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Pick a small spot (a point) in front of you (a small knot of wood, a dog down the way). And tightly focus on this spot. And now slowly unfocus your gaze. Widen your gaze. Pan out without moving your eyes. Take it all in.
A smeared and pixelated surface, swelling of contour and light. (Monet’s seepages of light, Altman’s overlapping nomadic dialogue.) Once you have unfocused with little to no center of attention, slowly close your eyes. And please feel very free to notice the light. All of the light that your eyes knocked back as you dilated your focal point. This exercise can be repeated a few times. Unfocusing does not always come easily. And it is probably best to not put too much effort into it. Best to not employ too much pressure.
And we will not put too much pressure on this exercise to help us explain away the humidly, saturatedly psychedelic canopy of moan-‘n-twang and slackelastic-groove of The Dwarfs Of East Agouza’s Sasquatch Landslide.
Mitch Hedberg has a great joke about the Sasquatch: “I think Bigfoot is blurry. That’s the problem. It’s not the photographer’s fault. Bigfoot is blurry! And that’s extra scary to me, because there’s a large out-of-focus monster roaming the countryside.”
Sasquatch Landslide. A landslide of hazy configurations. Blurriness, far from a lack of detail, is an embroidering of detail, a horizontal expansion of surface and swarms of light. The name “Sasquatch” derives from the Salish word se'sxac, which means “wild men.” And Sasquatch Landslide is wild. Everything is unravelling. Offset. Décalage. A whole host of slippery tempos and pulses as the organs, guitars and saxophones loiter and lope over a skipping hop of beats, and everything emerges always mid-stream. It is all middle with no halfway point, no dead center, no bullseye. Everything twangs, moans, sweeps, slips, swings, skitters, slides, and grooves out of nowhere. And the almost-human voice with no mother-tongue.
There is something ecstatic (an elatedly miniscule frenzy) going on here but it is pushed beyond the ecstatic: a joyous-grotesque rolling right past trance to dance. Psychedelias appear out of the infra-spaces in between the apparitions and overlapping ‘regimes’ and registers—pushed and squeezed far beyond the recognizable. And these spaces groove joyously hard like some kind of illusive House music, houses completely submerged in molasses. BigFoot-work? (Oh my!) There is not a place to throw your anchor here in the furrowing humidity. That does, and it does, sound like some kind of landslide.
A psychedelic encounter is a brush with the marvel of otherness. The point from which we speak of other, becomes other itself, in an ever-storm of other-production that shreds ideas of knowing and understanding what we think is going on. Time unhinged from the clock. Space unhinged from the frame. An unpinpointing hallucination, a hot get-down, an untethered throw-down of oscillations, fiercely, joyously, exuberantly incomprehensible. Listening to Sasquatch Landslide, a wildly unhinged reverie.
Eric Chenaux and Mariette Cousty
Condat-sur-Ganaveix, February 2025

In his first studio album, legendary singer John Katokye shines an unprecedented light on the rich vocal music of the Banyankore and Bahororo people of Western Uganda, bringing to the fore two singing styles intimately anchored in their century-long practice of cattle herding. When still a young boy, Katokye ran away from home to immerse himself in the traditional songs of his region. Herding cattle in different farms to earn a living, he roamed his homeland singing for several decades, refining his art form one performance at a time. Now approaching his 60th birthday, Katokye has become arguably the most talented and popular traditional singer alive in his region today.
Specializing in the style of ‘ekyeshongoro’, Katokye improvises short poetic sentences, like a long series of Japanese haiku, to convey morsel-sized impressions on the land and history of his people and their cherished cattle. On a regular performance, one or several singers usually back up the meandering of the lead vocalist, overlapping their verses in a continuous vocal flow – at times stretching well beyond ten minutes – transforming the moment into a long meditative experience. Marking the major twists and turns of their river-like performances, all the singers punctually raise their pitch together, steadily increasing the intensity of the current that pulls the audience along their mesmerizing praising chant.
Named after Katokye’s clan, ‘Abanzira’ pays tribute to the moral values and beauty of the women from his lineage, while ‘Ekyeshongoro Kyabakazi’ singles out the merits of the people of Karengo, a village at the heart of the Ankole region where Katokye settled with his loved ones. Throughout this song, Katokye peppers guttural breaths reminiscent of the mooing cows grazing in the hills surrounding his home. To say that the Banyankore and Bahororo people have a deep bond with their cattle might be an understatement in a culture where the generous eyelashes and quiet gaze of calves shape beauty standards, while the subtle taste of smoked milk flavours family reunions and friendly hang outs.
‘Okugamba Ente’ illustrates this intimacy well as Katokye salutes cows’ understanding of human nature, beating with his herding staff the pulse of another form of praise singing deeply rooted in the region, transporting listeners from the meditative river of ekyeshongoro to the dense and wordy waterfall of the ekyevugo style. Gluing words together to recite a dense series of sentences in one breath, ekyevugo singers draw on local myths and history while evoking cattle as signs of beauty and wealth to praise their audience and highlight the quality of the moments lived together at weddings, political rallies, or family gatherings. Acknowledging the praises, the audience usually concludes each flow with a short and vocal ‘eee’ during which the reciter quickly catches breath to draw strength and fire the next verse.
And the talent lives on in the younger generations as the album concludes with ‘Omuhogo gwa Rujeru’, foregrounding Katokye’s acolyte and longtime partner Samuel Rujeru who takes the lead in driving a song usually opening fire sessions, calmly warming up the audience and performers for an evening of storytelling. As they listen to the singers’ whirling melismas and passionate bursts, it’s not unusual for people to raise their arms in the air in imitation of the iconic long horns of their beloved cattle with which they share their lives in the bushy hills of the region. Rendered for the first time in an intimate studio recording session, listeners can now feel the warmth of these amazing vocal styles that for so many years accompanied the lives and dreams of the Banyankore and Bahororo people.

In English, the Xhosa word “useza” means to arouse or elicit a feeling, and it perfectly illuminates Sekuru Chaka Chawasarira’s lifelong practice. The eminent Zimbabwean artist and educator is among the last remaining masters of the matepe, a large mbira-style instrument that’s played with both thumbs and index fingers to expand its rhythmelodic complexity. And on ‘Useza’, he fully demonstrates the matepe’s illusory potential, overdubbing hypnotic sequences to provoke shifting harmonic progressions that ethnomusicologist Andrew Tracey labeled “kaleidophony” back in 1970. An ancient art within North-Eastern Zimbabwe’s Shona culture, the matepe is traditionally used in local rituals, where its ambiguous psychoacoustic mirages evoke trance states to aid communication with ancestral spirits. Only half a century ago, ceremonies amongst the Sena Tonga and Kore-Kore peoples would involve up to six musicians, each playing interlocking polyrhythmic sequences. In 2025, the music is threatened with extinction; following decades of vilification from Zimbabwe’s evangelical and pentecostal churches, who associate the rituals with witchcraft, there are fewer than ten master musicians left.
Called the “Mozart of mbira” by composer Keith Goddard, 83-year-old Chawasarira has been developing his relationship with the instrument since he was just a young man. He grew up in a Catholic mission and was dedicated to the church, founding his own choir, but he maintained his connection to Zimbabwean culture by studying the region’s traditional rhythms. Chawasarira’s father had been a prominent drummer, and when Chawasarira was older, working as a teacher at the mission school, he ventured out to observe local mbira ensembles, eventually participating regularly in spirit ceremonies. And although there were tensions between Chawasarira’s work with the church and his interest in controversial folk music, he managed to strike a precarious balance, introducing drums to his Catholic services in the 1960s and even composing a mass for karimba. Chawasarira’s reputation grew steadily; he was invited to Lousville University in the 1990s to represent Zimbabwe at a contemporary composition festival, and his youth ensembles helped popularize Shona mbira traditions not just at home, but around the world.
Today’s evangelical Christians are less tolerant than the Catholic church however, with fundamentalist preachers blaming mbira music for all manner of tragedy. Chawasarira remains undeterred; living in Chitungwiza, he builds matepes and karimbas and tutors children, and ‘Useza’ is a celebration of his years of experience, a way for the maestro to preserve his repertoire for future generations. Recorded at the dead of night while the rest of the township is sound asleep, the album reproduces the mesmerizing sound of a Shona ritual by overlaying discrete fractal sequences filled with haunting overtones and buzzing rhythms. Chitungwiza works alone, harmonizing with himself and chanting over the weightless polyrhythms to create musical illusions that sound different depending on where the listener might be positioned. It’s a technique that’s been approached by various minimalist composers and avant-garde explorers in the 20th century and beyond, and Chitungwiza goes straight to the source, skillfully substantiating kaleidophony and safeguarding Zimbabwe’s heritage.

