The responsibility of writing protest songs is hardwired into Seun Kuti’s DNA. The 35-year-old bandleader and saxophonist is the youngest son of Fela Kuti, the Afrobeat pioneer who started his own Movement of the People party, penned lyrics that brazenly took shots at Nigerian politicians and, in the case of “Zombie,” provoked a bloody military attack on the Kalakuta Republic commune and recording facility that he’d founded in Lagos. Channeling this fiery legacy, Seun Kuti’s Black Times, the fourth album he’s recorded in cahoots with his father’s Egypt 80 ensemble, forcefully drives home the infectious protest power of Afrobeat.
“Last Revolutionary” sparks the eight-track set into life. Powered by Shinan Abiodun’s furious snares, Oladimeji Akinyele’s trumpet blasts lead the charge as Kuti anoints himself “the walking, talking struggle of my people.” This belief in the power of change pulses through the rest of the album. The title song, which features bluesy, wavering guitar by Carlos Santana, is rooted the idea of learning from history to achieve physical and spiritual of freedom. “Theory of Goat and Yam” pairs pounding bass and live-wire alto-sax blasts with lyrics inspired by the former Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan, who justified embezzlement by comparing it to goats wolfing down yams left tantalizingly within reach. “Corporate Public Control Department (CPCD)” is a funked-up critique of self-serving politicians the world over that’s powered by spunky waves of brass. “Promise to give me peace and you give me war,” Kuti cries. “You promise me justice and then you jail the poor/You promise jobs and you close the factory/But there’s always work in the penitentiary.”
This working- class angle is Black Times’ defining motif, and it transcends African politics to speak directly to all those feeling the daily burden of economic oppression. On “African Dreams,” Kuti rallies against those suckered into chasing American capitalist goals at the expense of their own heritage and welfare. “Struggle Sounds” opens with a rousing, four-to-the-floor beat before introducing rapid-fire brass stabs and slinky keys over which Kuti delivers a defiant message: “I make that struggle music as the voice of the people/Struggle sound like the weapon of the future.”
Key to Afrobeat’s appeal is the way the music marries political messages to bewitchingly upbeat grooves. On Kuti’s watch, the experience is never preachy. Incendiary lyrics are delivered in a call-and-response fashion against tuneful brass riffs; expansive instrumental sections of songs skillfully add and detract instruments while building the grand groove of it all. And where Fela was fond of 10-minute-plus flights of revolutionary fantasy, most of the songs on Black Times are capped at the six- or seven minute mark, casting the album as an extra potent and smartly distilled primer on the punch of Afrobeat.
Growing up to the world as Fela Kuti’s son will naturally always cast something of a shadow over Seun Kuti’s music, but Black Times comes across as both a respectful reminder of his legacy and a demonstration of Kuti’s own fresh talent. Humble enough to acknowledge his place in a grander lineage, “Last Revolutionary” features Kuti embarking on a metaphysical roll call. “I be Marcus Garvey/I be Kwame Ture/I be Shaka Zulu,” he proudly proclaims, before delivering the knowing kicker: “I be Fela Kuti.”
