Janet and the Importance of Bubblegum

The Music Snobs were discussing authenticity and the legacy of Control recently. This is somewhat orthogonal to the show but they gave me an opening and I couldn't resist. I have some thoughts on He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive, Janet Jackson and the importance of bubblegum.

He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive plays the same role in Control as Baby be Mine did in Thriller. It is the bridge between what came before and what is new and is to come. To wit:

Baby be Mine could be an outtake or a logical progression from Off the Wall. In the same vein, He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive explicitly winks to the perceived bubblegum of Janet's earlier albums.

Sonically He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive is the closest to pop on the album even though it has the prototypical synth grooves that characterized Minneapolis. Lisa Keith laces the background vocals and Spencer Barnard does the heavy lifting with the writing and production.

You can imagine Terry Lewis hearing this and saying, okay now let's add some funk to the rest of the album. Jimmy Jam would say now let's take it uptown. Cue When I Think Of You, Nasty and all the basslines that endure, the things that we celebrate from Control.

Lyrically, He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive is a trifle. And yet, it is completely disarming. You can't take it too seriously because of the subject matter. It captures the uncertainty of teenage love - the giggles of the unrequited longing. The letters column in Right On magazine.

He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive is needed in the architecture of the album because of the vulnerability it exposes. If we think of Control as Janet's bildungsroman, it is a bildungsroman precisely because of the glimpse of the naivete, the innocence about to be lost.

The sequencing of Control has been much praised. You can do without He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive, we don't talk much about the song, but you'd lose something. The patter that starts What Have You Done For Me Lately echoes her homegirls steping in with advice in the chorus: "Talk to him".

I don't think she ever performed He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive live, it is strictly an album track. Still most people would kill for this kind of filler.

Compare it with almost contemporaneous Crush on You by The Jets that covered the same subject matter and is similarly upbeat and bright dancefloor fodder. Ready For The World's Love You Down captures the sense of yearning but is more akin to Lets Wait Awhile.

I'd like to think that Joe Jackson was expecting more of the same when he entrusted her to Jam and Lewis and was pleasantly surprised. Lightning struck twice, they were good for business.

By the end of Control, Joe Jackson can be under no delusion that his baby girl hasn't moved beyond schoolgirl crushes to needing a supply of birth control pills and condoms in her handbag. The closing moans in Funny how time flies do more work than the later Rolling Stone cover.

Jam and Lewis were great producers because they met their artists as equals and tailored the songs accordingly. Think of the sensitivity towards New Edition, the brotherhood with Alexander O'Neal or the meeting of minds with Cherrelle. Flyte Tyme was a family affair.

Teenage Love, a Playlist

The obligatory crush playlist (spotify version)

• He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive - Janet Jackson
• Crush on You - The Jets
• Schoolboy Crush - Average White Band
• Teenage Love - Slick Rick

Slick Rick is the most wordly of the lot, I'd expect nothing less of hip hop



Others pitched in to confirm that, as speculated, He Doesn't Even Know I'm Alive was the first song recorded for Control.

File under: music, soul, craft, pop, appreciation, review, production, culture, youth, Janet Jackson, Jam and Lewis, obsession, One Track Mind, toli

The Dark Keys

Chris Ferris rants in typically vicious fashion:

It seems amazing that Newsweek has the cojones to print an article like this so soon after the administration made them their biatch for (correctly) reporting that an anonymous Pentagon source had seen in a report of allegations that the Koran had been flushed down the toilet.

The topic is Good Intentions Gone Bad, the farewell article by Rod Norlan, Newsweek's exiting Baghdad Bureau Chief which has received much skewering in the blogosphere for what it unwittingly reveals about a journalist's conception of his job (as with Judith Miller's Chalabi-exploited naiveté). The article is full of items that could have been Pullitzer material if pursued. Chris highlights this sentence in particular

The most shocking thing about Abu Ghraib was not the behavior of U.S. troops, but the incompetence of their leaders.

Chris rejoins

Actually, what is most shocking is that despite "plain as the nose on your face" knowledge that their leaders have proven to be so incompetent, is the fact that they somehow managed to get re-elected.

I'd add that even worse is that, as Brad Delong also noted - Now He Tells Us (Why Oh Why Can't We Have a Better Press Corps?), this same bureau chief was supremely supine in allowing the kind of reporting that his magazine did in the run up to the Iraq war and also ever since that that black hole began sucking up life from all those around it. Remembering your cojones only with the benefit of hindsight, once you've safely left the Green Zone and don't have to worry about getting cut off from access to highly misleading and stage-managed briefings with Pentagon and anonymous "Senior Coalition Provisional Authority officials", is mighty noble don't you think?

"Just the facts, Ma'am."

And MSNBC, which falls under that same tainted Nothing Bad to report Corporate (NBC) umbrella, is a far more malignant culprit than Newsweek in its flag-waving Pollyanna posturing. It outdoes even Cheery Neverland News (CNN) at the Fox News imitation. I actually respect Fox News because, like all Rupert Murdoch productions, it is simply an articulation of the man's parochial concerns and personality. The Sun in England taps directly into Murdoch's id but Fox News gets quite close to the heart of the matter. The things that matter to him are well known and who can blame anyone for assuming that what they like is what others would like. In much the same way, many Americans assume that what is liked or is good for America must be liked by, or good for, the rest of the world, but that's just an overblown sense of self at work. Besides media à la Murdoch is fun, sexy and exciting with enough sports to satisfy me on a weekend afternoon.

As far how the November vote went, well that's just the way of politics. One needed a savvy opposition figure who would be willing to play as dirty as the incumbent (who controled most of government) and to court all the country instead of preaching to the choir.

