Wide-eyed ravegoers have often told of the communal catharsis that can occur after several hours of dancing, and of the spiritual relevance surrounding their experience of simultaneous individual expression and total absorption within a crowd. Unfortunately, what often leaves these people ultimately disillusioned or feeling empty is the lack of ideological substance behind the power of the party. Modern American and European musicians have rarely figured out how to steer the positive, beat-driven galvanization that occurs on the dancefloor toward a larger purpose, such as political action. Our music of protest and revolution instead tends to be vague, preachy, or angry, musically stemming from folk or punk/hardcore influences. This trend originates in an inherent cultural bias that form should reflect content-- that music should sound as serious, sad, volatile, or important as its topic.
Fela Kuti, the wildly successful Nigerian trumpeter, saxophonist, keyboardist and bandleader who passed away in 1997, grew from a different tradition. He pioneered the genre of Afrobeat, a mix of jazz and funk with traditional African themes. Much of Kuti's music was a call to action, criticizing his government for its injustices and corruption, and urging the poor of Nigeria and larger Africa to think and act independently. His popularity and effectiveness was such that he was jailed several times by the government, and his elderly mother killed by the army during a raid on his compound. Yet throughout his career, the most vital element in his work remained a constant affirmation of individual power through partying and dancing-- resistance through aesthetic opposition. The name of the political party he founded in 1979 was "Movement of the People", and one suspects he was referring to "movement" both in the broad and specific senses.
The Underground Spiritual Game is an unbroken set of Kuti's music taken from throughout his career, meticulously compiled and mixed by Chief Xcel. Xcel is one half of Blackalicious, a hip-hop act that have themselves begun realizing the full potential of discourse inherent in their genre, and Xcel hopes to continue making his way through Fela Kuti's enormous output. Though touted as a "remix" of Kuti's work, The Underground Spiritual Game leaves the original sounds relatively untouched. Instead, Chief Xcel seamlessly melds selections from 11 of Kuti's tracks, occasionally adding effects, and inserting spoken snippets of Fela speaking. It's put together in a manner that stands as a testament to Kuti's political views, but pays equal homage to his musical impact.
Fela's songs are built on repeated midtempo grooves, and structured around call-and-response sections between Kuti and his band. The jazz influence is readily apparent in the solos, as well as the hooks of his horn section. But the music centers on Kuti's espoused ideology of "Pan-Africanism." His songs are highly polyrhythmic, with several simultaneous meters often being kept by the percussion, bass, and guitar. Solos catch themselves in loops recalling those of traditional Mbira music-- circular melodies without beginning or end. The songs are sung mostly in Pidgin English, Kuti's voice howling and jumping, stressing unexpected syllables, and leaping over beats or extending phrases. The Underground Spiritual Game captures this nicely, making its way through several of his best-loved pieces, and closing with the popular 17-minute "Africa Centre of the World", inspired by Kuti's burgeoning interest in Afrocentric philosophy.
Not even Kuti was safe from the cynicism that seems to befall most activists as they age, but even so, his took on a positive tone. As explained by friend Mabinuori Idowu in this disc's liner notes, the song "Look and Laugh" is Kuti saying, "I've sung songs to confront the system. They burnt my house. I've sung songs to open your eyes. They put me in jail. I've done all these things to enlighten you. And what do you give me in return? You complacently do nothing, so I might as well sit back, look and laugh." The seeming immutability of the world leads many toward nihilism. Kuti, however, accepted it with transcendence through absurdity, reflected in the song itself by ending with a deadpan "ha ha ha ha/ hee hee hee hee" refrain and ascending chromatic scale in the bass. The message of Fela Kuti's music was directed toward his countrymen, but applies to listeners world wide: Fight for change, but don't forget the joy of the life you're fighting for.
