out of an almost 365-strong list, and already you can see some patterns of my taste starting to come out. It would seem that I have a particular weakness for music based on continuous repetition – as seen in the albums of Kel Assouf, Donso and Laraaji so far. Here’s another one, and they take it to the next level.

The music of Konono No. 1 (for it is they) is, at the very heart of it, traditional music played for the modern day. It is based on the interlocking patterns used in the ritual trance music of the baZombo people from Angola and south-west Congo. This music, in Konono No. 1’s hands, is more or less the same, except played on likembé lamellaphones and all cranked through DIY, no-fi electronics. This was their debut full-length album, and it not only chucked the band into the international spotlight, but also created an entire Congotronics hype all itself, spawning a whole catalogue on Crammed Discs and influencing the sound of artists from Vampire Weekend to Björk to Batida.

The aesthetics of Congotronics is harsh – the amplification is distorted and noisy, the percussion is full of snares, rattles and cymbals. On top of that, the likembés are all tuned ever so slightly differently from one another, making the sound ‘beat’ against itself, which can be quite disorientating. Add in the fact that the music is almost entirely based on incredibly short passages – sometimes just one or two measures – repeated seemingly into infinity and slowly evolving through tiny variations, and this is music for deep trance. I once saw Konono No. 1 play an hour-and-fifteen set in three songs. If you’re not feeling it, you’re doomed. But when it clicks, it will fill your head and fly you away into a maelstrom of sound.

I like repetition! I like it, I can’t help it and Konono No. 1 are masters of it. And if you like repetition too, stick around: there will be more repetition here before long, I'm sure.