My Pop Life #224 : Zouk la Sé Sél Médikaman Nou Ni – Kassav’


Zouk la Sé Sél Médikaman Nou Ni – Kassav

Kijan zot fé
M’pa ka konpran’n
Zot ka viv’ kon si
Pa ni pwoblém’
Poutan zot sav’
Lavi la réd
Kijan zot fé
Pou pé sa kenbé

It’s french-caribbean patois – in this case from the island of Guadeloupe.  The song came past my ear sometime in late 1987, just before my girlfriend Rita Wolf and I embarked on our epic two-month trip around India.  Where did I hear it?   In Sterns record shop where I used to hang out browsing and listening to new sounds – mainly from Africa, for by now I was hooked on African Pop Music thanks to a chance encounter with Franco & TPOK Jazz from Congo (see My Pop Life #38 – Liberté) and Sterns would always have the latest records.  It was a vinyl shop, although they had a few tape cassettes too, and some T-shirts.  I had been basically mining (colonial imperial verb) the Congo sound from this point.


I’d bought Sound D’Afrique volumes one & two, released by Island records way back in 1982.  Thrilling stuff.  Overlapping guitar lines, horns which cross the bar lines, light melodic vocals, irresistible beats.  The bigger names (to the European consumers of which I was one) were Pablo from Congo and Etoile De Dakar which was Youssou N’Dour‘s first band from Senegal.   My favourite song was from Cameroon, still one of my favourite African tracks by Moussa Doumbia,  on this LP :


The 2nd Sound D’Afrique LP was subtitled “Soukous” which was the name of the musical hybrid played in the Congo at that time, and listened to and danced to right across the African continent.  Those two LPs were an introduction to African Pop via Island Records – and although I’d already found my own way there (see the blog link to Liberté) I trusted that they had found some good sounds for me to follow, some breadcrumb trails for me to chase down.  I’d heard M’bilia Bel in Sterns (see My Pop Life #180 Boya Ye) and bought the song, and a fantastic Regine Feline song from Gabon, still soukous.  This new song in my ear sounded like all of this.


Digression :

Then there were the WOMAD LPs too – from Europe and Asia as well as Africa.  I wrote about discovering Asha Bhosle in My Pop Life #67 – Yun Na Thi.


WOMAD = World of Music Arts and Dance and it was created by Peter Gabriel and a host of friends in 1982.  The resulting commemorative LP I have discussed due to finding it explosively stimulating and opening all kinds of doors from Mighty Sparrow (My Pop Life #4 – Music & Rhythm) to the Drummers of Burundi (whom Malcolm McLaren had “been inspired by” with Adam Ant & Bow Wow Wow).  The term the music industry started to use was World Music.  A new shelf in Virgin, Our Price or HMV, sometimes divided into countries, often all together.  My OCD & spectrum brain immediately located a problem.  What is World Music ?  Is it – as the industry claimed – “anything that wasn’t Western rock & pop & soul” which meant from the UK or the USA?  It was easy to file African Pop country by country even as the music crossed boundaries, as music is wont to do.  But, said my brain, what about Scottish traditional music, or Irish music.  Is that World Music too?  The first WOMAD festival would say yes, of course, because there were Peter Hammill, The Beat, Echo & The Bunnymen and The Chieftains at that legendary gathering.  But who cares right ?  World Music is now seen as a racist phrase by some guardians of righteousness, and the new phrase Global Music has replaced it.  Sounds like another marketing event to me.


Back in Sterns I was a bit stoned and this song came on which made the whole shop twitch and dance and me explode with mirth around the ellipsis…

Zouk-la c’est seule medikaman nou ni Ca con sa !

At least that’s how I spelled it (see above).  I understood the chorus right away – Zouk is the only medicine we need.  But what was Zouk now ?  Soukous’ godson?  I bought the LP on the spot it was this one :


…by Georges Decimus and Jacob Desvarieux and blow me down if it wasn’t African at all but from the Caribbean.  Tiny mind blown – one more line crossed, one more mystery explained.  The diaspora.  The cross-fertilisation continued back and forth across the Atlantic just as it had with the blues and then the British invasion in the sixties (except without the slavery), and the Congo > Cuba > Congo > Guadeloupe !