Heavy, heavy, heavyyyyy rhythmic madness from Shackleton, Scotch Rolex and Omutaba, invoking new rhythmic traditions on an enchanted debut album for Nyege Nyege Tapes, twisting galvanic rhythms from HHY & The Kampala Unit's Omutaba into sozzled, psychedelic peregrinations. Dubby, kinetic and viciously mind-bending, it's peak gear if you're into anything from African Head Charge to Mark Ernestus' Ndagga Rhythm Force.
Leading on from Shackleton and Scotch Rolex’s maiden merger, ‘Death by Tickling’ in 2023, the duo pull in the dextrous limbs of Omutaba - known from his work with STILL, Metal Preyers and HHY & The Kampala Unit - for a dervishing session of dubbed-out and tumbling polyrhythms and psychoactive vibes as Three Hands of Doom. Shackleton’s hand on the tiller is patently apparent but, as with his recent works with Heather Leigh and Wacław Zimpel, he proves a mutable collaborator and porous to the shared spirits of fellow electronic music journeymen Scotch Rolex and Uganda’s Omutaba in four swingeing sections defined by their joint ability to diffract the flow between rolling and irregular grooves.
‘Ring Dirt’ opens the session with a limber display of monotone strings and suspenseful synth work that calls to mind Can sent economy class to the equator for ritual teachings. Enlightened, they proceed thru the lush, whorling metric calculations of ‘Insect Vibration’, layering shivering incantations and worm-charming subs with a frisson of field recordings. At this point fully attuned to each other, Omutaba’s Ugandan drumming is felt most powerfully meshed into the 10 minute matrix of rug-pulling and thunderous detonations to ‘Burnt Earth’, before they all buckle into the outright dread of a standout eponymous title tune that appears to follow rhythms from the Congo thru West Africa, to Haiti, via Japan and Berlin, and back to Uganda.
Both Shackleton and Ishihara have been on blistering form in the last couple of years, and 'Three Hands of Doom' feels like both a continuation and an extension of last year's 'Death By Tickling', weaponizing Omutaba's exhilarating playing into something that feels much, much more than the sum of its parts.
Khadim is a stunning reconfiguration of the Ndagga Rhythm Force sound. The instrumentation is radically pared down. The guitar is gone; the concatenation of sabars; the drum-kit. Each of the four tracks hones in on just one or two drummers; otherwise the sole recorded element is the singing; everything else is programmed. Synths are dialogically locked into the drumming. Tellingly, Ernestus has reached for his beloved Prophet-5, a signature go-to since Basic Channel days, thirty years ago. Texturally, the sound is more dubwise; prickling with effects. There is a new spaciousness, announced at the start by the ambient sounds of Dakar street-life. At the microphone, Mbene Diatta Seck revels in this new openness: mbalax diva, she feelingly turns each of the four songs into a discrete dramatic episode, using different sets of rhetorical techniques. The music throughout is taut, grooving, complex, like before; but more volatile, intuitive and reaching, with turbulent emotional and spiritual expressivity.
Not that Khadim represents any kind of break. Its transformativeness is rooted in the hundreds upon hundreds of hours the Rhythm Force has played together. Nearly a decade has passed since Yermande, the unit’s previous album. Every year throughout that period — barring lockdowns — the group has toured extensively, in Europe, the US, and Japan. With improvisation at the core of its music-making, each performance has been evolutionary, as it turns out heading towards Khadim. “I didn’t want to simply continue with the same formula, says Ernestus. “I preferred to wait for a new approach. Playing live so many times, I wanted to capture some of the energy and freedom of those performances.” Though several members of the touring ensemble sit out this recording — sabar drummers, kit-drummer, synth-player — their presence abides in the structure and swing of the music here.
Lamp Fall is a homage to Cheikh Ibra Fall, founder of the Baye Fall spiritual community. The mosque in the city of Touba is known as Lamp Fall, because the main tower resembles a lantern. Soy duggu Touba, moom guey séen / When you enter Touba, he is the one who greets you. After a swift, incantatory start Mbene sings with reflective seriousness. Her voice swirls with reverb, over a tight, funky, propulsive interplay between synth and drums, threaded with one- two jabs of bass. Cheikh Ibra Fall mi may way, mo diayndiou ré, la mu jëndé ko taalibe… Cheikh Ibra Fall amo morome, aboridial / Cheikh Ibra Fall shows the way forward, he gives us strength, he gathers his disciples… Overflowing with grace, Cheikh Ibra Fall has no equal.
Interwoven with Wolof proverbs, Dieuw Bakhul is a recriminatory song about treachery, lies, and back-biting. Over moody, roiling synths and ominous, lean bass, Mbene throws out fluttering scraps of vocal, as if re-running old conversations in her head. The music shadows her despair to the verge of breakdown, at one moment seemingly so lost in thought and memories, that it threatens to disintegrate. Bayilene di wor seen xarit ak seen an da ndo… Dieuw bakhul, dieuw ñaw na / Stop judging your friends and companions… A lie is no good, a lie is ugly.
Khadim is a show-stopper; currently the centrepiece of Ndagga Rhythm Force live performances. The song is dedicated to Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba, aka Khadim, founder of the Mouride Sufi order. Serigne Bamba mi may wayeu / Serigne Bamba is the one who makes me sing. The verses name-check revered members of his family and brotherhood, like Sokhna Diarra, Mame Thierno, and Serigne Bara. Though Islam has been practised in Senegal for a millennium, it wasn’t until the start of the twentieth century that it began to thoroughly permeate ordinary Senegalese society, hand-in-hand with anti-colonialism. The verses here recall Bamba’s banishment by the French to Gabon, and later to Mauritania, in those foundational times. During exile, his captors once introduced a lion to his cell: gaïnde gua waf, dieba lu ci Cheikhoul Khadim / the lion doesn’t budge, it gives itself over to Cheikh Khadim. Deep, surging bass, steady kick-drum, and simple, reverbed chords on the off-beat lend the feel and impetus of steppers reggae. A reed plays snatches of a traditional Baye Fall melody; the dazzling polyrhythmic drumming is by Serigne Mamoune Seck. Mbene compellingly blends percussive vocalese, narrative suspense, exultant praise, introspection, and grievance.
Nimzat is a devotional tribute to Cheikh Sadbou, a contemporary of Bamba, buried in a mausoleum in Nizmat, in southern Mauritania. Way nala, kagne nala… souma danana fata dale / I call upon you and wonder about you… If I am overwhelmed, come to my aid. The town holds special significance for Khadr Sufism. An annual pilgrimage there is conducted to this day. The rhythm is buoyantly funky; the mood is sombre, reined-in, foreboding. Punctuated by peals of thunder, Mbene sings with restrained, intense reverence; huskily confidential, steadfast. Nanu dem ba Nimzat, dé ba sali khina / Let us go to Nimzat, to seal our devotion.
Khadim is a stunning reconfiguration of the Ndagga Rhythm Force sound. The instrumentation is radically pared down. The guitar is gone; the concatenation of sabars; the drum-kit. Each of the four tracks hones in on just one or two drummers; otherwise the sole recorded element is the singing; everything else is programmed. Synths are dialogically locked into the drumming. Tellingly, Ernestus has reached for his beloved Prophet-5, a signature go-to since Basic Channel days, thirty years ago. Texturally, the sound is more dubwise; prickling with effects. There is a new spaciousness, announced at the start by the ambient sounds of Dakar street-life. At the microphone, Mbene Diatta Seck revels in this new openness: mbalax diva, she feelingly turns each of the four songs into a discrete dramatic episode, using different sets of rhetorical techniques. The music throughout is taut, grooving, complex, like before; but more volatile, intuitive and reaching, with turbulent emotional and spiritual expressivity.
Not that Khadim represents any kind of break. Its transformativeness is rooted in the hundreds upon hundreds of hours the Rhythm Force has played together. Nearly a decade has passed since Yermande, the unit’s previous album. Every year throughout that period — barring lockdowns — the group has toured extensively, in Europe, the US, and Japan. With improvisation at the core of its music-making, each performance has been evolutionary, as it turns out heading towards Khadim. “I didn’t want to simply continue with the same formula, says Ernestus. “I preferred to wait for a new approach. Playing live so many times, I wanted to capture some of the energy and freedom of those performances.” Though several members of the touring ensemble sit out this recording — sabar drummers, kit-drummer, synth-player — their presence abides in the structure and swing of the music here.
Lamp Fall is a homage to Cheikh Ibra Fall, founder of the Baye Fall spiritual community. The mosque in the city of Touba is known as Lamp Fall, because the main tower resembles a lantern. Soy duggu Touba, moom guey séen / When you enter Touba, he is the one who greets you. After a swift, incantatory start Mbene sings with reflective seriousness. Her voice swirls with reverb, over a tight, funky, propulsive interplay between synth and drums, threaded with one- two jabs of bass. Cheikh Ibra Fall mi may way, mo diayndiou ré, la mu jëndé ko taalibe… Cheikh Ibra Fall amo morome, aboridial / Cheikh Ibra Fall shows the way forward, he gives us strength, he gathers his disciples… Overflowing with grace, Cheikh Ibra Fall has no equal.
Interwoven with Wolof proverbs, Dieuw Bakhul is a recriminatory song about treachery, lies, and back-biting. Over moody, roiling synths and ominous, lean bass, Mbene throws out fluttering scraps of vocal, as if re-running old conversations in her head. The music shadows her despair to the verge of breakdown, at one moment seemingly so lost in thought and memories, that it threatens to disintegrate. Bayilene di wor seen xarit ak seen an da ndo… Dieuw bakhul, dieuw ñaw na / Stop judging your friends and companions… A lie is no good, a lie is ugly.
Khadim is a show-stopper; currently the centrepiece of Ndagga Rhythm Force live performances. The song is dedicated to Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba, aka Khadim, founder of the Mouride Sufi order. Serigne Bamba mi may wayeu / Serigne Bamba is the one who makes me sing. The verses name-check revered members of his family and brotherhood, like Sokhna Diarra, Mame Thierno, and Serigne Bara. Though Islam has been practised in Senegal for a millennium, it wasn’t until the start of the twentieth century that it began to thoroughly permeate ordinary Senegalese society, hand-in-hand with anti-colonialism. The verses here recall Bamba’s banishment by the French to Gabon, and later to Mauritania, in those foundational times. During exile, his captors once introduced a lion to his cell: gaïnde gua waf, dieba lu ci Cheikhoul Khadim / the lion doesn’t budge, it gives itself over to Cheikh Khadim. Deep, surging bass, steady kick-drum, and simple, reverbed chords on the off-beat lend the feel and impetus of steppers reggae. A reed plays snatches of a traditional Baye Fall melody; the dazzling polyrhythmic drumming is by Serigne Mamoune Seck. Mbene compellingly blends percussive vocalese, narrative suspense, exultant praise, introspection, and grievance.
Nimzat is a devotional tribute to Cheikh Sadbou, a contemporary of Bamba, buried in a mausoleum in Nizmat, in southern Mauritania. Way nala, kagne nala… souma danana fata dale / I call upon you and wonder about you… If I am overwhelmed, come to my aid. The town holds special significance for Khadr Sufism. An annual pilgrimage there is conducted to this day. The rhythm is buoyantly funky; the mood is sombre, reined-in, foreboding. Punctuated by peals of thunder, Mbene sings with restrained, intense reverence; huskily confidential, steadfast. Nanu dem ba Nimzat, dé ba sali khina / Let us go to Nimzat, to seal our devotion.

