African Beat
Breakfast of Champions
Professor BC Boy’s Rhythm Review
ir Victor Uwaifo, Guitar-Boy Superstar
S 1970-76 (Soundway SNDWCD012)
In 1958, when I was 12 years old, an
L.A. band made up of couple of white surf-
guitar musicians and a trio of brothers—the Flores
brothers, whose family was originally from
Mexico—under the band name of the Champs,
put out a song called “Tequila,” written by Daniel
Flores. It was an instrumental with a hook, which
was a pure Arsenio Rodriguez sample (who knew
then?), that just knocked the City of Angels off its
collective seat. And as the chorus came round time
after time, Flores would shout out the one word—
“tequila” with such an infectious lust, it never
failed to put a smile on a listener’s face—the word
in and out of his mouth, and a punctuation of pure
joy to stop and start the beats another time. Na-
tionwide, “Tequila” was the number-one hit on
the charts, in between the reign of Elvis Presley’s
smoldering love hit, “One Night” (with you is all
I’m waiting for) and the Platters’ (heavenly shades
of night are falling, it’s) “Twilight Time.” Every-
where in the whole damn concrete, asphalt and
citrus-treed Southland and all along its beaches,
spread out under the sun and stars, in kitchens
and schoolyards, out car windows, when the cho-
rus surf guitar, Latino combo sound came round:
“Teh-kee-lah!”
In 1958, Victor Uwaifo was one year away from
entering St. Gregory’s College in Lagos, Nigeria,
where he would soon make a name for himself as
an athlete and a musician. In just a few years,
Uwaifo, who is now in his fourth decade as a gold-
record artist, musician, grad-school-trained and
nationally regarded sculptor, and informal and
formal minister of folkloric culture of Nigeria,
primarily Edo State (the home of the original
Benin Empire), would be playing one night when
a fan from the audience shouted out that he would
be her “guitar boy” if he didn’t run away. You can
see Uwaifo tell the story on an AOL video of his
hit, unsurprisingly titled “Guitar Boy.” After he
tells the story, he brags in the most fetching man-
ner how today he’s become a Guitar King, a Gui-
tar on Fire. And the video breaks into the song
with the neck of Uwaifo’s guitar literally in flames.
Another nice touch in this rather retro video is
when they cut from the band playing to a room
full of Uwaifo’s eccentric and eclectic sculptures.
Guitar-Boy Superstar 1970-76 covers the
“Ekassa” period of Uwaifo’s recording career.
Miles Cleret’s accompanying booklet intro to the
cd reports that Uwaifo “came up with a rhythm
based on the coronation dance for Obas (kings)
44 THE BEAT VOL. 27 #4, 2008
By Barry Eisenberg
of the Benin Empire” and lyrics filled with ec-
centric and traditional folk homilies. Uwaifo
brings to these tracks a big Nigerian highlife
band—horns, guitars, keyboard, traps and local
percussion—Nigerian highlife style with guitar
funk and acid-tinged accents, percussions echo-
ing back and forth with Cuba. Opening number,
“Kirikisi,” with its ’70s Congolese-style village-
beat rock hook, an endlessly sweet wah-wah solo,
opens up all the doors of my joy via ears and whole
body sensation.
“Agho,” a song to extol the power of chiefs,
opens with a Jimi Hendrix wah-wah intro and
quickly jumps into a psychedelic funkification
before Uwaifo’s vocals and the irresistible Ekassa
beats that bounce from one track to the next. The
whole bounces into a relentlessly cheerful trum-
pet solo, electric piano and guitar band send-up
of the Champs’ “Tequila,” which delivers on the
original and takes the whole thing out.
There are a whole raft-load of the day’s highlife
and Nigerian rock styles accenting these as well,
but it is the endlessly, lip-smackingly flavorful
Ekassa beats on this recording, especially on can’t-
quit tunes like “Atete” and “Dododo,” that will
wear out your home rotations, your car speakers,
the iPod at the gym, and if you would be so lucky,
your dancing shoes. DJs, this is a Soundway pro-
duction, so it’s available on vinyl too.
