[engl] The Queen of the Ahoko It makes sense that Antoinette Konan’s eponymous album features nothing more than her ahoko on the cover. The deceptively simple traditional percussion instrument transformed Ivory Coast’s Baoulé music scene when Konan deployed it against a roaring electrified backdrop of synth, bass guitar and drum machines. Released in 1986, the album is a veritable UFO of instrumental force and contemporary pop sensibility landing in a boiling pot of diverse, creative characters inhabiting Abidjan, Ivory Coast (Côte d’Ivoire). Known as the “Queen of the Ahoko” among Ivorians, Konan single-handedly put the central-Ivorian instrument on the map when she gave it a 20th-century re-introduction. The three-piece wooden idiophone is handmade from a thin, ribbed, flexible stick, against which a smaller chunk of wood is rhythmically scraped. A hollow nutshell held in the non-scraping hand amplifies and manipulates the resulting overtones. Despite the ahoko's diminutive appearance, Konan and her powerful voice have remained at the forefront of Ivorian music for decades now, in an extremely diverse country—approximately 70 indigenous languages—with a competitive, internationally-recognized music industry. Music plays an important role in Baoulé cultural life, heard and seen in festivities, funerals and more. They are the largest ethnic group in Côte d’Ivoire and descend from Akan peoples who migrated from present-day central Ghana. Baoulé vocal music is characterized by polyphony, melodies built on parallel thirds and call-and-response. All of this can be heard in Konan’s music. In 1976, she got her start with Ivory Coast’s National Television Orchestra (ORTI), backing major Ivorian stars on Podium, a program featuring youth culture hero Roger Fulgence Kassy. By 1980 she was playing in Musicaria, visionary Ivorian bandleader Boncana Maïga’s group. With Maïga, she expanded her creative horizons and learned new approaches. She also worked with influential producer Jimmy Hyacinthe’s band. His artistic agency in Treichville—Abidjan’s music industry epicenter at the time—further inspired Konan. She would hang out there after school. Konan had a difficult time balancing school and music but enrolled in a music program at INA (National Institute of Arts, where she later also taught classes) and was able to both travel for concerts overseas and study music. Meanwhile, she managed to work with some of Abidjan’s key arrangers and music-makers. Music manager Amedé Koko Tanoh, who was also involved in the agency where Konan socialized, provided the original impetus for her to learn the ahoko in 1981 as a way to distinguish herself from other artists. He took her to study with a professional ahoko player, an old woman who began to teach Konan. But she soon brushed the young lady off and wouldn’t teach her any more. Konan continued on her own until her mother asked where she got the instrument. It turned out her mother knew how to play also, so Konan began to study with her mom. She taped her mom’s ahoko playing so she could practice back at university. During this early period, Konan borrowed clothes because she could not afford performance attire. Despite some ridicule she persevered. Music impresario George Tahi Benson, one of her key mentors, told her, “It’s good to dress the way you do. But what if you instead make the difference by promoting the local cloth, the Baoulé cloth.” She again got some negative feedback when she changed to traditional gowns. But it became her trademark look and gradually became trendy among Ivorians all over the country. Konan’s fingerprints are all over Antoinette Konan, she says, as it was meant to be a highly personal recording. She wanted to portray the suffering, injustice, frustrations, humiliations, personal career struggles, experience of child birth and poverty she sees in society. Taking on the producer role for the first time, Konan was the architect of her dancefloor-ready neo-traditional sound. But crucial to the recording was arranger Bamba Moussa Yang. A creative and versatile musical mind who was known for his work with legendary Ivorian singer Ernesto Djedje, Konan met him in 1986 after she had already released two albums. Yang brought a touch that matched Konan’s expectations, she says, because he knew her work so well. As she reflects on her long career today, Konan remembers Yang as her favorite arranger. Over the years Konan’s popularity grew to the upper echelons of Ivorian society: Ivory Coast’s first president Felix Houphouet Boigny’s would regularly invite Konan to perform at official ceremonies with foreign dignitaries. Through her charity and advocacy work on behalf of female musicians, Konan is still a force in the country’s music community. You can see her performing or speaking on television and around the country all the time—yet she still maintains several entrepreneurial projects in the farming sector. Konan has recorded more than 15 albums so far and plans more recordings soon.

[engl] Senegalese kora master Sourakata Koite began music from pretty much day one. "All the Koite are musicians!," he says. Indeed he is a member of a family of djeli (or griot in french), the hereditary caste of musician-storyteller-historians in West Africa. After moving to Paris in the late 70s he began to play in different bands and for musicians like Manu Dibango, Toure Kounda, Mangala, Mah Damba and more. During a festival in Holland, a music producer form Plexus Records heard him and asked to make a recording. In 1984 in an old chicken coop near Delft, Koite recorded the entire album in one take, including overdubs. The rich sonics and deep sound beautifully presents Koite's virtuosic and entrancing renditions of traditional and original tunes. With the reissue of en Hollande, Awesome Tapes From Africa continues its mission of bringing tapes posted on the ATFA website over the years, including this one, to music fans all over the world.