Swan Song
The vinyl LP at the heart of this éthiopiques 31 [tracks 2 to 11] was one of the very last vinyl records ever released in Ethiopia. But above all it represents, we felt, the absolute masterpiece of the Ethiopian Groove – the Swan Song of Swinging Addis. The album leaves a clear idea for posterity of the level of sophistication and mastery that modern Ethiopian music had achieved, before being crushed under the Stalino-military heel of the Derg – as the bloody revolution that was unfolding came to be called.
Ethiopia 1976.
The Revolution that broke out in February 1974 rolled on in a ruthless march. The whole of Ethiopian society was utterly stunned. The bouquets of flowers handed joyfully to the first tanks of the coup d'état were to wilt very rapidly. From September 1976 to February 1978, 18 months of Red Terror (the name given by the junta itself) spilled blood throughout the country. This fratricidal conflict took its heaviest toll among students and youth. The shift from feudalism to a cruel and primitive Stalinism left the country's citizens deeply traumatised, and snuffed out any pretence of activism, whatever the sector of society. This ice age was to last for seventeen long years.
ሙሉቀን፡መለሰ Mulukèn Mellèssè Muluqän Mälläsä
It was three tracks by Muluken that served as the opener for éthiopiques-1 more than 25 years ago. Seven more tracks appeared on éthiopiques-3 and 13, all accompanied by The Equators, which was soon to become the Dahlak Band.
The first track, Hédètch alu, also the very first piece that Muluken ever recorded, left audiences both unsettled and amazed. Reflecting the singer's extremely young age (he was just 17 at the time), this angelic voice mystified many, who thought they were in fact listening to a feminine voice. He was not yet 22 when he released his last vinyl record in 1976 with Kaifa Records (KF 39LP), one of the very last to be issued in Ethiopia, before the cassette tape became the dominant medium for music distribution – and before the new revolutionary regime put a stop to all independent musical life, via an unspeakable barrage of prohibitions and other persecutions.
Mulu qèn, literally, “A well filled day”. This tender maternal intention wasn't enough to ward off the cruelty of fate. His mother's premature death drove Muluken to leave his native Godjam, in northeast Ethiopia, to live with an uncle in Addis Ababa. Born Muluken Tamer, he took his uncle's last name – Mèllèssè.
The spelling Muluken appeared in his administrative records. Transcription of Amharic to the Latin alphabet, both in Ethiopia and for scholars, gives rise to controversies and quibbles that can never be neatly settled. French allows for a closer approximation of the original pronunciation, thanks to its battery of accent marks, confusing as they may be to anglophones.
Between rather accommodating administrative record-keepers and the various versions that pop up in interviews given by the artist, Muluken's year of birth oscillates between 1953 and 1955…
1954? One thing is certain: the artist's talent made itself known very early indeed, because he got his start in 1966-67, at the age of 13 or 14. Photos from the period attest to his extreme youth. It's a strange sort of initiation for a very young teenager to become a sensation in the heart of Addis's nightlife at the time, Woubé Bèrèha – the Wilds of Woubé. And what's more, in the club of the Queen of the Night, the Godjamé Assègèdètch Alamrèw herself, the very same that was portrayed by Sebhat Guèbrè-Egziabhér in his novel-memoir Les Nuits d’Addis Abeba2… The legendary female club owner who is remembered to this day by the capital's ageing boomers.
Muluken first tried his hand at the drums, before he grabbed the microphone. He emigrated briefly to the Zula Club, across the street from the old Addis Post Office, one of the ground-breaking bars of the burgeoning musical scene, before joining the Second Police Band in 1968, for around three years. He spent a few months with the short-lived Blue Nile Band founded by saxophonist Besrat Tammènè. As the musical scene grew increasingly successful, and pulled slowly but decisively away from its institutional ties, Muluken released his first 45rpm single in February 1972 (Amha Records AE 440). It was included in two LP Ethiopian Hit Parade compilation albums in September of the same year. All in all, Muluken released eight two-track 45s and the same number of original cassette tapes between February 1972 and 1984, the year that he departed for permanent exile in the USA. After converting to Pentecostalism in 1980, Muluken gradually abandoned all secular musical activity. In 1985, at the end of a concert in Philadelphia, he decided to quit concerts and recording for good. Mèlakè Gèbré, the historic bass player from the Walias band who was playing with him that night, recalls that everything appeared so irredeemably diabolical in Muluken's eyes, that it was to be the end of his contribution to Ethiopian Groove.
The end of the story, the beginning of a legend.
Dahlak Band, forgotten by History
Aside from his personal history and vocal talents, it must be remembered that Muluken Mèllèssè was one of the biggest names in the musical innovations that marked the end of the imperial period. These éthiopiques aim to convince those who are just discovering this hidden gem... As for Ethiopians themselves, they are to this day captivated by this singular and atypical figure in the Abyssinian pop landscape – even though he withdrew from public life some 40 years ago. Incorrigible devotees of poetic twists, of more or less hidden meanings, Ethiopians appreciate above all the care Muluken took in choosing his lyrics and the writers who penned them, such as Feqerte Haylou, Alemtsehay Wodajo and, here, Shewalul Mengistu (1944-1977). Love songs, written by women, a far cry from the conventional drivel that pleases sappy sentimentalists.
Muluken is equally acclaimed for his perfectionism when it came to music, the opposite of the overly casual approach that is all too common. He remained a faithful partner of musicians who came from a lineage that borrowed from several inventive and pioneering bands (Venus, Equators, Dahlak). Amongst them were certain artists who began their musical lives with Nersès Nalbandian at the Haile Sellassie Theatre and who come of age in around 1973 – at just the wrong time, you might say. Among them were the pillars Shimèlis Bèyènè (trumpet), Dawit Yifru (keyboards) and Tilayé Gèbrè (sax & flute). Most notably Tilayé Gèbrè, certainly one of the most important musicians, composers and arrangers of his generation, of the end of the imperial era, and of the early years of the Derg.
It was only in 1981 that a miraculous opportunity arose for Tilayé to escape the Stalinist paradise of the dictator Menguistou Haylè-Maryam. Once again it was Amha Eshèté (1946-2021) who provided a solution. The spirited and courageous producer, who had been in exile in Washington since 1975, succeeded, thanks to his incredible perseverence, in bringing the Walias Band to the USA. It was, in fact an extended Walias Band comprising ten musicians3, six of whom chose to slip away after a few concerts and the recording of an LP (The Best of Walias, WRS 100). Tilayé Gèbrè was one of these. He has been living in the USA ever since. There he joined the then-nascent Ethiopian diaspora, which lived largely unto itself, and was making only very modest headway in the American musical market. It seems unfair that Tilayé Gèbrè and the Dahlak Band were not able to benefit earlier from the public recognition that they do deserve.
A similar draining away of the top-rate talents would lead to the reorganization of the major groups of the “Derg Time”. The remaining artists spread themselves around between Ibex Band (renamed Roha Band), Ethio Star Band and a remodeled Walias Band. That spelled the end of the Dahlak Band.
With this record, produced by the essential Ali Abdella Kaifa a.k.a. Ali Tango, we can appreciate everything that the Derg not only destroyed, but also prevented from flourishing. This gem of Ethiopian-style afrobeat came out in 1976 (and, by way of a parenthesis, before the FESTAC 1977 in Lagos, which was attended by an impressive delegation of Ethiopian musicians — although Fela was already personna non grata in his own country). Despite everything that might distinguish this ethio-groove from Fela’s music – no colonial axe to grind, no question of political confrontation with the authorities, no claims to negritude or Africanism for the Ethiopian musicians, and less extrovertion! –, this LP fits beautifully into the saga of intense and electrified soul of the new “African” groove that Fela and Manu Dibango embodied so well from that point onwards.