Whether Uwaifo is telling me that I shouldn’t
call a drunk man who talks sense a drunk, or wish-
ing me success in all I do, Guitar Boy Superstar
is one of the best half-dozen 2008 releases of Af-
rican music that I’ve heard through the first eight
months of this year.
Mbilia Bel, Bel Canto (Sterns Music STCD
3037-3038)
Bel Canto, focused entirely on some of the very
best of Mbilia Bel’s performances, presents on two
discs 17 of the scores if not hundreds of Orchestre
Afrisa International recordings from that period
in the ’80s when the band was at its apex in the
Congo, across Africa, and all over the world.
Although there had been female stars—Lucie
Eyenga, Abeti, Mpongo Love—from the Congo
who preceded her, Mbilia Bel, as no musical per-
former before her, personified the modern young
woman of her time and place. It didn’t hurt that
she, as one Congolese music aficionado said to
me, never sang a single bad note, that she could
dance, that she had appealing charisma.
Bel began her career under the name of Mboyo
Moseka as a backup singer for Abeti Masekini,
who was at that time the reigning female vocalist
in the Congo. For a brief while, she toured with
Sam Mangwana in the southeast of the Congo.
When the tour fell apart, she returned along with
a saxophonist, who upon auditioning with Afrisa
International suggested to the band that they also
hire Ms Moseka.
Moseka impressed the band with her singing
and dancing, and almost immediately the saxo-
phonist, Modero Mekanisi, began promoting her
on behalf of the band in all the local media. Tabu
Ley decided to give her a new stage name—Belle
Mbilia, but after consulting with Modero agreed
that something more subtle might be appropriate
for such a young performer, and thus the stage
name Mbilia Bel.
The whole band, especially Ley, guitarists
Brazzos and Dino Vangu and saxo Modero, com-
posed dozens of songs that were written to create
Bel’s stage persona, a modern Congolese
Everywoman, more than holding her own in the
age-old battle of the sexes, and she, in turn, was
disciplined and determined to deliver that role with
style, sensuality, grace and panache.
Take that perfectly constructed, sweet, soulful
rumba style that was Afrisa’s trademark on trum-
pet player Kabaselle Kaber’s “Wenenda,” in which

Bel in that bell-perfect soprano pleads with her
absent husband on behalf of her children who miss
their father, on behalf of her lonesome and sleep-
less wondering self, to return home and to her arms
again. Bel and the band, especially Vangu, Shaba
Kahamba and the brass chorus, know how to de-
liver just enough emotion to keep your feet danc-
ing and your heart about to break.
The songs on Bel Canto reflect her winning
charisma and the power of Afrisa at that moment
in time. They were an awesomely talented band.
Their guitar section included Kahamba on bass,
Baze Momakongele on rhythm, the formidable
songwriter Brazzos at mi-solo, and Vangu at the
height of his powers as lead solo. When Vangu
left the band, he was replaced by the formidable
Huit Kilos, who today performs as Ricardo
Lemvo’s lead guitarist.
Chorus singers during that period included
Kiesse Diambu, who also sang in OK Jazz, and
featured MyMy Ley and Ponpon Kuleta, each
exemplary and magical Congolese-style tenors.
The horn section was a marvel. Anchored by Ley’s
longtime associate and chef d’orchestre Modero,
the band sported between two and three saxo-
phones, which included Lowi Somana Bokeka,
and at times former Kalle and Franco saxophon-
ist Michel Sax. The dean of Congolese saxophon-
ists, Essous Jean Serge recorded with the band in
Paris on the lp Loyenge.
“Balle à Terre” is a special treat for the classic
Congolese music nut—following up Bel’s long
and languorous vocal interpretation on the intro
framed by Vangu’s sweet, lush and almost slack-
stringed-sounding guitar and Kahamba’s bounce
beat bass, Modero and Essous’ sax-o and the brass-
o choro highlight the dance break and work in
call and response to the vocal chorus delivered up
by Tabu Ley, Ponpon Kuleta and Bel.