The cognitive dissonance of the moment, of the Greek chorus of "The insurgency is wilting! Vctory is right around the corner! We don't torture prisoners!" set against my dread at hearing what horror the BBC World Service will reveal as I wake in the morning, cries out for a sustained response and for someone to speak up incisively and engage the country because the current government has no policy clothes and is plainly what Pentagon planners would call a target rich environment - despite a fawning media.

Joseph Biden's call to Close Down Guantanamo Bay is a step in the right direction, but the critique needs to go beyond foreign policy and needs to address the real domestic and economic train wreck that even leaves that bagman we call Greenspan puzzled (Greenspan Says Low Rates Tempt Investors to Risk More). The socially regressive policies are more difficult to report but they also are interesting to consider and motivate many an interest group. Political journalists can take a look at the Downing Street memo and ask ingenuous questions about dates, people and places.

If that fails, we should remember that Al Capone was ultimately busted for tax evasion (incidentally that fellow-traveler in deviousness called Augusto Pinochet will finally be facing the music for tax fraud if he doesn't again fake illness whenever Riggs Bank or Allende are mentioned). No one expects politians to be choir boys but Dick Cheney and co make Bill Clinton look like the freshest Kuumbabe in town. Looking at the petty corruption from Tom Delay (with him you don't have to even squint) to Bill Frist, to the mismanagement of Iraq's oil revenues, or the way contracts (Haliburton et al.) are being awarded by the CPA in the abortive Iraqi reconstruction effort etc. (your tax dollars at work) should be an easy thing for a patient hack seeking to make a name for themselves. There are so many areas to look at and far more "there" there to grapple with than say something obscure as the Oil for Food program. 2 years of the War in Iraq, 18 months of the CPA or 3 years of the Department of Homeland Security has brought to light in the public domain a larger paper trail than Deep Throat ever handed to Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. Will US journalists ask the questions?

On political rhetoric, Dana Millbank has the right idea about the Administration's Amnesty Amnesia.

The folks at Amnesty International are practically begging for a one-way ticket to Gitmo. After the human rights group issued a report late last month calling the U.S. detention center in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, "the gulag of our times," top officials raced to condemn Amnesty.

President Bush: "It's absurd. It's an absurd allegation."

Vice President Cheney: "I don't take them seriously. . . . Frankly, I was offended by it."

Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld: "Reprehensible . . . cannot be excused."

Funny -- these officials had a different view of Amnesty when it was criticizing other countries.

Rumsfeld repeatedly cited Amnesty when he was making the case against Saddam Hussein, urging "a careful reading of Amnesty International" and saying that according to "Amnesty International's description of what they know has gone on, it's not a happy picture."

The White House often cited Amnesty to make the case for war in Iraq, using the group's allegations that Iraq executed dozens of women accused of prostitution, decapitated victims and displayed their heads, tortured political opponents and raped detainees' relatives, gouged out eyes, and used electric shocks.

In any case, the only reason that stereotypical American voter cares about Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo or Bagram is that there is a nagging sense that it will cause blowback. Deep down, the American psyche was bloodied and wounded by the temerity of those Bin Laden cultists to attack as they did and a little frontier justice and dead-or-alive treatment is well within the cultural zeitgeist, as evidenced by those recent paens to flagellent revenge Man on Fire and The Passion of The Christ, to name just a few movies (the South Park - Passion of the Jew was better I felt).

The fact that swarthy types are being roughed up is of little matter: you can't fight Al Qaeda without breaking a few bones. Even when you tell them that that Afghan taxi driver was innocent, that he was a witness to the bombing and not a suicide bomber, and that getting beaten to death is a rather steep price to pay for objecting to being one of The Usual Suspects picked up even if said beating is at the hands of clean-cut, wholesome, flagbearing, GI types with crew-cuts that you can bring home to mom.

Showing that the current government policies, in almost every sphere, are not only wrong-headed but counter-productive with daily evidence of blowback in body bags, unphotographed caskets and deficits is only in start.

Talking in plain English about these things is the correct tactic. And the talk should not be in the weasely and vapid pseudo-senatorial lobbyist-lackey lingo. The most shocking aspect of that attention-grabber demagogue, George Galloway's dismantling of Norm Coleman's Senate Committee was that while his rhetoric was rather sober even if quotable, it seemed light years from what any American politician could come up with. From Issue A to Z it should be a matter of repeatedly saying,

1. The policy is wrong.
2. It's not working. Indeed it's alienating people and worsening things.
3. This is how we would change it.

Repeat ad infinitum.

The Democrats' choice of which issues to take stands on is quite puzzling although Harry Reid is getting better. They don't even seem to get to the "It's not working plank let alone proceed fluently to the "How we would change things" aspect. The concept of a strong Whip, of getting strong ground-level organization, of articulating deep policies and positions - an agenda in short, of having a party with a cohort of thinking heads ready to repeat the party's line at every opportunity is missing. In other words what is needed is the equivalent of the work that John Smith did for the Labour Party in 1990s England before his untimely death, work that paved the way for the emergence of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown (and there were 50 others who could have assumed their roles). When Labour took the reins of power from the analagously sclerotic John Major's Thatcherite Conservatives (John Major is at the Carlyle Group along with George Bush Snr), they hit the ground running with a comprehensive program and manifesto that they can still point to today and which has won them 2 consecutive elections (even despite the UK electorate's evident distaste for Blair's embrace of Bush's apocalyptic "Because we could" Empire-building Persian folly and the consequent costs in blood, taxes and peace of mind they are bearing). And the Assyrian conquest looms.

In any case, as I've written before, how Americans chose to mismanage their patrimony is of rather minor concern to me, although housing purchases loom, it's the collateral damage that worries me.

At the risk of repeating myself, and being my father's son, I believe in the joy of repetition, let me harken again to the Ga proverb my father is so fond of recounting

An elephant which is lean is still bigger than a cow.

