Ma J’aiye Oni – King Sunny Ade
The winter of 1982-3. Finsbury Park. Top floor attic room, living with Mumtaz. I think I must have got myself an agent by now – David Preston. More about him later. He came to see me in A Clockwork Orange on the King’s Road, the John Godber adaptation. More about that later too. My memory is dim of these events and their surrounding characters, much much more so than other people I talk to. Some people can pin point what things people were wearing on certain days. WOW. I mean, my memory is seriously hardly there to be honest. So why would I embark on a marathon blog attempting to chart my life through music if I can’t remember two thirds of it ? Well partly to get those bits that I do remember down on virtual paper before they too disappear and become smokey robinson’s barley water, wisps of smudge on a page that once held such vivid clarity. I live in the moment mainly so it isn’t a vast un-ending tragedy, but it can be a handicap. My friends can nudge me into memories, and when I really concentrate for a length of time… the mists seem to part and there, just out of reach, an arm breaches the waterline, and in its clenched fist a sword, and then I know that I’m actually making it all up. But I’m not dear reader, I’m not. All these Pop Lives happened.
Anyway the attic room in Finsbury Park. It was around this point that World Music started to leak into the country, via WOMAD (see My Pop Life #67), Stern’s Music Store in Whitfield St (see My Pop Life #38), the John Peel Show, and word of mouth. I’m not sure where the term “World Music” came from but certainly on June 21 1982 France held a Fête de la Musique for the first time, at the behest of Culture Minister Jack Lang, and have held it ever since. Many other countries have joined in – the day is devoted to playing music in the streets – from Russia to the US to Brazil to Italy, but it seems that the United Kingdom has deigned not to join in for reasons I can only speculate over. In any event, African music started being played now and again on the John Peel show and in late 1981 the compilation of West african music Sound d’Afrique was released by Island Records with groups such as Etoile De Dakar containing the future superstar of world music Youssou N’Dour. 1982 brought a second volume which I bought, and then King Sunny Ade came to my attention via his LP Juju Music.
It was splashed all over the NME front page and could hardly be missed. On the Mango label, produced by Frenchman Martin Meissonnier and very definitely aimed at the western market, (at me!) it’s a brilliant record, a showstopper, showcasing Ade’s trademark Nigerian juju rhythms with a slight electro tinge. His best songs, usually 20 minutes long in their Nigerian context, are here shortened and sweetened, but not too much. The key component is the talking drum, held under the arm and squeezed, you can change the note of the drumbeat. So-called because they have been used as communication tools in West Africa for forever. As a musical instrument they are thrilling. I have one ! The other unexpected element is the beautifully evocative slide guitar. The production is immaculate and the whole package was a winner. I’ve chosen a beautiful song Ma Jaiye Oni to represent his juju beat.
King Sunny Ade and His African Beats played a gig at the Lyceum Ballroom on the Strand in January 1983. I went along with Mumtaz. I can’t remember who supported him, if anyone, but this was an astounding gig. Full of Nigerians as well as curious music fans it was an unmitigated triumph. A huge line-up onstage of drummers, guitarists and singers, pure joy emanating from the performers. They played for a long time. One West-African tradition that I was unaware of will forever stay with me from this show. Ade would be playing a guitar solo in the middle of a song – the crowd would be dancing and encouraging him, a definite energy going back and forth between band and crowd – then a man dressed in robes, or a suit maybe would walk up to the front and in an uber-ostentatious way pull out a roll of £20 or £50 notes and place them one at a time on King Sunny Ade’s body as he was playing, sticking them to his sweating forehead or his arms. I was waiting for security to get involved, but this was a ritual with no danger – money is going forward. I have seen it many times since at African gigs but that was the eye-opener. I know plenty of British and American musicians who wish it was a tradition in the “West” too. Oh well.
It was a window onto another world for me, so much more than sitting down and getting stoned and listening to the record – great thought that is – this was an immersion into the music that went far beyond the comfy chair. I was hooked on African music thanks to King Sunny Ade and have been ever since. I then bought his earlier LP Check-‘E’ (see pic above) and the follow-up Synchro System which was a huge hit too. He is still going strong playing his music around the world and I commend him to thee.
Here is some tremendous footage from Japan in 1984 – this is exactly the show we saw at the Lyceum. Subtle, powerful, mesmerising, infectious, delicious.
Here is the original LP track:
but the shorter song from JUJU MUSIC is not on youtube sadly. You may have to buy it !