Some thoughts on the Golden 70's of W. African pop

Hello once more from Virginia.  I'm playing more oldtime than Mandé music lately, but I can never go too long without listening to some 1970's Mandé electric pop.  Today, I'd like to share some of the biggest names and hottest songs from that special era of W. African popular music.

Guinea, located on the coast of W. Africa south-west of Mali, is the other powerhouse of Mandé music.   Kankan and the capital, Conakry, are both hubs of traditional and electric Mandé music, the equals of Kita and Bamako in Mali.  Several of the greatest singers of the modern recording era are Guinean, including Sory Kandia Kouyaté, the most powerful singer of his time, and Sékouba Bambino, Guinea's answer to Salif Keita.  While Mali is associated mainly with the n'goni, the four- to eight-stringed lute, Guinea is known for its peerless balafon players (a sort of wooden marimba).  There is speculation in Charry's Mandé Music that the Guinean electric guitar tradition is based on balafon accompaniment patterns and Mali's on n'goni melodies.  I think there could be something to this theory; certainly, there is a distinctive Guinean electric guitar sound.  Among the many great Guinean guitarists are Sékou "Bembeya" Diabaté (lead guitarist for the peerless Bembeya Jazz National), Kanté Manfila (a longtime collaborator of Salif Keita, and a well-known Afropop artist in his own right), Sékou "Docteur" Diabaté (lead guitarist for Balla et ses Balladins), and others.

I'm not going to get too deep into the historical background of this music since it's been written about so eloquently elsewhere (see below for links).  Suffice it to say write that Guinea's president from independence in 1958 to his death in 1984 was Sékou Touré, a noted anti-colonialist.  Touré promoted a policy of "authenticité," wherein "authentic" Guinean musicians were supported financially and foreign music was marginalized.  Guinea's best musicians became government bureaucrats, "functionnaires," to use the ubiquitous W. African term.  In practical terms, the musicians had a fixed income, in some cases government housing, state-provided instruments, and venues in which to play.  In return, they were expected to transform regional folk songs into danceable electric pop, practice every day together, and perform nightly at special government nightclubs.  They also regularly recorded albums on Guinea's national label, Syliphone, not only for internal consumption, but also as a cultural export showcasing Guinea's unique musical culture.  This whole cultural/beaurocratic idea proved wildly successful, producing some of the most classic African music ever recorded.

Having spent a fair amount of time now in the Malian contemporary music scene, I can say that a steady paycheck (even a modest one), help with housing, instruments, and venues to play in are very, very important to most street level musicians, many of whom live concert to concert.  The most important innovation of the authenticité program, though, was the enforced practice time.  In Guinea, as in Mali, the core Mandé songs (Kaira, Lamban, Duga, Alpha Yiayia, etc.) are known to all decent musicians, who have been playing them since childhood.  As such, it's easy to throw a band together, since everyone knows the songs already.  This shared repertoire, coupled with the lack of funds to pay for practice space, gas money for the band, snacks, etc., means that bands in Mali rarely practice together in the way the Guinean bands of the 70's did, which is to say, every day for several hours.  The only bands I've known in Mali that practice to that extent are Habib Koité's band, Bamada, and Bassekou Kouyaté's N'goni Ba.  Otherwise, the general rule is to practice intensively before recording a new album, and on the road, if the band tours.  To my ears, the immense amount of time the Guinean (and, to a certain extent, Malian) bands of the 70's spent together practicing really comes through on their albums.  There's no hesitation, no missed notes, excellent instrumentation, and the whole band works together as a unit, with each solo blending naturally into the next.  I'll leave it to your ears to decide, but for my money, these bands set the standard for musical excellence in W. African pop, and one that has rarely been equaled in later years.

I'm going to go into more detail about some of my favorite Guinean and Malian 70's bands next week, but in the meantime, here's two of my favorite tracks, Pivi et les Balladin's "Samba" and Bembeya Jazz National's "Armée Guinéenne."

Finally, here's one of my favorite Malian tracks of that era, L'Orchestre National "A"'s "Janfa," led by the late, great Kélétigui Diabaté on lead guitar.

Graeme Counsel has done more than any other non-African to bring this music to the world's attention (though a close second might be Leo Sarkisian, the legendary Music Time in Africa producer).  Counsel's site is well worth checking out if you enjoy any of this music and want to learn more about its context.  He has also more or less single-handedly digitized the entirety of the Syliphone catalog and Radio Télévision Guinée archives, which are now available at the British Library.  

I'll close this week's post with a thought: when organization and a steady stream of money come together in African music, remarkable things can happen.  Food for thought... See you next week!

Clifftop

I'm mostly recovered from a week's worth of overstimulation, sleep deprivation and general partying at Clifftop, a.k.a the Appalachian String Band Festival.  Clifftop is the biggest oldtime music festival in the world, with some 3600 attendees this year.  Many people come for a week or more, camping under the trees up in the West Virginian mountains and playing music for hours every day.  Great musicians come from all over the U.S. and beyond to play there, so even if you just wander around listening, it's hard to get bored.

Clifftop also has one of the largest oldtime banjo contests, and many of the best players (Walt Koken, Reed Martin, Adam Hurt, Paul Brown, etc.) regularly compete there.  There were some 40+ contestants this year, each of whom played one tune to qualify for the finals.  Once in the finals, the top 5 players each get the chance to play an additional two tunes for their chance at ultimate oldtime banjo glory (such as it is).

This was my first year in the finals, and I ended up getting third place.  My campmate Andy Fitzgibbon got 2nd, and Tim Bing (a melodic clawhammer player) got 1st.  I've wanted to be in the finals since I first came to Clifftop at 13 years old, so I was pretty excited.

I've posted the audio of my two songs for the finals: hope you enjoy them.  I'll be back next week with another Malian music-related post.  And big thanks to Pete Marshall (of WTJU and Mando Mafia fame) for passing along the recordings he made!  Thanks, Pete!