• A chastened US will still dictate to much of the rest of the world
• A lightly grazed GOP elephant could very well be bigger than a rising donkey some might say.

I was discussing with my Afro-French cousins this past weekend the way the French bloodied Chirac with a resounding non in the past few weeks. Their typically Gallic response was "Les Français sont con". Later on we read the Observer and found a quote echoing the same sentiment:

Danielle Larre is tending her tomato plants when I drop by. I ask her whether she will be voting oui or non. 'I'm going to vote yes. Now that the train is on its way, we can't simply jump off. I started reading the constitution, but I decided I had more interesting things to read. It's ridiculous to have a referendum because nobody understands it.'

Danielle's husband is a member of the chasse (the hunt), many of whom oppose the constitution because they fear it would remove their right to trample through people's gardens hunting wild boar. 'My husband, mum, son and sister will all vote yes,' she says firmly. 'We're all voting yes for different reasons. My mum will vote yes because she likes Chirac. Me, I don't like Chirac at all.' Danielle shrugs: 'Les Français, ils sont un peu con. Ils sont jamais contents.' Roughly translated: 'They're awkward sods, the French. They're never happy.'

Jean shows me a computer program he has, analysing the vocabulary of the constitution. The word 'bank' appears 176 times; 'market' 78 times; competition 174 times; and social progress three times. The word fraternity does not appear. 'Services public' appears only once; the preferred term now is services economiques d'interêt general. 'It's not just a choice of words. Services public means something very specific in France. We don't want to lose that distinction,' he says.

In other words, the French chose to vote down an inconsequential constitutional treaty but may still very well vote Chirac and his cronies back into power at the next presidential elections. In much the same way, if no US politician steps up soon to the proverbial plate, the same thing might happen and worse in the 2008 elections. If that comes to pass it will be every man for himself because the Global Goodwill Quotient ® will be maxed out like the US national savings rate is being minimized. Have you bought any euros lately, Chris?

Soundtrack for this political toli posturing:

• Prince - Joy in Repetition

"Holding Someone Is Truly Believing There's Joy In Repetition."

There's Joy In Repetition.	Iraq and Afghanistan are plainly not working
There's Joy In Repetition.	Nuclear Proliferation is not working (India, Pakistan). North Korea is not working
There's Joy In Repetition.	Economy is not working
There's Joy In Repetition.	Human Rights are scarce (Mr Patriot and Tom Ridge's Homeland Security beckon)
There's Joy In Repetition.	Job security? Hello? Anyone there?
There's Joy In Repetition.	Health care is not working (my insurance copayment is $35 and I'm a lucky camper)
There's Joy In Repetition.	Affordable housing or education is a pipe dream for a growing number
There's Joy In Repetition.	Retirement Funding? Will your company pay your pensions? Is your 401K safe? Well less said on that
There's Joy In Repetition.	Environmental Policy? I've got some Redwood Forest, National Park and some Alaskan oil field drills for you
There's Joy In Repetition.	[                             ] The above space deliberately left blank.
There's Joy In Repetition.	Let's cut taxes for the top 1 0.1%.
There's Joy In Repetition.	Let's spend the loot like a Long Thief in the Night

Brand America is being flushed down the toilet along with those copies of the Koran.

More toli on The B-Movie Theory

File under: politics, USA, america, spineless, journalism, newsweek, neocons, rogues, Bush, Iraq, war, economics, bagmen, Greenspan, France, UK, history, Jacques Chirac, John Smith, Tony Blair, strategy, leadership, language, Europe, culture

Articles of Faith

Let's have a look at some pop art to continue the Things Fall Apart series, this time an entry in the Comfort Suite.

In considering the various responses to the themes of my ongoing series, I've been wondering what helps keep things together even when there is much cause for despair. Culture and art are the standard answers it seems. Another partial (if obvious) explanation in Africa is religion, and consequently the topic of this note is articles of faith. My entry point to the discussion will be a few Nigerian calendar posters that The Wife bought in Northern Ghana in 1999. Christianity and Islam are among the visible competitors in the cultural and political marketplaces of Africa and are no strangers to advocacy for our souls. Thus I direct your attention to a photoset: Articles of Faith.

The artist is a certain R. Nkwonta of CAS Creation; God's Providence Printers of Mushin, Lagos are the publishers. Posters and sign art of this sort are quite popular throughout West Africa. Nkwonta's are among the most distinctive I've seen. Religion and various social mores are his favoured topics and they are tackled with aplomb.

We are in the realm of pop art and agitprop - guerrilla marketing, in short, in the service of the Good Lord. Of late, there has been the move to digital presses but the motifs of traditional sign drawing have been preserved in these handpainted posters. The graphic style might be labeled folk art by ethnographers, or crude or primitive to certain eyes, indeed the strokes are broad and exaggerated. Much like traditional African theatre, or say the newfangled Nollywood movies, realism is beside the point. Rather it is all about the message, this is engaged art.

But less prose, let's start, if you will, with the downfall of Satan.

Fall from Grace

The story recounted in this poster is "The Glorious Victory" of Jesus over Satan in a hard fought wrestling match. It is worth paying attention to the panels of this low brow tale of angels and demons; a close reading is revelatory.

Each panel you'll note is accompanied with the requisite quote from scripture. A few typos notwithstanding, the point is easily conveyed. First:

Our Lord Jesus Christ is ready to high jack Satan.

Then:

Satan makes first attempt but Jesus cleverly dodged it.

English is not the author's first language but we'll admit that the malapropisms are inspired: "dogged" is a good stand-in for "dodged" since the horned Satan is behaving like a vicious dog after all - not to mention his attire. The "high jack" spinebuster is an apt counterpoint to the "down fall" of the poster's title.