[engl] The meaning of “Kanawa” is so simple. We see our children trying to cross the ocean all the time. I said that many of our children die in the ocean and some of them while crossing the Sahara. Some climb over the wires across the borders and they have gotten shot. We have asked them not to leave and instead stay home. But I ask them why do they leave their country? Why do they decide to go? They said that they leave because of the family situation or problems, poverty, and unemployment. We told them if ever they are to leave, they should privilege legal ways. They should abide by laws vigorously when they are to emigrate. That’s better than hiding in boats or adopting other illegal means. I ask them to stay and work in their country. So that we can help each other find a solution to this problem. I call on the UN and African leaders so that we can coordinate our efforts to find a solution, to create jobs for them so that young people stop leaving. This song is about that message and I chose it as the title of my album because I like it. My choice is because it is very meaningful and it is something we see on a daily basis. I chose it in order to alert and sensitize everybody about this question of illegal immigration. To sensitize our brothers and sisters. It is a message. That’s why I chose it as the title of my album so that everybody can learn from it and also so that there is a reduction in the number of people emigrating. To sensitize them so that some can stay home and grow the land. Leaving is not the only solution. That’s my message.

[engl] Nahawa Doumbia is one of Mali's defining vocalists of the last four decades. Her work journeys through progressive stages of musical evolution and sonic vogues, making it hard to summarize or even comprehend. She's played a part in popular music since the late ‘70s, as her version of Wassoulou music developed from vocals-and-guitar duo into full-scale touring bands packing a bombastic, electrified punch. As Doumbia puts it, "My music has changed multiple times to this day…The more I progressed in my musical career, the more instruments I have had accompany my songs." ?La Grande Cantatrice Malienne Vol 1 looks back to the beginning of Doumbia’s long career, when her voice was remarkably strong yet still developing. This was before she added bass and percussion, and finally the electric guitar and synths for which she became known in recent years.? She'd been singing traditional music since her early teens in Bougouni. Doumbia performed with cultural troupes throughout her youth and gained the notice of Radio Mali officials who entered her in a Radio France International contest, Découverte 81 á Dakar, which she won. Whether she knew it or not, as a young lady from a town many hours from Mali’s capital Bamako, she was destined for a worldwide touring career at the vanguard of Malian popular music. ?Released in 1981 by the excellent Côte d’Ivoire-based AS Records, the singer was barely 20 years old when it was recorded. She was accompanied by her future husband N’Gou Bagayoko on acoustic guitar, whose style echoes the nimble runs of traditional kamele n’goni players. The stark simplicity of this highly intimate recording—the audible room acoustics, the occasionally in-the-red vocals—do not obscure the mature strength of her voice. On Vol 1 Doumbia performs her songs with the tenacity and hunger of a young artist on the cusp. "When I think about it, first, I am reminded of how long ago it was. It's one of the albums that I love most because it reminds me of my youth. I was so young and my voice was light and joyful. I still listen to some of those songs today. I am really proud of that first album because that’s where it all began. It shows me how far I’ve come in my personal and artistic life; it gives me the courage I need to keep going forward, and makes me appreciate all the years of dedication and hard work I put into my musical career. "?These early songs are rhythmically built around Bagayoko's sensitive guitar, as his fingers brush the fretboard and gently outline the melodies. Although this record predates the singer’s use of percussion, the driving skeletal didadi rhythm is apparent in the songs. Later albums like Vol 3 further prioritize her hometown didadi beat and the result made her famous.