Their band, the mighty Kassav’ was formed in Guadeloupe by Jacob Desvarieux and Pierre-Edouard Decimus (who later brought his brother Jacob into the band) with a conscious desire to create a form of music which combined Pierre-Eduard’s roots & knowledge of more traditional French Caribbean music :  Haitian kompas, beguine and gwoka from Guadeloupe, Dominican merengue with African soukous.  These sounds would all coalesce in Paris and Guadeloupe (which, like Martinique is a departément of France and sends MPs to Parliament and is indeed a caribbean part of the EU) and Kassav’ was formed.  They called the music ZOUK.  The LP I bought was a solo duet from two of the members, but the song appears on numerous Kassav’ LPs.  Later I would buy Jocelyn Berouard‘s Siwo from the same year.  They are still going strong, and play around the world.


What was it that turned this white boy onto African Pop, to World Music, to soukous & zouk & bossa nova & rai ?  Drugs, yes.  Of course.  An endless limitless curiosity of the ear.  New sounds, new singers.  Criss-cross rhythms that explode with happiness as TeddyOsei of Osibisa once said.  And I never identified with being white, or English, or anything really.  I resent official forms which ask for which ethnicity you are.  I always put “human”.  I mean.  Do you believe in segregation OR NOT?


In late 1987 I had the world at my feet, and I don’t mean the music, I mean as an actor and a writer.  I just didn’t know it.  There were also forces to contend with.  I had been going out with Rita for two years and we were quite feisty within our loving.  We’d planned this huge trip to India which felt to me like a voyage of discovery with long train journeys and new experiences, and to Rita was that plus visiting relatives and finally, in Calcutta / Kolkata – her mother.  I’d met Mrs Ghose in Swiss Cottage, but she’d chosen to spend the winter back in West Bengal and who knows when she would return.  So Rita and I were both looking forward and being expectant of a break from normal in slightly different ways.  But we both needed to get away.  Rita had been on tour with Joint Stock Theatre Company – the play Sanctuary which I’d written after a wonderful workshop earlier in the year (see My Pop Life #86 I Know You Got Soul) and My Pop Life #156 Paid In Full) and while she’d been on tour around the UK I’d done a film with Phil Collins called Buster about the Great Train Robbery, where I’d played Ronnie Biggs*.  We were both exhausted.

*Really I should have had a publicist even back then no?  LOL

Little did I know how exhausting India would be.  For another post. But my diary from November 1987 (precious, burbling whinge that it is) does at least record all the music which I LOVED back then, and this song was a major event.  Also from this era – Alpha Blondy, the discovery of rai from Algeria and Salif Keita from Mali another rich delicious source of sound.


These people are challenging my translation !

What is strange though is that within 9 months of this purchase I would have my first date with Jenny Jules who would later become my wife, my one true love.  No disrespect to Mumtaz, Rita or Miriam, but she is the one, the final one.  The one.  And little did I know until recently that Jenny’s family also owned this song (along with another WOMAD song Prince Nico M’Barga‘s Sweet Mother an absolute classic coming soon to the blog) and played it at parties.  French patois indeed was her parents’ language, since they are both from St Lucia which changed hands over the colonial period no less than 13 times.  St Lucians are conversant in both English and French as a result.  If you’re not familiar with the language, French patois is a little like Jamaican patois is to English.  IF you stop trying to translate it and just listen it becomes clearer (to me at least). So when I first spent time with her parents later on around their house in Wembley, they would speak patois to each other and I heard the word “culottes” which I immediately translated OUT LOUD like an idiot as “knickers“.

The shock reverberated across North London.  Gens Blanc can speak patois !@#!?!  Well not quite.  But he can speak French, and with a little help from Kassav’ – the Guadeloupe band that Jacob and George & Pierre-Edouard formed – I could find my way through some of what was said.  Imagine.

The song opens with a five-chord fanfare then a deep but laid-back carib voice suggests “Envoie“.

Send it.

the original track from 1984 :


Live from 2019 !!




My Pop Life #115 : Ma Jaiye Oni – King Sunny Ade

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Ma J’aiye Oni   –   King Sunny Ade

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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.

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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.

Featured imageIt 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.

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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.

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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.

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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 !