Presumably God, as the Supreme Justice, is the wigged-out referee in this wrestling bout. Also note that Jesus's tattoo, with the "Gilly Mercy" inscription, seems to shift position, from arm to back to chest, once again proving that the Lord works in mysterious ways. I hope one of my Nigerian friends can step in with a translation for Gilly (it is igbo right?).

The fight is on and a curious dance seems to take place. It's not quite a foxtrot it's more like a capoeira. Nkwonta later explains that "Satan bowed with his knees to our Lord Jesus Christ". This is only fitting and we can treat the horned beast like the "empty vessel" he is.

Soon enough we get to heart of the matter namely: "Our Lord Jesus Christ has beaten Satan to self unconscious". This is accompanied by Jeremiah's prophetic warning that "I will destroy you with my hands".

The dripping blood from the wounded Satan is of no matter, this is an Old Testament aesthetic. We are told that "the Devil wanted to run away from the ring but Jesus drew him back to smash him more". As he drags Satan by the tail, Jesus's efforts are duly backed up with the words of Genesis 3:15:

I will crush your head.

My sunday school days of yore aren't too distant hence I would hazard that this verse refers to God admonishing Adam, Eve and the serpent.

Wrestling is a big tradition in certain parts of Nigeria. Nkwonta is undoubtedly a wrestling aficionado as are his protagonists who know all the high jacks and other sundry moves. We can only marvel at the technique displayed as "Jesus turned the devil upside down in order to destroy him".

Thus we see that a "pin fall marks Satan's defeat" and, finally Of course, Jesus is declared the winner.

"Up! Up!! Jesus, Down! Down!! Satan" is the ultimate message.

As the spirit descends in the form of a dove, Jesus, his six-pack abs rippling, holds his title belt aloft and delicately steps on the bleeding (and presumably permanently dealt-with threat from the perfidious Satan). Stepping on someone is about the most humiliating thing one can do; one can't understate the impact of the image is a society where respect and honour is paramount. All the time the angels smile and sing hosannas. My initial theory about God being the referee is proven mistaken, the bewigged referee is clearly part of the throng of angels. God is rather the spectral and enigmatic figure in the top right corner. The tropes of religious iconography have been duly satisfied.

Soul Struggle

We continue our discussion with a poster illustrating the ongoing competition for the soul of the African man.

No words are minced in the case of a hypocrite. The overt purpose of this exhortation is the shaming of hypocrites: those who, on the one hand, take up the the cross and bible and, the next day, turn to 'darker' matters shall we say. This is of course is often framed as a matter of tradition and modernity. There is much gnashing of the teeth in these areas and it is not just in matters of religion that this contest takes place. As an example, doctors in contemporary Africa steeped in the expensive western medical tradition often have to worry about their patients visiting traditional healers (typically dismissed as fetish priests and the like). In that case there is very real concern about the interaction of the drug regimes with herbal remedies and the plant impurities often found in them.

After heading to Church one day the hypocrite turns to worshiping of idols the next. Note the dark clouds forebodingly pregnant with tropical rain and worse. The chicken (or rather the fowl) to be slaughtered is at hand. The skull and bones, the dead animals, the bare-breasted woman in the shrine, this is the heart of darkness one might say. This is the popular conception of fetishes, juju, voodoo and traditional African religions. It is to be dismissed as superstition as testified to here by the clay or wood idolatry of the mask.

This has been a centuries old campaign in proselytizing of Africa in the encounter of Christianity and Islam with traditional African belief systems and religions. Those emblems of split allegiance are berated and ridiculed. The encomium is long

Woe to you hypocrites. You lock the door to the Kingdom of heaven to people's faces but you yourself don't go in nor do you allow in those who are trying to enter...

A sample headline in recent weeks in Ghanaian newspapers is along the same lines: Doom For Corrupt Leaders – Pastor Predicts

According to the Pastor, though this year 2007 biblically was a year of double blessings, any mischievous politician or reverend minister who intended taking undue advantage of his/her position to exploit the people especially the poor and less privileged was in for "double curses".

The accompanying image picked by the Ghanaweb editor to illustrate the devil is all pointy extremities as one might expect.

There is a long history behind Nkwonta's motif. Martin Meredith, discussing pre-independence Kenya, describes the oaths of loyalty the Kikuyu Central Association instituted in the 1920s:

the oath involved holding a Bible in the left hand and a handful of earth in the right hand pressed to the navel while swearing to serve the Kikuyu people faithfully.... [In the 1950s] the meat of a goat replaced the Bible... White farmers reported a mood of increasing truculence and incidents of cattle-maiming and sabotage.

Back in Nigeria, Rems Nna Umeasiegbu spent a decade respectfully documenting Igbo traditions, customs and stories that appeared to be disappearing and published his findings in his 1966 book The Way We Lived. His illustration of a juju ceremony is in the same vein although perhaps a few minutes later than Nkwonta pictured it.

The missionaries and colonists faced this intractable problem and the churches that were their legacy are still combating it and even apparently with greater fervour.

I recently noted that Busia commented on this issue when he asked "Has The Christian Faith Been Adequately Presented?". He framed the question as follows:

Some missionaries who have served overseas have unhappy recollections of trusted converts reverting, on certain occasions, to 'pagan' beliefs and practices. The experience was all the more stunning when the converts concerned were not the more recent ones, but Christians of long standing, sometimes with fine records of conspicuous service and loyalty. The problem takes on a new dimension when it is presented as part of the general problem of the encounter between Christianity and indigenous cultures.

He suggested a reversal of the typical context and advocated that the burden should be on the church to present itself as relevant to the local belief systems. In this vein, the art must reflect those themes - if only to subvert them; I suspect that Nkwonta is on board.

Match Made in Hell

A living religion must strive to be relevant to its practitioner's lives and interests hence we return to the sports motif with a football match between Jesus and Satan.