Afrisa’s inimitable brass section, led by Lumu
Kabaselle Kaber and including Gerard Aska Kongi
and Tumba Mwamba, is a wonder throughout
these recordings. As Gerald Seligman in the liner
notes suggests, listening to these gifted musicians,
one mourns the loss of the sweetness of their ac-
complished horn choruses, which, even though all
three trumpet players, and others like them, are
still alive and playing music in Paris today, have
been replaced now for decades by shrill and
largely uninventive keyboard clichés.
Orchestre Afrisa International was, along with
Franco Luambo’s OK Jazz, clearly one of the
two greatest popular African dance bands of the
time and firing on all cylinders. As Modero told
me, they were in every way professional musi-
cians who practiced, worked on, and listened to
music from all over the world, anything to add a
different accent, stretch their repertoire, bring out
some new sound, day in and day out, eight, 10,
12 hours a day.
There is a lovely little pitch all through Mbilia
Bel’s “Nazali Mwasi,” a plaint about the fate of
women in Congolese culture, forced to do the
African Beat
work of men, while the men passent leur temps
assis comme des rois (pass the time seated like
kings). While Bel, a queen in her primy youth,
sings the lead response to her royal attendant vo-
cal chorus abrazos of Ponpon Kuleta and Tabu
Ley, Modero whispers, improvises saxo besos to
fill in between them; was there ever a woman’s
complaint so sweetly, catchingly, irresistibly de-
livered? “She was a talent,” Modero told me, “to
be brought on stage, and the songs were written
to be hers.”
African Classics: Samba Mapangala and
Virunga (Sheer Sounds SLCD 149)
I was exiting a parking lot with Samba
Mapangala’s “Malako” blasting out of my car
windows. A student I once had, a young man who
is challenged with a thousand and one learning
and behavior difficulties, was walking by along
the sidewalk when the music struck him. He had
been, as was his wont, walking awkwardly along
and whispering to himself as he did when the
music hit him. It…simply lifted him off his feet
like a strong wind into a gangly, but syncopated
jig. A moment before his head had been bent to-
ward the pavement and away from whatever or
whomever might seek him out. But as he danced,
his head was thrown back and the rapturous smile
on his face, something I never saw in the class-
room, was a moment of grace.
People all over the world love the music of
Samba Mapangala. Singer, bandleader, performer,
he is a musical champion. Sheer Sounds’ African
Classics series compilation of Samba Mapangala
and Virunga accurately contextualizes Samba, the
greatest international star from East Africa in the
past 30 years, with other, older great African mu-
sic stars such as Tabu Ley and Afrisa International,
Bembeya Jazz, Orchestra Baobab.
The opening track “Sungura” from Feet on Fire,
recorded in London in 1991 by Sterns Africa is,
after an East African horn chorus intro, a wire-to-
wire dance break soukous/ndombolo that is fast
(but to be honest not as fast as some of Samba’s
early Les Kinois tunes) and effortless at it, ener-
getic and uplifting. The horn chorus call and re-
sponse with polyrhythmic guitar lines is pure early
’80s Kinshasa style, divinely so.
Samba’s voice is a wonder, and his musical
compositions singular—ah Virunga! for their
complexity, organization and ability to change
directions and tempo between sections. As
Doug Paterson in the liner notes aptly states,
“We hear delicate interlocking guitar lines trans-
form into thrilling guitar solos, taking turns with
trumpets and saxophones, all held together by the
dazzling voice of Samba Mapangala leading mul-
tipart harmonies.”
Recently, Samba’s lyric writing has also be-
come the subject of academic discourse, and those
of us who don’t know African languages often
overlook this element of his genius. Samba him-
self has stated that often the idea for a song comes
to him in the form of a narrative, an insight into
the nature of the world and human experience,
before the music even arrives.
