Gibraltar Drakus literally exploded from his first album Hommage A Zanzibar (1989), which sold over 100,000 copies despite rampant piracy. For the recording, Drakus made sure he engaged prolific producer Mystic Jim to record and mix the album. Drakus’ other band during that period was Les Martiens but due to leadership disagreements they didn’t play on the album. He was advised and encouraged by Mystic Jim to change band personnel for the recording and work with Simba Daniel Evoussa on solo guitar, Pierrot Ahenot on rhythm guitar and Jean-Paul Litché on bass.

The innovation musically rests both within the guitar interplay and the discipline in the orchestration, which result in a mind-bending clockwork of cross-rhythmic harmony. Sublime on several levels the music is remarkably relaxed in its gymnastic execution. He aimed for the sound to exist somewhere between the sensibilities of the famous Les Veterans, Zanzibar and Messi Martin. He had worked a lot of Zanzibar and Messi Martin, both of whom allowed him to fully immerse himself in bikutsi and Beti music. “Zanzibar is the one who taught me how to compose a song, and I learned a lot from Zanzibar musically. We spent whole nights working on methods and other approaches to compose beautiful songs. I owe half of everything I have today to Zanzibar!”

He was quite young at the time of the recording, much younger than most bikutsi artists of the era. He brought a different type of energy, he says, and that was something he relished showing his bandmates in Les Têtes Brûlées and Les Martiens. The former sidelined him from their famous debut European tour (immortalized in the Claire Denis film Man No Run), as he was too young and should finish school, they told him. Despite providing him a place to increase his visibility as a solo artist while he was frustrated with his groups, his association with Inter Diffusion Systems ended in disappointment. The label never paid him royalties from Hommage A Zanzibar and a later album Zobiakkk.

On their debut album released by Awesome Tapes From Africa, Native Soul demonstrate the depth of the musical well they draw from. The drawling tempo and synth chords on "Way to Cairo", the album’s second song, are reminiscent of a certain type of Kwaito popular with pantsula culture. The most discernible nod to Afro House on Teenage Dreams comes in the form of "Dead Sangoma"'s percussive drums. Similarly, the aptly named “United As One” carries a tinge of Moloko’s Sing It Back which was released in 1999, became anthemic in South Africa and continues to represent a belle epoque of electronic music in the country.There is no single song that stands out far above any other on Teenage Dreams, it is Native Soul duo’s experimentation, composition and arrangements that make the album a strong first offering which exceeds the expectations of the young duo. Throughout the album, each song develops patiently—introducing various instruments and elements in turn. With each layer added, the emotion elicited from the listener is deepened. In this way, Teenage Dreams is not just a dance album, but one that understands what can be gained when artistic maturity meets experimentation. 

DJ Black Low burst on the international scene in 2021 with Uwami, a collection of his early, downright avant-garde amapiano work. The young producer and DJ makes electronic music that sounds like nothing else: glitchy and fierce while smooth and soulful, all under the rubric of South Africa’s most-exported dance music movement to date.

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. 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.

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. 
— NAHAWA DOUMBIA
 

Mergia's new album Yene Mircha ("My Choice" in Amharic) encapsulates many of the things that make the keyboardist, accordionist and composer-arranger remarkable—elements that have persisted to maintain his vitality all these years, through the ebb and flow of his career. The rock solid trio with whom he has toured the world most recently, DC-based Alemseged Kebede (bass) and Ken Joseph (drums), forms the nucleus around which an expanded band makes a potent response to the contemporary jazz future "Lala Belu" promised. Yene Mircha calcifies Mergia's prolific stream of creativity and his philosophy that there is a multitude of Ethiopian musical approaches, not just one sound.

Enlisting the help of master mesenqo (traditional stringed instrument) player Setegn Atenaw, celebrated vocalist Tsehay Kassa and legendary saxophone player Moges Habte from his 70s outfit Walias Band, Mergia enhances his bright, electric band on this recording with an expanded line up on some songs. Mergia produced the album which features several of his original compositions along with songs by Asnakesh Worku and Teddy Afro. An artist still reinventing his sound every night on stage during his marathon live sets, this 74-year-old icon refuses to make the same album twice. His creative process in the studio—starting with the core band, then after listening extensively over weeks and months adding more sounds and instruments—is as urgent and risky as his concerts can be, pushing the band to the outer limits of group improvisation and back with chord extensions during his exploratory solos. Yene Mircha captures this live experience and fosters an expansive view of what else could be in store for this tireless practitioner of Ethiopian music.

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.

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.