Despite the dastardly foul early in the game, Jesus dribbles past Satan for his first goal. As Matthew put it in his gospel "Get thou behind me Satan".

A lot of fun was had in these panels and with economy in the illustrations. Observe the Angel flying to the right of the goal post to block Satan's first attempt with an athletic catch - Petr Cech would be proud.

To punctuate Jesus Christ's first goal we return to that potent scripture quote: the crushed head business. Others translate it as "strike your head", regardless, trash talk doesn't get more direct.

The story proceeds:

Satan then makes his second attempt but the Holy Spirit was against him.

The dove, embodying the spirit, diverts his attempt and the angel goalie, who had reacted tardily and would not have made the catch, skips happily, content at not having to make a difficult save. It pays to have friends in high places.

Note, later on, that Jesus heads the ball over the hapless defenders of evil. Evidently: "our Lord Jesus Christ has set confusion in the kingdom of darkness". Again the style displayed is akin to that of the writers of the New Testament gospels who strove in their depiction of Jesus's acts to underline the fulfilment of prophecies with pointers to passages in the Torah.

Interestingly enough there is a third goal depicted "when the Lord dribbled Satan to the ground which marked his second goal". Given that the final score (in smaller print at the top right of the poster) is 2-0 for Jesus, it must mean that the header of the other panel was disallowed by the referee. Alternatively this discrepancy might be a reference to the eternal mystery of the Holy Trinity in Church doctrine. Catechists beware.

As one would expect, a victory celebration marks the end of the match.

There is much that can be asked about these posters but we'll keep our exegesis brief. Do note, for what it's worth, that all the angels seem to be women. I won't dive too deeply into this female subtext (The Magdalene Propositions); I'll only note that the issue of female clergy and ordination of such is currently rending the Anglican and Episcopal churches apart (along with the stance on homosexuality).

Similarly I'll pass over the issue of the ethnicity of Jesus. Is he simply very tanned? And what about the nappy hair? Are those dreadlocks or just your typical semitic features? The tattoo tradition? Is this simply artistic licence in the pursuit of audience empathy or is a more subversive reading warranted?

Morality Plays

Overt religion is not the only mode that Nkwonta works in; social mores and behaviour fall under his purview - his is a complete worldview. Thus we turn to the case of Madam Long Mouth and Mrs Big Ear.

This poster is more in the vein of social commentary than religious admonition. He presents a typical morality play aimed at an audience who have recently left their rural abodes. The subject is "gossiping and the evil that follows it".

The object of her neighbour's gossip is saintly and minds her own business. "Yes let them say", she mutters to herself as she heads off to her good works.

As for the neigbours, suffice to say that "every time talk talk". Long Mouth and Big Ear chat unconcernedly, neglecting their household duties, while the goat takes advantage to eat the yam from their plate.

The next day Long Mouth returns, presumably for more of the same. Big Ear is glad to hear that "another news don land". She asks "abeg wetin happen?". The goat is equally happy for the visit and brays:

Abeg you are highly welcome. Have your sit [sic].

The subtext is clear: "The more you talk, the more your mouth long, and the more you listen, the more your ear big."

The lesson is to "keep your mouth shut", your food and more will go to waste.

Nkwonta's versatility with the poster motif has been rightly picked up by a few ethnology publications. Social anthropologists would have a field day studying his full body of work. Take for example his poster of The First Lady Wine Tapper. Social uplift is his message.

Elsewhere, and less successful artistically, similar painted movie posters have been exhibited. In those cases, instead of social commentary or religiousity, it is in service of lurid commericalism as in Extreme Canvas: Movie Poster Paintings from Ghana. To my eye those don't attain the heights I've shown here.

Nigeria, like many other countries in Africa, has been struggling to regain confidence after several lost decades. Along with the millennial implications of 1999, Nigeria was then just emerging from the suffocation of the Abacha years - waiting for an angel as it were. One coping mechanism for the years of arbitrary misrule and hardship was a turn towards these new Christianities. In a matter of a few decades, these currents are now asserting themselves prominently in the zeitgeist.

You may think the sentiment here is cartoonish, or dismiss it as crude, that it could only work in developing countries where audiences are cupid. I believe that the appeal is rather in their ingenuous charm. You know where you stand when confronted with this kind of rhetoric as opposed to some of the sophisticates we see in the West that are neither here nor there. Perhaps a certain simplicity has mass appeal in these troubled times. The spread of charismatic churches has been noted in Africa. Evangelicals and baptists are on the rise everywhere. In the US currently the arguments are over conservatism, Darwin's God, atheism and the like. The new Pope, per contra, thinks we should talk more about hell these days. Milton in Paradise Lost didn't shirk from this notion and indeed dove in with the definitive account.

We often dismiss the opium of the masses as dangerous, doctrinaire and simple-minded. Yet there is considerable humour when presented with this kind of whimsy. The themes are expansive, appealing and direct. The hard knock life is a staple of the Great Game. We are starved for meaning and religious types and their printing presses are quick to fill those gaps and "educate" our souls. One needs to get down and dirty to compete in the marketplace of ideas. Hilarity is a weapon of choice.

Nkwonta seems to have fully internalized those beliefs; his creations are testament to ground level pragmatism. Springing from the trenches, he produces his tokens one panel at a time, bite-sized gestures towards a certain spirituality. This is a complex piece of advocacy, an expression displayed without artifice. Low brow it may be but this is art in full, and effective at that. You certainly can't be indifferent to these articles of faith.