The lyrics to “Sungura” (Hare), while the tune
rips apace musically, adapts a Swahili version of
the hare and tortoise fable to the work and careers
of his fellow musical artists, counseling them to
pay more attention to the long haul rather than
becoming hypnotized by temporal success. Fol-
lowing “Sungura” here is “Malako” (Last Wish),
Mapangala’s biggest hit, which recounts the story
of how Samba’s mother, whose death left him and
his brothers orphans, had asked as a last wish that
his eldest brother look out for the younger ones
after she had died.
It is a master work, a killer composition, be-
ginning with Samba laying out the plot in solo a
cappella, followed with an electric rhythm
(Loboko) and solo (Lawi Somana) guitar hook
that borders on fugue. The chorus vocal lead of
Samba and Fataki, then animated by Samba,
takes up with the guitar lines as they mesmer-
izingly stretch out. There is a wonderful sax cho-
rus (Rodie and Atei) call and response with the
guitars that follows, and the whole thing loping
across a soundscape savannah at a cheetah’s gal-
lop, closes out with a Loboko rhythm solo dance
break that is propelled along by former Shika
Shika bassist Maniko, a high hat and trap set—
pure late ’70s Nairobi hit making.
“Malako” was first recorded in Kenya on an lp
by the same title, and later released in Europe and
America in 1990 on Earthworks’ star-making re-
lease Virunga Volcano. Along with tracks from
Virunga Volcano and Feet on Fire, the compila-
tion contains two tracks from his 2001 Stern’s/
Earthworks release Ujumbe, produced by Bopol
Mansiamina.
The days of the 10-minute tune, now that the
download age is upon us, is sadly waving off in
the distance. Thus, the African Classics compila-
tion is more than a fine introduction to Samba’s
work, but a treasure of long, wonderful, on-and-
on compositions that these days would require
attendance at live performances to catch. I hope
Continued on page 46
THE BEAT VOL. 27 #4, 2008 45

Continued from page 45
the songs here would lead those of you who are
new to Samba’s music to the original releases
available via download, because this set only
scratches at the surface of his greatness.
For Samba enthusiasts who already have these
recordings on vinyl, cassette, cd or in digital for-
mat, the compilation also includes three record-
ings that were previously available only on ex-
ceedingly rare vinyl: “Mabiala,” from the Virunga
Productions lp of the same title that features
among Samba’s wonderful chorus, Moreno
Batamba, the legendary Moja One singer, “Sis-
ter Ali,” a song that unlike the rest from the
Jumbo Jet African Stars Vol. Six lp was left off
of Virunga Volcano, and “Fonseka,” previously
only available on a 45.
Even after playing Mapangala’s music over
and over and over for two decades now, I find
whenever I spin a disc of his, I am always struck
by how much I love his music, how I feel lifted
off my feet, how I just want to throw my head
back and smile for anyone and no one, every-
one, to see.
The Very Best of Hugh Tracey (SWP 034)
The Sharp Woods Records site (swp-records
.com) provides a page-long biography of Hugh
Tracey, the then-Rhodesian farmer, who with an
extraordinary ear for music and attention to field
46 THE BEAT VOL. 27 #4, 2008
African Beat
recording detail was able to preserve what is per-
haps the most significant archive of African mu-
sic at the crucial mid-20th century period in its
history. Village music traditions were still popu-
lar expressions of the people, rather than “folk”
music, and at the same time, musicians all over
Africa had already discovered, as their African-
American counterparts had over the past centu-
ries, that European instruments, especially guitar
and saxophone, fit comfortably and added apt,
interesting and modernizing accents to their tra-
ditional African repertoires.
Michael Baird at Sharp Wood has over the past
several years lovingly digitized and brought to the
public’s attention many of Tracey’s recordings.
The Very Best of Hugh Tracey cherry-picks from
21 of the previous releases and in doing so, pro-
vides a fine collection representing the wide range
of Tracey’s recordings. Thus the recording works
on two levels: It stands on its own and also pro-
vides listeners samples from larger collections that
might interest them.
