This week World Beat pays tribute to two giants of popular music who passed away recently: Congolese music icon and singer Papa and Prince, the tiny guitar wizard and musical genius from Minneapolis in the USA.
I tried several times to interview Papa Wemba in the 1980s and early 1990s when he was beginning to break into the international arena on the back of the World Music boom. He emerged along with stars like Mahlathini and Mahotella Queens (South Africa), Ali Farka Toure and Salif Keita (both Mali), Yousou N’Dour (Senegal), Remmy Ongala (Tanzania), Toto la Mompesina (Colombia) and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (Pakistan). I did manage to speak briefly with him but each time I arranged an interview he never arrived, having left a message to say he’d “gone shopping”. Same story with his compatriot Kanda Bongo Man. Congolese sapeurs, whose style is their identity, love shopping for designer togs.
Jules Shungu Wembadio Pene Kikumba was a pioneer of Congolese popular music, part of the “new wave” that took Congolais rumba, a potent dance music created by the likes of legends Franco, Dr. Nico, Tabu Ley Rochereau, and created a faster, new style.
He made his debut at the end of the sixties, as a singer. Despite political upheavals at the time, the music was dominated by the huge orchestras of stars like Franco, with their banks of guitarists and brass, chorus, dancers and animateurs. Wemba and like-minded high school mates formed Zaiko Langa Langa (named after an ethnic group). Strapped for cash, these young ‘uns dumped the brass section and brought in keyboards; they also dropped the slow intro of Congolais rumba, jumping straight into the sebene, an up tempo improvised instrumental section usually in the middle of songs. They revolutionised the music, leading to new styles like ndambolo and the emergence of those like Koffi Olomide who were given a break in Zaiko or some of Wemba’s own bands.
Papa Wemba.
Wemba left Zaiko with fellow band members Bozi Boziana and Evoloko and in 1977 he formed his seminal band, Viva La Musica. His band was phenomenally successful and he became a style icon at the same time, and leader of the Sapeurs (full name: Societe des Ambiancers et des Personnes d’Elegance), whose elegant style and designer gear made them famous and influential.
Wemba was a musical innovator; he brought in the lokole log drum (you can hear it on his 90s albums like Foridoles). He took in talented youngsters like Olomide and taught them the tricks of the trade. Both musicians would join each other’s albums — Wemba’s falsetto dovetailing perfectly with Olomide’s smooth Barry White-esque delivery. He found international fame with a 1985 album, Emotion, on Peter Gabriel’s Real World label but he kept a band in Kinshasa to produce albums for his African fans; if truth be told, these local albums are much funkier than his international albums.
I saw Wemba quite a few times and he never disappointed whether it was with a pick-up band or a bigger orchestra. He was a sweet-voiced giant of African popular music and he will be sorely missed.
Just a shocking as Papa Wemba passing away while performing on stage was the news of the death of Prince, certainly one of the most creative musicians working in the USA over the past 30 years.
I first heard the stick-thin musical genius when someone gave me a copy of his first album, For You, in 1979. The news was that this young man was as talented a musician as the young Stevie Wonder was and much was made of his ability to play all the instruments on his debut album. While the album was a good debut it was albums three and four, Dirty Mind and Controversy, that really caught my attention — both albums were chock full of perfectly formed electronic pop songs, driven by funk, wild lyrics and vocals and a sense of space that had Miles Davis raving.
And yet at that time, Prince was only popular with the gay and club scenes. His breakout, crossover albums, 1999 and Purple Rain, came just after and catapulted him to global fame.
In Bangkok in the mid-1980s you could hear Prince songs like When Doves Cry (1984) and Kiss (1986) blasting out from bars, clubs and tuk-tuks. Indeed, some years ago I was watching the Australian skiffle band The Old Spice Boys at the Rainforest World Music Festival in Sarawak, on Borneo island and was stunned by one of the best covers of Kiss I’ve ever heard — with all the funk riffs masterfully played on Azo Bell’s ukulele. Now that’s influence and fame.
World Beat would like to pay respect to these two great musicians, who will be sorely missed. I’ll be playing some of their music at my next Speakeasy Shabeen DJ night at Studio Lam on June 4.
This source first appeared on Bangkok Post Lifestyle.