Soundtrack for this note

A short playlist on our theme (spotify version)

• Stevie Wonder - Superstition
  Mr Steveland Morris jumps in

  When you believe in things that you don't understand,
  Then you suffer
  Superstition ain't the way

  The alternative of course is the black magic of the wonderful Higher Ground from the Innervisions album.
• Wayne Shorter - Juju
  Dense, tense and full of turmoil, this is the music of conflicted souls. It features Wayne Shorter's virtuoso saxophone pouncing from the dark on Elvin Jones drums and McCoy Tyner's piano.
• King Sunny Ade - Juju Music
  Sunny Ade's laidback juju music continues to be a touchstone in West Africa. It is a conversation that calls out to listeners to participate. There are no boundaries between the musicians and the audience. Fodder for those late nights in urban spots, seductive sounds for all night comfort suites.

Next: Faith Healing

File under: art, pop, religion, poster, faith, tradition, modernity, superstition, christianity, culture, interplay, humour, whimsy, wit, Nigeria, Africa, angels, demons, analysis, Things Fall Apart, juju, toli

The Toli Music Awards 2004

So the September 30th deadline for Grammy nominations is fast approaching and it's time to review the music class of 2004. We'll exclude Lauryn Hill and the Fugees who couldn't get their act together on time (or maybe their marketing teams decided for a Christmas push); similarly the word is that Omar has just completed his new album and previewed the first track on Giles Peterson's show last week but that will be next year's campaign. Unfortunately too, it looks like D'Angelo's creative block will extend for at least another year as he's fast approaching Michael Jackson like minimalist hermetism (5 years between albums?)

Before I give my liner notes though, a reminder of last year's picks:

• Les Nubians - One Step Forward - Africa meets Jamaica meets France meets Phildalphia
• Roy Hargrove - Hard Groove -a celebration of soul/jazz and funk
• Anthony Hamilton - Coming From Where I'm From - the Bill Withers of southern soul
• Common - Electric Circus - Soulquarian goes Jimi Hendrix
• Dwele - Subject - like butter baby
• Donnie - The Colored Section - essentially Stevie Wonder Jnr
• Orchestra Baobab - Specialist in All styles - le retour du Senegal avec un peu de Cuba
• Parts of the Outkast and Floetry albums and one song from Erykah Badu's Worldwide Undergroud EP.

On to the short list of contestants

As others have noted, the big musical meme this year was "The Return of Prince" (see this piece also), he performed at the Grammys with Beyonce, did the most mind-tingingly explosive guitar solo at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame where he was inducted, released the 20th anniversary edition of the Purple Rain movie, toned down the 'difficult' stuff, seemed comfortable in his shell and with married life, not to mention that he had the the best tour (probably also the most lucrative this year) where he played a lot of guitar, emphasizing the pop-rock side of his work instead of the Fender-Rhodes soul, jazz/funk stylings and Jehovah's Witness' zeal of 2001's The Rainbow Children. More importantly he produced the kind of stripped down one-man-band album that he hadn't released in a long while.

Musicology has a bunch of perfectly constructed songs: the title track is prototypical James Brown, Sly Stone and Bootsy Collins, Reflection - unhurried acoustic guitar. What do you want me to do - a little perfect pop song like he used to throw out with ease (see The Ballad of Dorothy Parker, Pop Life or Raspberry Beret). Once D'Angelo's Untitled (How does it feel) reminded everyone of the kind of lush ballads that Prince used to produce, His Royal Badness needed a comeback and "Call My Name" fits the bill. On the Couch - a hilarious blues like "If I had a Harem" that he performed during the Lovesexy tour. And for me, Dear Mr Man is akin to Sign O' The Times, social commentary with a funky beat. A great album if somewhat nostalgic: like he says on the title track:

"Don’t U miss the feeling music gave U /Back in the day?"

I've already gushed at length on Amel Larrieux's live performance. Suffice to say that her album, Bravebird, is similarly artful. A dozen hypnotic and personal songs about family and love. Soul, hip-hop, jazz, folk, classical and even middle-eastern influences infuse this album with such style. The ballads are lush (Beyond), it's very danceable (Brave Bird, Sacred) and head-nod-dable (Congo - ) and the beats are ethereal. If Tricky had a case of Pre-Millenium Tension, then tracks like Giving Something Up and Say You Want it All are a case of Post-Industrial angst for the 21st century. Timbaland, Missy Elliot and the Neptunes can step aside, this is how it's done: spare, naked funk, with some trumpets floating in and out punctuating the point and the voice as an instrument inside, over and under the track. Omar's Best By Far was the last album that got me as excited and that is saying much. The peaks and valleys are in the right place, there's wonderful vocals and it is all grounded in soul and a personal musical vision - these are auteurs. All in all, a very powerful and emotional outing.

The Tipping Point is not a typical Roots album and purists might prefer Things Fall Apart which had a looser feel or Phrenology which was more experimental.

This has to do with the way it was recorded: first, weeks of jam sessions with a whole host of artists they enjoy and respect and then studio recreations of the best bits - a process that might mean something gets lost. Also as a band, they decided to showcase lead MC, Black Thought, who wasnt' getting the kudos he undoubtedly deserved rather than the normal hip-hop band 'feel' they are known for. My own feeling (see my longer review) was that this approach was inspired and a great success.

They've certainly hit a groove. It's like Prince circa 1986-7 when the Miles Davis horns came into his arrangements on the Parade. They've done the kiss-off album (Phrenology as Around the World in a Day) to throw off fairweather fans. They are now going for the vituousic and this works perfectly. Could a Sign O' The Times be in the offing next?

I suspect that this will be the album the critics will latch to and for good reason. It's a strong sophomore return from "Jilly from Philly". The subtitle is "Words and Sounds Volume 2" but there is less overt poetry than in the first album.