In restoring this record to its place in the afrobeat epic, it can be seen that, if nothing else, the timeline bestows a legitimate pedigree and a historical primacy to works that had no international impact when they were originally released.
Warning! Masterpiece!
FRANCAIS
Le Chant du Cygne
L’album 33 tours au cœur de ces éthiopiques [plages 2 à 11] est l’un des derniers vinyles publié en Ethiopie, mais surtout il nous paraît être le chef-d’œuvre absolu de l’Ethiopian Groove – le Chant du Cygne du Swinging Addis. Il laisse à la postérité une idée claire du niveau de sophistication et de maîtrise qu’avait atteint la musique moderne éthiopienne avant d’être écrabouillée sous la botte militaro-stalinienne du Derg – le sigle qui signe la sanglante révolution en cours.
Ethiopie 1976.
La Révolution qui a éclaté en février 1974 avance à marche forcée. La société éthiopienne tout entière est brutalement étourdie. Les gerbes de fleurs offertes avec allégresse aux premiers tankistes du coup d’état ont très vite fané. Entre septembre 1976 et février 1978, 18 mois de Terreur Rouge (ainsi consacrée par la junte elle-même) vont ensanglanter le pays. La jeunesse estudiantine paiera le plus lourd tribut à ces vindictes fratricides. Passer d’une féodalité hors d’âge à un stalinisme primitif et cruel traumatisera pour longtemps chaque citoyen et étouffera toute velléité d’agitation, dans quelque champ de la société que ce soit. Cette glaciation durera dix-sept interminables années.
ሙሉቀን፡መለሰ Mulukèn Mellèssè Muluqän Mälläsä
C’est Muluken qui a ouvert éthiopiques-1 avec trois titres, voilà 25 ans et plus. Sept autres titres sont parus dans éthiopiques 3, 10 et 13, tous accompagnés par The Equators, qui deviendront bientôt le Dahlak Band.
Le titre inaugural, Hédètch alu, également premier morceau gravé par Muluken, a troublé et bluffé le public. Trahissant l’extrême jeunesse de l’interprète (il avait alors 17 ans), cette voix séraphique a mystifié plus d’un auditoire qui pensait avoir affaire à des accents féminins. Il n’a pas 22 ans lorsqu’il publie en 1976 son dernier vinyle sur Kaifa Records (KF 39LP), l’un des tout derniers publiés en Éthiopie avant que la cassette ne devienne le médium roi de la diffusion musicale – et avant que le nouveau régime révolutionnaire ne mette un terme à toute vie musicale indépendante par une innommable batterie d’interdits et autres persécutions.
Mulu qèn, littéralement Une journée [bien] remplie. Ce baptême tout maternel ne suffira pas à conjurer un funeste sort. Le décès précoce de sa mère conduira le jeune Muluken à quitter son Godjam natal, dans le Nord-Ouest éthiopien, pour vivre chez un oncle à Addis Abeba. Né Muluken Tamer, il prendra le nom de cet oncle pour patronyme – Mèllèssè.
C’est la graphie Muluken que retiendra l’état-civil. Les transcriptions de l’amharique en alphabet latin, en Ethiopie comme pour les linguistes, sont l’objet de controverses et autres chicanes jamais unanimement résolues. Le français permet de s’approcher au mieux de la prononciation originale grâce à sa batterie d’accents qui déroutent tant les anglophones.
Entre un état-civil éthiopien accommodant et les variantes parsemant les interviews de l’artiste, l’année de naissance de Muluken oscille entre 1953 et 1955…
1954 ? Ce qui est sûr, c’est que le talent de l’artiste s’est exprimé ultra précocement puisqu’il fait ses débuts en 1966-67, à 13 ou 14 ans. Les photos de l’époque attestent son extrême jeunesse. Singulière initiation pour un très jeune teenager que d’enfiévrer le quartier chaud de la noctambulie addissine d’alors, Woubé Bèrèha – le Maquis de Woubé. Et dans le club de la reine de la nuit qui plus est, la Godjamé Assègèdètch Alamrèw herself, celle-la même qu’à croquée Sebhat Guèbrè-Egziabhér dans son roman-témoignage Les Nuits d’Addis Abeba2… Une tenancière légendaire dont se souviennent encore les vieux boomers de la capitale.
Muluken tâte d’abord de la batterie avant de s’emparer du micro. Il émigrera brièvement au Zula Club, en face de la vieille Poste d’Addis, un de ces bars pionniers de l’effervescence musicale, avant de rejoindre le Second Police Band en 1968, pendant trois ans environ. Quelques mois au sein d’un éphémère Blue Nile Band monté par le saxophoniste Besrat Tammènè et, le succès grandissant, la scène musicale se dégageant lentement mais fermement des institutions, Muluken sort son premier 45 tours en février 1972 (Amha Records AE 440), repris en septembre de la même année dans deux LP compilations Ethiopian Hit Parade. En tout et pour tout, Muluken publiera huit 45 tours deux titres et autant de cassettes originales entre février 1972 et 1984, année de son départ pour un exil définitif aux USA. Converti au pentecôtisme depuis 1980, Muluken abandonne petit à petit toute activité musicale profane. En 1985, à la fin d’un concert donné à Philadelphie, il décide d’arrêter pour de bon concerts et enregistrements. Mèlakè Gèbré, le bassiste historique du Walias band qui l’accompagnait ce soir-là, se souvient que tout semblait si irrémédiablement démoniaque aux yeux de Muluken que c’en était fini désormais de sa contribution au groove éthiopien.
Fin d’une histoire, début d’une légende.
Dahlak Band, oublié de l’Histoire
Histoire personnelle et magie vocale mises à part, il faut retenir que Muluken Mèllèssè fut l’un des derniers très grands noms de l’innovation musicale produite durant la fin de l’époque impériale. Ces éthiopiques se veulent convaincantes pour ceux qui découvrent cette pépite... Quant aux Ethiopiens, ils sont toujours captivés par cette personnalité singulière et atypique du paysage pop abyssin – en dépit de son effacement public depuis quarante ans. Amateurs impénitents de poétique contournée et de sens plus ou moins caché, ils apprécient par-dessus tout le soin mis par Muluken dans le choix de ses textes et de ses paroliers, telles Feqertè Haylou, Alemtsèhay Wèdadjo, et Shèwalul Mengistu ici (1944-1977). Chansons d’amour écrites par des femmes, loin des conventionnelles niaiseries chères aux cœurs d’artichaut.
Muluken est aussi reconnu pour son perfectionnisme en matière de musique, à l’opposé d’une désinvolture trop coutumière. Il demeure le complice fidèle de musiciens issus d’une filiation qui emprunte à plusieurs Bands pionniers autant qu’inventifs (Venus, Equators, Dahlak). On retrouve parmi eux des éléments qui ont commencé leur vie musicale sous la direction de Nersès Nalbandian au Théâtre Haylè-Sellassié Ier et qui arrivent à maturité vers 1973 – au mauvais moment si l’on ose dire. Les piliers Shimèlis Bèyènè (trompette), Dawit Yifru (claviers) et Tilayé Gèbrè (sax & flûte) sont de ceux-là. Tilayé Gèbrè en particulier, certainement l’un des musiciens, compositeur et arrangeurs parmi les plus importants de sa génération et de la toute fin de l’ère impériale, puis du début du Derg.
Il faudra attendre 1981 pour que se présente une miraculeuse occasion d’échapper au paradis stalinien du dictateur Menguistou Haylè-Maryam. Une fois encore, c’est Amha Eshèté (1946-2021) qui trouve la solution. Génial et courageux producteur désormais en exil à Washington depuis 1975, il parvient, au prix d’une persévérance inimaginable, à faire venir le Walias Band aux USA. En fait, un Walias élargi à dix musiciens3 dont six choisiront de prendre la tangente après quelques concerts américains et l’enregistrement d’un LP (The Best of Walias, WRS 100). Tilayé Gèbrè sera de la partie. Il vit toujours aux USA depuis lors. Il y a rejoint une diaspora éthiopienne alors naissante, quasi autarcique et modérément conquérante du marché musical américain. Il nous paraît injuste que Tilayé Gèbrè et le Dahlak Band n’aient pu profiter plus tôt de la reconnaissance publique qui leur revient.
Pareille hémorragie de talents de premier ordre conduira à la refonte des groupes majeurs du “Derg Time”. Les éléments restants vont se répartir entre Ibex Band (renommé Roha Band), Ethio Star Band et un Walias Band remanié. Fin annoncée du Dahlak Band.
Avec ce disque, produit par l’essential Ali Abdella Kaifa dit Ali Tango, on mesure tout ce que le Derg a non seulement détruit, mais aussi empêché de s’épanouir. Ce joyau d’afrobeat à l’éthiopienne est paru en 1976 (entre parenthèses : avant le FESTAC 1977 de Lagos où se rendra une imposante délégation de musiciens éthiopiens — mais Fela était déjà personna non grata dans son pays). Malgré tout ce qui peut le différencier de Fela – aucune revanche coloniale à prendre, pas question d’affrontement politique avec le pouvoir, aucune revendication de négritude ou d’africanité pour les musiciens éthiopiens, et moindre extraversion ! –, ce LP s’inscrit en beauté dans la saga de la soul intense et électrisée du nouveau groove “africain” que Fela et Manu Dibango symbolisent si bien désormais.
En resituant ce disque dans l’épopée de l’afrobeat, on se rend compte que la chronologie rend au moins leurs lettres de noblesse et leur historique primeur à des œuvres sans impact international au moment de leur parution.
Attention ! chef-d’œuvre !