[engl] The rags-to-riches chronicle of Penny Penny’s life would be remarkable if he had only released his smash debut Shaka Bundu and packed houses for a few years. But the inimitable South African singer and dancer known for his trademark top ponytail and emphatic anthems was no one-hit wonder. In the aftermath of Shaka Bundu’s nationwide explosion, far beyond his country the album resonated with ever bigger audiences. He performed up and down the continent, building fanbases in more than a dozen countries. So his sophomore album Yogo Yogo—released in 1996—solidified Penny Penny’s standing in pop music nationally and provided new energy to his pan-African stadium-filling adventures. “I was very busy between Shaka Bundu and Yogo Yogo. Shows every week, local and outside the country. There was no relaxing from 1995 until 1999.” The album also reflects the era in which it emerged. If Shaka Bundu arrived triumphantly amid newfound political freedom in South Africa with the end of Apartheid and Nelson Mandela’s election, Yogo Yogo was a next level expression for the maturing artist. He wanted to get a message out. Composed with Joe Shirimani, who also produced the album, the sound and compositional style echoes the earlier recording but the topical nature of the lyrics became more deliberate, more didactic. In the song “Ingani” Penny proclaims, we are all one people even though we may speak different languages, we are all Nguni—a larger historical grouping that includes many of the ethnic groups in modern South Africa. “Kulani Kulani,” which means grow up, urges young people to say no to drugs and yes to education. Ama Owners, referring to the public transport drivers involved in violent rumbles, asks the nation’s drivers to relax because we need them for our safe arrival. Penny’s success as a Xitsonga artist should not be under-estimated in the context of popular music at the time in South Africa. “When I started with my own style and image, first time in Shangaan we had artist like me,” Penny explains. “Our music was traditional before. But I brought a mix of rock and disco and it became the bomb. Every star won’t be popular without your own style.” It took them eight days to finish album, writing the songs in the studio. Penny says, “The songs just happened. Joe is very good at listening and producing, he has lots of patience. When he played the keyboard I would sing, standing behind him once he finished the rhythm, I would sing it all in one take, non-stop. We were not using computers to record, we were singing live. And we pressed the music on cassette and vinyl—not CD—back then." Fast-forward to 2020, Penny Penny is deep in the political game and appears on television 6 times a week as the star of his own reality TV show, “Papa Penny Ahee!”. He is setting up an avocado farm and provides fifty families in his region with food every month via his charitable foundation. Penny still plays huge shows around South Africa and will appear at some Europe’s biggest festivals in 2021.

[engl] The past five years have seen amapiano, South Africa’s electronic music movement born in the townships of the country’s Gauteng province, evolve from an underground sound to a nationwide mainstream staple. Even with its commercial success though, amapiano’s DIY ethos has continued to disrupt music creation and distribution in the country. Most amapiano commercial successes today began their careers on cracked versions of production software like FL Studio, distributed their work through file sharing platforms like datafilehost and marketed it using social media pages they controlled and influenced. Amapiano is partly a tasting menu of South Africa’s musical history, a lineage that has been as much a backdrop to the times as it has been a catalyst for change in the country. South African jazz has thrived pre and post-democracy, contributing international stalwarts of the genre, notably Miriam Makeba, Abdullah Ibrahim and Hugh Masekela. Kwaito music—which itself borrowed from other genres like marabi, kwela, mbaqanga, maskandi, bubblegum and others—was created and proliferated in the 90s partly because of the newly accessible House music imported into the country. In the early 2000s, Deep and Afro House dominated, to be followed by the rise of diBacardi, a percussion—heavy electronic music genre most popular in the city of Pretoria and its surrounding townships. Amapiano Selections, the debut album by DJ and producer Teno Afrika, gives listeners outside the movement’s online release economy an insight into the high-burn nature of amapiano that has spawned a distinct typology under its larger umbrella. 21-year-old Lutendo Raduvha has spent the bulk of his life moving between different townships on the outskirts of Johannesburg and Pretoria in the Gauteng province. The palette of amapiano styles on the album reflect these influences. But at first, South Africa’s youngest electronic music movement lived underground with a small, loyal following. “Amapiano is a genre that I chose because I have a passion for it,” says Teno “I started following amapiano in 2016 because I wanted to explore how it’s produced. It was not taken seriously in our country.” The record’s opening track, poignantly named “Ambassadors,” is the sound de jour in this current moment of amapiano’s evolution. Here organ solos riff over demure drums, bass and percussion for a sophisticated sound that is palatable to both seasoned and uninitiated ears. Teno Afrika does something similar on Conka, but this time referencing the Kwaito-influenced Amapiano popularised by DJ Sumbody and Cassper Nyovest’s collaborations and Focalistic’s lyrical dribbling which earned him the nickname Pitori Maradona (Maradona of Pretoria). The next two tracks, “Storytellers” and “8 Ubers" as well as tracks 6 and 7 (“Lerato La Bass” and “Trip to Vlakas”) are Teno Afrika’s hat tip to the sound evolving in the townships on the outskirts of Pretoria (Pitori to the hip) known locally as gong gong amapiano. From the home of diBicardi, the percussion and groove of the latter two especially are distinct for their almost off-tempo stride, an identifying feature of diBacardi. The high-pitched keyboard builds to a delayed break; once there, the drum is almost turned inside out to create a bass-line that becomes the driving force behind the track. As a counterpoint to the unrefined, chest rattling coarseness, fifth in the line-up “Smooth Criminal” is carried by the melody, given ample breathing space and balances the heavy bass on its back. Teno Afrika is referencing Harvard amapiano, named after the Ivy League US university for its supposedly more educated approach to production. Interestingly, Teno Afrika only gives vocals prominence on the closing track “Chants of Africa.” As a way of making their music recognizable and relatable for broadcast, amapiano producers have sometimes overly relied on vocals in the form of singing, catch-phrases and party refrains for the purpose. “It was my decision not to use vocals on this project,” says Teno “The reason is I wanted people to feel my instrumentals and style because this is my first album.” On his closing track the young producer gives a glimpse of the considered approach to music which buoys anticipation for greater things from his future releases.