I saw her live in early 2000, months before she blew up and crossed-over to the big leagues. The show, at lowly Avalon, was a revelation and personal affair, think Prince at First Avenue as he previewed the tracks from Purple Rain in early 1984 just before the hysteria broke out. It was basically grungy college students and a lucky few who had heard the word. Six months later, the venue had changed, she sold out the Fleetcenter Pavillion. The black bourgeoisie was out in full effect to support their girl and this was a capitalized Event. She'd also crossed over and so Boston's finest were on display. Soccer moms felt comfortable dropping Jenny and Biff off to listen to our Jill. It was a celebration but less personal.

She still strives to maintain that unassuming girl-next-door feel but I suspect she can't quite resist the larger-than-life Diva pose when she takes charge of audiences these days. Who can blame her if both audience and record company canonize you as "The Real Deal (tm)".

About the music. First, the remixers are going to have a field day. This is the soul equivalent of Jay-Z's Black Album: there's something for everyone and you can take it in any direction. She is a very stylized vocalist, striving to make each song feel different and unlike much of the cookie-cutter "R&B" you hear on the radio. For example, on last year's collaboration with Common on I am Music and Heaven Somewhere she was sounding like Portishead's Beth Gibbons while the other divas (e.g. Mary J. Blige) were standard soul.

She keeps the same production team, A Touch of Jazz and James Poyser, who lay down great backing tracks for her to play with. She's now married and very happy with that; it shows in the writing and the confident, celebratory feel of the album. Also note that she's still obsessed with food; I guess an album without a mention of grits would be out of the question

The standouts: I'm Not Afraid - a female manifesto with some vicous beats. Bedda at Home will destroy any dancefloor and make homeboy exclaim: "That's what I'm talking about!!" as he jiggles his butt. Family Reunion - perfectly captures the late summer barbecue feel and would have been this summer's jam if she'd gotten the album out earlier. This is bravura songwriting and a great performance.

Van Hunt has given us such a lovely soul album. It reminds me of Bobby Womack, Al Green and Curtis Mayfield with a twist of Sly Stone. I guess amongst his contemporaries you'd have to put him alongside Dwele, Donnie, Tony! Toni! Tone!, Lenny Kravitz, Maxwell, and Rashaan Patterson. I mention all of these names to give an idea of the caliber of the man. Supremely confident, Van Hunt writes and produces himself ala Tony Rich Project. He's Down Here in Hell (With You) is a beautiful, beautiful song; you feel you've grown up with this song. Similarly with Her December or Anything (to get your attention) which are genius. The craft in the song-writing and arrangements is evident as in the lazy and plaintive blues stroll of Seconds of Pleasure or Who will Love me in Winter. The voice sometimes tends to the falsetto. There's also a rock tinge that keeps you on your toes: this isn't your garden variety R&B, this is soul music, grown-folks music, the stuff that you listen to late nights in Q's Jook Joint with your honey and some good friends, the soundtrack of laughs, friendship and love. He's the real deal, I definitely want to see him live.

I'll always throw in some UK soul into the mix. This is an album that will hit the States next year and will sell lots even if the record company is incompetent. Tell others that I hipped you to this before everyone got into it. The blurb:

The result of a five year search by former Fine Young Cannibals songwriter David Steele to find the perfect singer, Fried combines Steele's undeniable talents with that of 23-year old New Orleans gospel singer Jonte Short.

People will compare Jonte's voice to Macy Gray if only because it's so different from the norm. But it's nothing like Macy or Aretha Franklin or anyone else that you've heard. It's angular and it's salty and I love it. The arrangements are great, it's like a great Al Green or Sam Cooke album that your mum would be singing in the shower, or when she came home and took her shoes off. A musical massage ala Leon Ware.

Like Sade, the first lady of soul is back and it's an event. In the same way that I'll kill for a good Alexander O'Neal or Cherelle album, I run to my record store (actually its the Amazon.com One-Click thing) and buy an Anita Baker joint sight unseen (hearing unheard?). A decade since her last release, she comes back with ten new classics. Thankfully this is not your easy listening or smooth jazz deal, this is a real Anita Baker soul album. 'Nuff said: it's great, go buy it.

In the tradition of Fela, this New York/Nigeria Afro-beat collective bring acerbic social and political commentary (on Bush, Ashcroft, Imperialism) laced with funk, salsa and the infectious African groove. Sharp percussion and horns blend into something that grows on you immediately. 70 minutes of fun, of humour, of dance music. There are shifting beats and shifting tempos like those old highlife albums from the 50s. Musical inventiveness pervades the piece; you won't be able to sit down. About the only thing flaw is the lack of some female voices in the call and response. James Brown may have had Bobby Bland singing Git on Up, but he also knew that you needed some Memphis Soul babes in the background. Fela, Femi Kuti, not to mention Koffi Olomide tour with with electic female dancers and backing singers. It's not just eye candy or showmanship; it informs the tenor of the performance. Where are your girlfriends, fellas?

Kanye West is clearly deserving of producer of the year since he's had essentially a song in the top 10 all year writing for Twista, Dilated Peoples, Slum Village amongst others). I enjoy his sensibility and the musicial direction on the album a lot. The beats are original, the samples are well chosen, it's hip-hop grounded in gospel and the great soul singers of yore. I like the fact that a backpacker can make it to public acclaim, wearing formal jackets and as opposed to track suits or baggy pants. I like especially that a hip-hop artist (or any artist) can get get away with a Number 1 hit overtly about religion (Jesus Walks) with marching bands.

The only thing is that he just doesn't have the flow or the voice; Black Thought would massacre him in a battle. And even though he's very intelligent, I'm not one for this fake anti-intellectual pose: college dropout? Come on... Nevertheless, this album has sold a ton and has brought him much acclaim. He deserves it; it's exciting that something this focused can break out.