My Pop Life #67 : Yun Na Thi – Asha Bhosle

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Yun Na Thi   –   Asha Bhosle

..Yuun na thi mujhse berukhi pehle
Tum toh aise na the kabhi pehle.. 

you were not so indifferent towards me earlier….

you have completely changed from how you were…

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Asha Bhosle sang her first Hindi film song at 10 years old, and had eloped with a man 15 years older than herself aged 16.   Three babies later she left her husband with his name and returned to the maternal home in Mumbai, still singing for a living.  Her older sister Lata Mangeshkar was also singing Bollywood film songs, but Asha was determined not to just be Lata’s younger sister and looked for ways to follow her own path.  This meant often singing the ‘fallen woman’ role in B-grade movies, but as the 1950s drew to a close she and her sister dominated the Hindi film industry having sung more ‘playback songs’ than anyone else.  Her speciality was often seen as western-style and more sensual songs.  Her success and popularity grew from there.  Ashaji is now the official most-recorded singer in world history, having sung over 13,000 songs.  Most of these were for Bollywood, but she has also sung ghazals (such as this song Yun Na Thi), Indian classical pieces, pop, folk songs and qawwalis among others.   She was the subject of Cornershop‘s single Brimful of Asha (on the 45) in 1997.  She continues to sing and tour today, at the age of 82.    Some of her greatest work has been the most recent, a duet LP with young Pakistani singer Adnan Sami in 1997, an LP of Indian classical music with sarod player Ustad Ali Akbar Kahn getting a Grammy nomination.  But she will always be loved for her Bolllywood songs, the mainstay of her career and the Indian music industry.

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Dil Cheez Kya Hai from Umrao Jaan

It is impossible to overstate the importance of film songs in the overall picture of Indian music, rather like pop music in the UK, millions listen to it, go to the films and buy it.   Among her ‘greatest hits’ which are too many to include on one LP would be Dil Cheez Kya Hai from Umrao Jaan (1981), Dum Maro Dum from Hare Krishna (1971), title track Chura Liye Hai Tumne (2003) and Aaiye Meharbaan from Howrah Bridge (1958).

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She sings in Hindi, Urdu, Bengali, Marathi, English –  in fact 20 languages in all.   Perhaps the most remarkable facet of her long life and singing career has been her relationship with her sister Lata Mangeshkar, who is the 2nd-most recorded singer in history, and is herself still singing aged 85.

I didn’t hear any Indian music when I was growing up – apart from Within You Without You, Love You To (Revolver) or Peter Sellers taking the piss.   Ravi Shankar came to educate us all in the ways of Indian classical music, having made friends with George Harrison, and received a standing ovation for tuning up his sitar at his first English concert.  He smiled and thanked the audience for appreciating his craft and hoped they would enjoy the actual music.   Then we saw what he could do at the Concert For Bangla Desh.  But Ravi was the classical end of things – a sitar player.  Asha Bhosle was the filmi end of things – a singer.

Part of the problem for western ears are the instruments used : sitar, tabla, sarod, dilrubi, saranga, bansuri, tambura, shehnai, swarmandel, harmonium.  We used some of these instruments when we played The Sgt Pepper show, eg the swarmandel as played by George in Strawberry Fields Forever.

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Sarod                     Swarmandel  player                                Sarangi

The other part of the problem is the pitch – shruti – in hindi which translates as the smallest possible difference in pitch the human ear can distinguish between two tones.  Thus our 12-tone scale,  in Indian music becomes 23 tones – quarter tones to us westerners, often heard as “blue notes” ie notes sung in a blues between two other notes, either sliding up or down.  Pianists are unable to play blue notes – they can’t bend the note like a singer or guitarist or saxophone player, but they overcome this by playing the two notes alongside each other together, creating a dissonance which is rather pleasing.  Indian music to my cloth ears relies heavily on these subtleties of pitch which seem to appeal directly to the heart and the emotions.  When Lloyd-Webber employed AR Rahman he called it “cheating” but really, what does he know ?


Within weeks of starting my law degree at LSE I had a steady girlfriend – Mumtaz, who was born in Aden (Yemen) to Pakistani parents, the family had then moved to Karachi in the 1960s.  Mumtaz was schooled in Murree, in the foothills of the Himalayas, near Kashmir.   She had come to London to study law, and having graduated the summer before was now studying for part 2 of the Law Exam.  Over the next nine years we would be, off and on, a couple.  Most of that time was spent in an attic flat in Finsbury Park as we both established footholds in our chosen careers.  Mumtaz’ parents never accepted me as a potential son-in-law because I am not a muslim, and although Taj’s older sister Naz had married an Englishman, it hadn’t lessened that pressure, and maybe made it worse.