Tsapiky music from Southwest Madagascar features wild ecstatic vocals, distorted electric guitars, rocket bass, and the amphetamine beat! Unlike anything else, this is THE high life music you've always wanted - ceremonial music played with abandon and extreme intent, honoring the living and dead alike. In Toliara and its surrounding region, funerals, weddings, circumcisions and other rites of passage have been celebrated for decades in ceremonies called mandriampototse. During these celebrations – which last between three and seven days – cigarettes, beer and toaky gasy (artisanal rum) are passed around while electric orchestras play on the same dirt floor as the dancing crowds and zebus. The music, tsapiky, defies any classification. This compilation showcases the diversity of contemporary tsapiky music. Locally and even nationally renowned bands played their own songs on makeshift instruments, blaring through patched-up amps and horn speakers hung in tamarind trees, projecting the music kilometers away. Lead guitarists and female lead singers are the central figures of tsapiky. Driven as much by their creative impulses as by the need to stand out in a competitive market, the artists distinguish themselves stylistically through their lyrics, rhythms or guitar riffs. They must also master a wide repertoire of current tsapiky hits, which the families that attend inevitably request before parading in front of the orchestra with their offerings. This work, a constant push and pull between distinction and imitation, is nourished by fertile exchanges between various groups: acoustic and electric, rural and urban, coastal or inland. What results during these ceremonies is a music of astonishing intensity and creativity, played by artists carving out their own path, indifferent to the standards of any other music industry: Malagasy, African or global.