Having obviously seen what the Philly connection did last year for Les Nubians with whom she toured, Zap Mama go wholeheartedly for the Philadelphia production and the result is great. Collaborating with Erykah Badu, Common, Talib Kweli, Bahamadia and QuestLove of The Roots, this is essentially a Soulquarian joint, rooted in Philly. What's not to like, my favourite collective come through again. The track with Scratch (ex Roots), Wadidyusay? is acappella heaven: Congo pygmy music meets hip-hop beatbox mastery. There's less of Africa here than in the past and as in Les Nubian's masterpiece but it's a wonderful album set for much repeated listening.

Another solid, if commercial, album from Miss Mahogany Soul, much loved by all the big girls out there (if Jill Scott goes on about food, Angie is concerned with body image). I say commercial because she brings on Snoop Dogg as a guest. Still she's one of the hardest-working female vocalists. It's a long album There's very little filler but at the same time there isn't much experimentation. On the other hand, there are at least 10 songs that are club classics and dance floor bangers. And of course any album featuring Antony Hamilton and Betty Wright is all right by me. Not to damn her with faint praise though, I sometimes wish that she'd occasionally let someone else do the production and/or writing, Jam and Lewis perhaps.

Two complaints tangential to the album itself: the acoustics were horrible during her concert in Boston, in fact her opening act, Lyfe, had better acoustics which says something about her road crew and sound engineers. Second, what is it with record companies trying to copy-protect CDs especially of soul singers? First the Anthony Hamilton album and now Angie Stone. These artists need the bucks and copy protection will turn buyers away and annoy them. Anyway remember to press the shift key when you insert the cd into your computer. Just on principle, I ripped it and am sharing to the world.

What can you say about Bjork who goes acapella on this round. No instruments, just layers of voices as percussion, harmony or with some jarring squeals. Like Zap Mama too, she enlists a Philadelphia and ex-Roots Beat-box guru, Rahzel, the so-called "Godfather of Noise". Well Bjork is her own self and there is no one quite like her in pop music. Nod your head to this Icelandic ear candy.

Le funk. Gritty funk. Sweaty funk. Nasty funk. Hard funk.
I Funk. You Funk. He Funks. We Funk.
Conjugate the verb to funk please.
George Clinton would definitely tweak to this.

Give it up for Jigga for Izzo, for Hova... His last album? A retirement party for the man at the top of the game? Say it ain't so. Remixed so many times that you need Google to keep track of things (see DJ Danger Mouse's The Grey Album - Jay-Z meets The Beatles White album - or The Purple Album - Jay-Z meets Prince). This was bumping in jeeps and clubs everywhere, even in your cousin's dodgy Honda Civic. Get the Dirt of your Shoulder, ignore your 99 Problems, Change Clothes if you like. What More Can I Say.

Honorable Mentions

Dizzee Rascal - Boy in Da Corner

A hungry MC from London, voracious on the microphone. Place a Cockney accent over garage and drum and bass breaks and a street sensibility emerges. "Fix up, Look Sharp" was infectious.

The Streets - A Grand Don't Come for Free

His conversational style takes some getting used to but is a winner.

Joss Stone - The Soul Sessions.

Strictly speaking this came out last year but I only dug it recently. She does have the voice, now if they'll let her do more of her own songs. I understand a new album is in the can and hope that her promise comes through. There's so much goodwill for her plus she's a marketeer's dream: white, English voice with a voice like Marlena Shaw.

And so on to The 2004 Koranteng's Toli Music awards

Album of the year
Winner: The Roots - The Tipping Point

This would be a three-way tie by all accounts:
Prince simply because he had the best show and a decent Prince album in any year would be at the top;
Amel Larrieux because she got me excited about the possibilities of music and her album is superb;
The Roots because the five song sequence of Star, Guns are Drawn, Stay Cool, Web and Boom has to be the strongest of the year. Rendered live they took no prisoners not to mention the outtakes, Din Da daa and Melting Pot which are club gems.

Since I have to give the award, The Roots have it.

Soul album of the year
Winner: Amel Larrieux - Brave Bird

I love you Jill Scott but Amel's sophomore outing is the greater work. Be consoled that both you and Angie Stone will sell 2 million more albums than Amel...

Producer of the year
Winner: Kanye West

Well Kanye West had more hits than even the Neptunes so he gets the nod. Anyone who brings back Chaka Khan breaks and was collaborating with Rick James knows what he's doing.

Best New Artist
Tie: Fried and Van Hunt

I can't decide this one so it has to be a tie between the two self-titled debuts: Fried and Van Hunt. Perhaps, I should split this up by geography: in the United States, let's have Van Hunt, outside it should be Fried. Best Live Performance
Winner: Prince Say no more... Even the Fleetcenter's passable acoustics couldn't deny the strength of Prince's show and the tightness of his band, The New Power Generation (Maceo Parker on saxophone, Greg Boyer on trombone, and the ever-sexy Rhonda Smith on bass and Candy Dulfer, you know "When I want sax, I call Candy", that Candy, not to mention the monstrous John Blackwell on drums, Renata with the jazz stylings on keyboards and Reverend Mike Scott sharing rhythm guitar duties). This was partying like it was 1999. Amel Larrieux lurks of course...

Other good shows: Femi Kuti (when's the next album coming?), Orchestra Baobab - a great party, Kekele (laidback Congolese Rumba) and Gladys Knight (with one Pip).

So there we have it: a comeback, some breakthroughs and lots of musical excitement to keep me spending my hard-earned Lotus cedis. Not a bad year in artistic achievement. Erykah Badu and D'Angelo what's your response?

[Crossposted at blogcritics.org]

File under: music, soul, funk, hip-hop, pop, afrobeat, Jill Scott, The Roots, Prince, Bjork, Amel%20Larrieux, , Van Hunt, Fried, Anita Baker, Antibalas, Kanye West, Jay-Z, Amp Fiddler, Zap Mama, Angie Stone, Les Nubians, Dwele, Roy Hargrove, Orchestra Baobab, Donnie, virtuosity, toli