Whether your thing is hot drum, xylophone
or thumb-piano tones and beats, big choruses,
sweet, savory or bouncy vocals, they’re all in this
collection. I’m personally partial—attention
djs—to the beats of the Dibaya men and women
on kalimbas, vocals and animations with the
hard-rocking mother of rhythm & blues from
southeastern Congo, “Wa Kabwalala Wa Beena
Luluwa.” I also get a kick out of the one-man
knife and soda bottle rhythm section accompa-
nying the duet on guitars by Patrice Illunga and
Victor Misomba, “Masengu.”
The latter is a Congolese copper mine worker’s
lament sung in a creole of Swahili, Kiluba and
Kinyok languages reflecting the diversity of the
workers living in those miners’ camps. The itin-
erant miner—out of work, in debt and lonely, all
he asks for is a little diyaba to drink, which the
liner notes say is “i.e. cannabis to smoke,” and
some pretty women around to listen to him sing.
Of course, “Guabi Guabi” by legendary singer
and guitarist George Sibanda, and the Cold Stor-
age Band’s hot, hopping saxo, Bulwayo jazz
number “Skokiaan,” both from what is today
Zimbabwe, are also highlights among a highlight
reel of back-in-the-day African sounds. But the
real prizes on this recording are several hereto-
fore unavailable, except on the original vinyl re-
cordings, tracks of eastern Congolese guitarist,
Mwenda Jean Bosco.
Given the brilliance of Bosco’s star in the
Congo—he was the most influential guitarist from
southeastern Congo during the ’50s—very little
is left of his 200 original recordings. There is the
1995 Rounder Records release, Mwendo wa
Bayeke, recorded near the end of his life. Elijah
Wald, guitarist, world music writer and author who
lived and studied with Bosco, has also released
two discs of his recordings. It does no disservice
to Bosco to say that on the Rounder release his
guitar playing had by then lost a step. Notwith-
standing, the songs are lovely and lovingly played
by a great master. The Wald releases capture
Bosco’s playing in the prime of his career, but
unfortunately are masters from poorly preserved
originals, and the recording quality more often
than not compromises Bosco’s genius.
Typically lucid, the Tracey recordings—sim-
ply young Bosco on guitar and vocals—are a bit
of heaven, and for lovers of Congolese guitar, the
tracks here, including two versions of his star-
making recording, “Masanga,” essential.
Highlife: Unplugged and in Brief
Seprewa Kasa (Riverboat TUGCD 1051) is
unplugged, neo-trad Ghanaian highlife with the
solo instrument being a seprewa, a traditional
Akan lute-like instrument with a rectangular
sound box strung with 10 strings from a long,
curved branch-like neck to a long tongue of wood
standing on the sound box (the sound hole is on
the side). It sounds a little bit like a kora, and ap-
parently has all but disappeared in Ghana, al-
though it was a popular instrument even among
royalty in the 17th and 18th centuries. Two fel-
lows—Osei Korankye and Baffour Kyerematen—
play this instrument, which the lead, Osei, learned
from his grandfather, accompanied by Kari
Banaman, guitarist for the Ghanaian highlife band
Osibisa, as well as a local thumb piano and tradi-
tional percussion. Palm wine-ish, lovely, lilting,
just right for a slightly inebriated summer after-
noon on the back porch.
Biodun A. Bakare, son of highlife and juju gui-
tarist Ayinde Bakare, steals the show on Miliki
Music: Society Sounds of 60’s Lagos (Re-
grooved) (Mulatta MULO016), a compilation of
elder Nigerian musicians from Kunle Tejuoso’s
Jazz Hole Records series, including Fatai Rolling
Dollar and former Egypt 80 keyboardist Duro
Kiujenyu, playing a contemporary unplugged or
jazz-tempoed-up Yoruba music from the ’60s.
Whether it’s unplugged funk as on “Awon Olopa”
or an old highlife “E To Ju Omo Yin,” Bakare’s
guitar is in the hands of a village-beat guitar-pick-
ing master. The entire compilation, much like the
Ghanaian Seprewa Kasa, is new-millennium
highlife ear candy, very cool. ★
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.