This record brings together four original works commissioned for the exhibition Afrosonica – Soundscapes, presented at the MEG (Museum of Ethnography in Geneva) in 2025. Blending sound art with reflections on the democratization of museum collections, this recording project explores connections: between past and present, between archives and living practices, between sonic materials, collective imaginaries, and diasporic trajectories.
The artists — KMRU, Midori Takada, Yara Mekawei, and Ntshepe Tsekere Bopape (Mo Laudi) — reactivate objects, voices, and gestures. Through listening to their creations, they weave links between buried memories and contemporary realities, between spiritualities, struggles, identity reinventions, and the poetry of sound.

This record brings together four original works commissioned for the exhibition Afrosonica – Soundscapes, presented at the MEG (Museum of Ethnography in Geneva) in 2025. Blending sound art with reflections on the democratization of museum collections, this recording project explores connections: between past and present, between archives and living practices, between sonic materials, collective imaginaries, and diasporic trajectories.
The artists — KMRU, Midori Takada, Yara Mekawei, and Ntshepe Tsekere Bopape (Mo Laudi) — reactivate objects, voices, and gestures. Through listening to their creations, they weave links between buried memories and contemporary realities, between spiritualities, struggles, identity reinventions, and the poetry of sound.

Afro-jazz ancestral healing at the crossroads of tradition and tomorrow
Matsuli Music is proud to announce the first vinyl reissue of Philip Tabane’s Sangoma ("Spiritual Healer") since its 1978 release. Remastered from the original tapes with lacquers cut by Frank Merrit and pressed on 180g heavyweight vinyl at Pallas in Germany, this definitive edition re-asserts the power of one of South Africa’s landmark recordings. Featuring new liner notes by cultural critic Kwanele Sosibo and artwork restoration by Siemon Allen, Sangoma returns in full force through an extended Malombo line-up, fronted by Tabane's spellbinding guitar - ancestral, timeless, and unbound.
Philip Tabane (1934–2018), the mercurial guitar genius of South African music, forged a sound that was as rooted in the spirit world as it was in daily life. With the Malombo Jazzmen of the 1960s, Tabane disrupted Western notions of “jazz,” bringing the resonant rhythm of cowhide malombo drums into the foreground. While outsiders and the uninitiated often reached for labels like “primitive yet sophisticated,” Tabane and his collaborators named it more truthfully: “music of the spirit.”
By the time of Sangoma, Tabane stood at a crossroads. Fresh from a period of three years’ touring in the United States where he graced the Newport Jazz Festival, and played alongside Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, Pharoah Sanders and others, he brushed off comparisons with characteristic self-assurance: “No, I don’t play like Miles. Miles plays like me.” Back home in South Africa, and with a newly signed international distribution deal with WEA Records, he harnessed this momentum into a larger band setting, capturing a rare intensity.
The result was Sangoma—an album that bridges contradictions: expansive yet intimate, celebratory yet haunted by exile and return. Tracks such as “Sangoma,” “Hi Congo,” and “Keya Bereka” are not simply performances but living testaments, songs that would remain in his repertoire for decades. Unlike the moody, immersive character of much of his work, here Tabane is on the move—urgent, restless, uncontainable. As he announces on the second track, “Maskanta wa tsamaya” (“something that kicks ass”).
More than four decades on, Sangoma is both an historical document and a timeless invocation. From his home in Mamelodi to the world and back again, Tabane’s spiritual healing endures—raw, electric, and unbowed.

Ghanaian hiplife phenom Yaw Atta-Owusu presents charming results of his first studio session since 1994’s sleeper hit ‘Obaa Sima’, which found an overdue, cult audience via the blogosphere as one of Awesome Tapes From Africa’s earliest and greatest drops in 2015. If you weren’t snagged on the ohrwurming keys, vox, and groove of the title tune to Ata Kak’s ‘Obaa Sima’ in 2015, you probably weren’t going to the right clubs and checking the right sites. 10 years later it still kills and is set to be joined by this fresh haul from the Bishop Beatz recording studio in Kumasi, Ghana, where Ata Kak laid down ‘Batakari’, his 1st recordings in three decades, recapturing the moxie of his original sound on six cuts that betray time and space travelled within more ambitious arrangements of signature fast chat factored by layered harmonies and rhythmic variegation. “Honed in studios around Kumasi over the last several years, the songs feature the rapper-singer’s acrobatic rap, signature scatting, dramatic drums and even traditional Akan harp. The compositions are more ambitious than his earlier work, with more complex arrangements and layered harmonies. Ata Kak’s new songs are also the natural expression of a restless artist—he is a prolific poet and author of a half-dozen books, as well as an active gardener and busy painter. Born in Ghana in 1960, Ata Kak wasn’t always involved in music. But his travels and openness to the world lead him into the music industry. While living in Germany, he was invited to play drums in a reggae band and subsequently played in highlife bands in Ontario after moving to the Toronto area. He recorded “Obaa Sima” there at his home studio and released it in Ghana in 1994. He didn’t participate in music much in the intervening years until “Obaa Sima” was reissued in 2015. He started performing his song live with the help of a brilliant cast of London-based musicians and has toured three continents and played to thousands of fans in venues of all kinds.”

Planet Ilunga presents, in collaboration with the children of Nico Kasanda alias Docteur Nico, an anthology dedicated to African Fiesta Sukisa, available as a 3LP and a digital release (with bonus songs). This release is the fruit of many years of preparations and was realized in close partnership with Liliane Kasanda, Nico’s eldest daughter. Marking forty years since his passing, we felt that the year 2025 was the right time to honor Docteur Nico’s legacy with this original collection.
Almost all of the African Fiesta Sukisa songs were released on Nico’s Sukisa label which translates in Lingala for “the final accomplishment”. The music on Sukisa, crafted by Nico, Dechaud and legendary vocalists such as Chantal, Sangana, Apôtre, Lessa Lassan and Josky, embodies the essence of that powerful phrase with genius and class. The label ran between 1966 and 1975 and released approximately 280 songs. Ngoma also issued the group between 1967 and 1971 and, in addition, reissued material from the Sukisa label. Many of the Sukisa songs have become part of the collective memory of Congolese society and are still heard, discussed, and analyzed daily across digital platforms worldwide, as well as on numerous Congolese radio and television stations.
The album we put together features some of African Fiesta Sukisa’s signature songs alongside never before reissued tracks from the Sukisa catalog. It furthermore contains a large booklet with song commentary, testimonial interviews from well-known musicians, journalists, fans and Nico’s entourage, besides never-before-published photos from the family’s personal archive, illustrating the life and career of the one and only ‘dieu de la guitare’.
Alastair Johnston, author of the book ‘A Discography of Docteur Nico’ and longstanding Planet Ilunga collaborator, designed a stylish booklet and cover using all our collected material. Audifax Bemba, longtime admirer, compiler and connoisseur of Nico’s music, and the author of most of the song commentary in our accompanying and very visual booklet, offers his portrait of Nico Kasanda:
“After displaying technical virtuosity with African Jazz, expert and accomplished guitar with African Fiesta, which musicologist Sylvain Bemba described as a dream guitar, Nico Kasanda was consecrated ‘dieu de la guitare’ by the public in the late sixties. With his band African Fiesta Sukisa, Docteur Nico displays his wide palette of unusual sounds. While exploring the Hawaiian guitar with its clear, airy, plangent, psychedelic effluvia, he continues to replicate the piano comping technique, and adds two missing strings to his bow: a simulation of the sanza (likembé or thumb piano), whose sounds he reproduces right down to the noisemakers of the tiny tin rings on the one hand, and the sounds of the Luba balafon on the other.
The right note, in the right place, at the right time, is the triptych on which Nico Kasanda’s playing is based, a note dressed in the perfect sound. A guitar of pure emotion. With African Fiesta Sukisa, his playing takes a ‘Chopin-esque’ turn, sending out more notes in a sublime adagio. The true artist is the one who simplifies everything. Docteur Nico is a genius of our time, whose style makes him the supreme exponent of the most important guitar school in Congolese music. He is recognized by his peers as the greatest African solo guitarist of all time. Sculpting sound in a tireless quest for beauty, Nico Kasanda has sublimated the guitar throughout his career.”