Mumtaz introduced me to north Indian cuisine, and I can still cook basmati rice, perfect every time, rogan jhosh and prawns courgette, partly thanks to Madhur Jaffrey it must be said.  Taj taught me how to cook pitta bread – lightly brush water over each side then lightly grill it until it starts to puff up then whip it out, cut in half, careful not to burn your fingers.   We ate regularly at the Diwan-e-Khas in Whitfield St, and the Diwan-e-Am in Drummond St.  I learned all the spices, some Urdu, some basic tenets of islam.  And we saw a few Indian movies, with singing.  Not so many, but enough to introduce me to the whole world of Bollywood:  Awaara, Pyaasa,  as well as the more serious Indian cinema of Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen and Mehboob Khan’s epic 1957 film Mother India.   I found some Bollywood cassettes somewhere, bought them and played them, their incredible arrangements, timings and melodies started to work their way into my ears.  Indeed one of these tunes I CANNOT REMEMBER WHAT IT’S CALLED OR WHO SANG IT, (but it wasn’t Asha or Lata or Mohamed Rafi) became the basis for a song I wrote for Birds Of Tin, the band I was playing in at the time with Joe Korner – a song called Dangerous Garden.  In fact I think the cassette was by Shamshad Begum.  More about Birds Of Tin on another day.  Mumtaz also introduced me to the Beach Boys LP Holland, the band Earth Wind & Fire (My Pop Life #21), Fulfillingness’ First Finale and The Isley Brothers.

It was hard leaving Mumtaz.  But it had to be done.  Taj didn’t agree, but we had no future together.   It just wasn’t right.   I ended up in Bob Carlton’s flat in Bow in a tower block, with all my books and none of my records.   I never saw my records again.  Taj’s revenge.  Well, records : they’re just things, right ?  as this blog will testify…..


In 1985 I was a disciple of WOMAD.  World Of Music Arts & Dance.   I bought their first LP Music and Rhythm (see My Pop Life #4) in 1982 and had spent the next three years listening to anything that wasn’t some skinny white kid playing guitar – Irish music, south african township music, calypso, greek songs, jazz, classical, gypsy music, arabic, burundi drumming, algerian rai, flamenco, salsa, samba, showtunes, mexican pop music, and hindi film music, what a beautiful world of music there was out there and I wanted to eat it all up, to explore, to mine those golden seams of rhythm and melody, to hear strange languages, strange beats, unusual instruments, see then how things joined up, how distant relations were joined, the cuba-congo axis, the irish/scottish/quadrille/african birth of jazz in New Orleans, the music of Brahms and Jobim, Eric Satie and Oum Kalthoum, the Bhundu Boys and Sergio Leone.

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So when WOMAD brought out a Talking Book LP called Asia 1 I immediately bought it full price and consumed it with joy.  Asha Bhosle sang Yun Na Thi as the last track on side B.  Well, you can’t follow that really.  Indeed, how foolish it is to create an LP of “Music From Asia” – which included the desert musicians of Rajahstan, Kurdish music from Siwan Perwer (brilliant), Yemeni Ofra Haza, tabla solos, Iranian goblet drummers and Temple musicians of Sri Lanka ??  Absurd to group them all together – but – it was a sampler made especially for people like me who were trawling the world for their music, who’d got fed up with the radio, whichever station it was, who wanted to explore with their ears.  It was, I have to say, a completely brilliant album, but the outstanding songs on it were from Şivan Perwer and Asha Bhosle.

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Ashaji had made Abshar-e-Ghazal – the source album for this track – as a break from Hindi film music.  She was a hugely respected and wealthy star in India, had restaurants in the Gulf and could do what she wanted.  She wanted to do some more classical and traditional music.  All the music on the LP was written by Hariharan and the lyrics are ghazals – an ancient pre-islamic form of poetry.  As near as I can get to an understanding of this form is the Sonnet – all of the rhymes must be a certain way.  A ghazal is a love poem, always about unrequited love, and often takes the Sufi form – a poem about love of God, the ultimate unrequited love.  A famous Persian ghazal poet Rumi, who died in 1273, is known a little in the west, although scarcely enough – but the ghazal goes back at least 500 years before him.

I’ve asked for translations of the words to this ghazal, when they come I’ll add them to this blog.   Perhaps the unrequited love is Mumtaz’ for me.

Yun na thi mujh se berukhi pehle

tum toh aise na the kabhi pehle

jismeain shaamil tunhaari marzi thi

humne chaahi wahi kushi pehle

jab talak woh na tha toh ai raahi

kitni aasaan thi zindagi pehle