The evolution of Congolese popular music in the 1960s and 70s is generally classified into two major schools: African Jazz & OK Jazz. The main representatives of those schools are Joseph Kabasele alias Grand Kallé, founder of African Jazz, and Franco Luambo, co-founder of O.K. Jazz. Two temperaments and ambiances, one commonly referred to as ‘fiesta’, the other as ‘odemba’, both seeking their own sublimity or ideal.
For the very first time, a compilation brings together explicitly the main protagonists of the two bands on the same album, with a collection of their songs recorded in the early sixties for the Surboum African Jazz label, in addition to three tracks made by Kallé’s bands in the late sixties.
The heirs of Joseph Kabasele and Franco Luambo kindly gave permission in Kinshasa to release this original selection on Planet Ilunga about these virtuosi of Congolese Rumba on Planet Ilunga.

"Indépendance Cha Cha” was an historic song, not only because it immortalized Congo’s independence in its lyrics, but also because it was the first single published by a Congolese-owned record label. Joseph Kabasele’s label Surboum African Jazz indeed paved the way for several Congolese musicians to become record publishers. It resulted in the 1960s in a plethora of newly found Kinshasa-based record labels, run by the biggest musicians of the time.
With this new series “Les éditeurs congolais”, Planet Ilunga aims to honour and highlight the phonographic and entrepreneurial work of those first Congolese record label bosses. We kick off with a compilation of one of the most significant labels, Les Editions Populaires. This label, founded by Franco Luambo Makiadi in 1968 after he first co-founded with Vicky Longomba the labels Epanza Makita (+/- 117 singles) and Boma Bango (+/- 50 singles) and after starting his first short-lived label Likembe (+/- 5 singles), ran until 1982 and was mostly dedicated to the output of OK Jazz (later TPOK Jazz).
This compilation brings together an original selection of 16 tracks from the first three years of Les Editions Populaires. They are a showcase of the sound Franco had envisioned for his band. The focus was less on cha-cha-cha and Spanish lyrics, but on lingering rumba and bolero ballads in Lingala, tradition-rooted songs in Kikongo, Kimongo and even Yoruba, collaborations with Ngoma artists Camille Feruzi and Manuel d’Oliveira and not to forget solid pastiches of American funk, which were showing that the OK Jazz musicians had an open-minded view on music and were capable of excelling in many genres. Mama Na Ngai indeed!

Planet Ilunga, the Brussels-based publisher has, since 2013, produced a series of recordings dedicated to the history of Congolese popular music from artists like Franco & OK Jazz, Docteur Nico, Orchestre Rock-a-Mambo and Joseph Kabasele & African Jazz. For its tenth release and in celebration of its tenth anniversary, the label launches with "The Soul of Congo" its most ambitious project to date: a well-documented and extensive anthology (on 3LP + 3CD) about the illustrious and legendary Congolese music label Ngoma.
The Soul of Congo is a compilation that spans the years from 1948 to 1963 as the Belgian Congo emerged from colonial subjugation into the first flower of Independence. Singers and players came to Congo’s capital Léopoldville, from all over Central Africa — from the streets of Brazzaville on the opposite shore of the Congo river to the vast plateau of Mbanza Congo in Angola, from the mineral rich areas of Lubumbashi (Elizabethville) in the Deep South to the lively docks of Kisangani (Stanleyville) in the northeast, from the rocky wastes of Mbandaka (Coquilhatville) in the West to the majestic forests of Bukavu (Costermansville) in the East.
Léopoldville became a cauldron of musical syncretism between the African rhythms that arrived with these musicians and the European, Caribbean and Cuban tunes that were popular in the big city. The new sounds were recorded for one of the big five Congo labels: Opika, Loningisa, Esengo, Olympia or Ngoma. None of the other Congolese labels better showcased the energy, variety & spirit of this era than the Ngoma label. The label was founded by the Greek Nicolas Jéronimidis in 1948. After his early death in 1951, it was further developed by Nikis Cavvadias and Alexandros Jéronimidis. During its existence, from 1948 until 1971, Ngoma made over 4500 recordings, creating a crucial cultural legacy. Now with Unesco declaring Congolese Rumba as an intangible cultural heritage of humanity as of December 2021, it is fitting they are restored to the ears of the world.
As the Ngoma label flourished, so too did the first big stars of this new sound: Manuel d’Oliveira from San Salvador, Antoine Kolosoy “Wendo’’ from Bandundu and Léon Bukasa from Katanga. The three of them are heavily featured in the Ngoma catalogue and in this compilation. Ngoma also provided a way for female singers, such as Martha Badibala, to rise to fame and inspire other women to dream of a life beyond taking care of the kids and husband. Futhermore, the label was keen to record traditional folkloric music, such as the songs by likembe player Antoine Mundanda. It also looked for fresh talent as far away as Brussels where they recorded Camerounian heartthrob Charles Lembe fronting a fierce quartet on some flashy adapted Cuban Guaracha rhythms. Instrumentalists like Antoine Kasongo (clarinet), Albino Kalombo (sax) and Tino Baroza (guitar) also made their mark through the Ngoma recordings.
Ngoma is also known for releasing Adou Elenga’s hit “Ata Ndele,” that criticized the white colonists. It led to his imprisonment and the song being quickly deleted from the catalogue after its release in 1954 (long sought after, a rare original copy has been found for this compilation). Angolan Paul Mwanga, too, was unstinting in his criticism of the colonials, and he was also active with authors’ rights associations. Frank Lassan was a singer who brought the romantic style of French crooners to Congolese popular culture, while guitar wizard Manoka De Saïo or “Maitre Colon Gentil” were flamboyant popular figures in the nightclub scene, captured on disc. Guitar prodigies like Antoine Nedule “Papa Noel” or Mose Se Sengo “Fan Fan” cut their teeth as teenagers in studio bands. The band names changed rapidly — Beguen Band, Jazz Mango, Jazz Venus, Dynamic Jazz, Affeinta Jazz, Mysterieux Jazz, Orchestre Novelty, Rumbanella Bande, Vedette Jazz, La Palma, Negrita Jazz — all of them are heard here.
Dedicated record collectors came together to make this compilation possible. From the USA, Belgium, Japan, France, Morocco and The Netherlands, these generous fans of the music have pooled their collections for the compilation, assembled and annotated by Alastair Johnston who runs the Muzikifan website from California. He dedicates this release to Flemming Harrev from the reference website afrodisc.com who passed away in 2020. Legendary but unheard songs were tracked down, some emerging from dead stock in a forgotten Tanzanian record store. Experts who have made previous compilations were solicited for their advice and recommendations; liner notes, graduate theses, African periodicals, blogs and documents by authorities such as Jean-Pierre Nimy Nzonga, Sylvain Konko, Gary Stewart, Manda Tchebwa, and Michel Lonoh were scoured for clues.
There are 69 songs on the 3CD set and 42 on the 3LP set. Two of the LPs are distilled from the 3CD set, while the third “bonus” LP" has a different selection of songs by Léon Bukasa and others. While this is unusual, we felt there was so much great material, the vinyl collectors would enjoy an extra album of out-takes from the shortlist that was originally over four hours in length.

Planet Ilunga, the Brussels-based publisher has, since 2013, produced a series of recordings dedicated to the history of Congolese popular music from artists like Franco & OK Jazz, Docteur Nico, Orchestre Rock-a-Mambo and Joseph Kabasele & African Jazz. For its tenth release and in celebration of its tenth anniversary, the label launches with "The Soul of Congo" its most ambitious project to date: a well-documented and extensive anthology (on 3LP + 3CD) about the illustrious and legendary Congolese music label Ngoma.
The Soul of Congo is a compilation that spans the years from 1948 to 1963 as the Belgian Congo emerged from colonial subjugation into the first flower of Independence. Singers and players came to Congo’s capital Léopoldville, from all over Central Africa — from the streets of Brazzaville on the opposite shore of the Congo river to the vast plateau of Mbanza Congo in Angola, from the mineral rich areas of Lubumbashi (Elizabethville) in the Deep South to the lively docks of Kisangani (Stanleyville) in the northeast, from the rocky wastes of Mbandaka (Coquilhatville) in the West to the majestic forests of Bukavu (Costermansville) in the East.
Léopoldville became a cauldron of musical syncretism between the African rhythms that arrived with these musicians and the European, Caribbean and Cuban tunes that were popular in the big city. The new sounds were recorded for one of the big five Congo labels: Opika, Loningisa, Esengo, Olympia or Ngoma. None of the other Congolese labels better showcased the energy, variety & spirit of this era than the Ngoma label. The label was founded by the Greek Nicolas Jéronimidis in 1948. After his early death in 1951, it was further developed by Nikis Cavvadias and Alexandros Jéronimidis. During its existence, from 1948 until 1971, Ngoma made over 4500 recordings, creating a crucial cultural legacy. Now with Unesco declaring Congolese Rumba as an intangible cultural heritage of humanity as of December 2021, it is fitting they are restored to the ears of the world.
As the Ngoma label flourished, so too did the first big stars of this new sound: Manuel d’Oliveira from San Salvador, Antoine Kolosoy “Wendo’’ from Bandundu and Léon Bukasa from Katanga. The three of them are heavily featured in the Ngoma catalogue and in this compilation. Ngoma also provided a way for female singers, such as Martha Badibala, to rise to fame and inspire other women to dream of a life beyond taking care of the kids and husband. Futhermore, the label was keen to record traditional folkloric music, such as the songs by likembe player Antoine Mundanda. It also looked for fresh talent as far away as Brussels where they recorded Camerounian heartthrob Charles Lembe fronting a fierce quartet on some flashy adapted Cuban Guaracha rhythms. Instrumentalists like Antoine Kasongo (clarinet), Albino Kalombo (sax) and Tino Baroza (guitar) also made their mark through the Ngoma recordings.
Ngoma is also known for releasing Adou Elenga’s hit “Ata Ndele,” that criticized the white colonists. It led to his imprisonment and the song being quickly deleted from the catalogue after its release in 1954 (long sought after, a rare original copy has been found for this compilation). Angolan Paul Mwanga, too, was unstinting in his criticism of the colonials, and he was also active with authors’ rights associations. Frank Lassan was a singer who brought the romantic style of French crooners to Congolese popular culture, while guitar wizard Manoka De Saïo or “Maitre Colon Gentil” were flamboyant popular figures in the nightclub scene, captured on disc. Guitar prodigies like Antoine Nedule “Papa Noel” or Mose Se Sengo “Fan Fan” cut their teeth as teenagers in studio bands. The band names changed rapidly — Beguen Band, Jazz Mango, Jazz Venus, Dynamic Jazz, Affeinta Jazz, Mysterieux Jazz, Orchestre Novelty, Rumbanella Bande, Vedette Jazz, La Palma, Negrita Jazz — all of them are heard here.
Dedicated record collectors came together to make this compilation possible. From the USA, Belgium, Japan, France, Morocco and The Netherlands, these generous fans of the music have pooled their collections for the compilation, assembled and annotated by Alastair Johnston who runs the Muzikifan website from California. He dedicates this release to Flemming Harrev from the reference website afrodisc.com who passed away in 2020. Legendary but unheard songs were tracked down, some emerging from dead stock in a forgotten Tanzanian record store. Experts who have made previous compilations were solicited for their advice and recommendations; liner notes, graduate theses, African periodicals, blogs and documents by authorities such as Jean-Pierre Nimy Nzonga, Sylvain Konko, Gary Stewart, Manda Tchebwa, and Michel Lonoh were scoured for clues.
There are 69 songs on the 3CD set and 42 on the 3LP set. Two of the LPs are distilled from the 3CD set, while the third “bonus” LP" has a different selection of songs by Léon Bukasa and others. While this is unusual, we felt there was so much great material, the vinyl collectors would enjoy an extra album of out-takes from the shortlist that was originally over four hours in length.

Planet Ilunga continues its mission to uncover and highlight the overlooked yet epic achievements in the world of Congolese rumba. This time to tell the most spectacular story of all. This is the story of the creation of Surboum African Jazz, the first Congolese music label founded by a Congolese.
Surboum African Jazz was owned and managed by the best singer of all time, Joseph Kabasele, alias Grand Kallé. The label's catalog during the period 1960–63 is largely dominated by Grand Kallé’s band African Jazz in its various formations. The band, which could rely in 1961 and 1962 on a real dream team of musicians (Docteur Nico, Dechaud, Rochereau, Manu Dibango, Roger Izeidi and Mujos among others), released in this period at least 212 songs. The second largest source of music for the label is Franco’s band O.K. Jazz with at least 136 released songs. Next, with at least 34 released songs comes Manu Dibango with his different formations. These were the first ever published songs of the late Manu Dibango. For this compilation we chose an original selection of songs recorded by African Jazz in 1961 and 1962. We also included a few songs of Dibango’s bands in the final selection, in order to showcase the diversity and universal philosophy of Grand Kallé’s label.
This adventurous music which was recorded in Brussels (Belgium) in the months and years after Congo’s independence is nothing less than post-colonial glory wrapped around popular music. It’s a collection of proud name-dropping songs, political and patriotic lyrics, euphoric declarations of love and explorations towards new and universal impulses and styles. The releases on Surboum African Jazz are for many Congolese the icing on the cake in the iconic history of Congolese rumba. They are a time capsule of the longing of Congolese society to be absorbed in the momentum of the nations. At the same time they are a testimonial of the musical excellence of the African Jazz musicians.
The vinyl edition of this first ever double LP anthology of Surboum African Jazz comes with a large, thoroughly researched and well-illustrated 32-page booklet telling the whole story of this label. Included in the book, among other content, is a text by Alan Brain (director of The Rumba Kings) with never before published information and photos about the epic Table Ronde tour of African Jazz in Belgium, France and The Netherlands in the winter and spring of 1960. This text is the fruit of a research Alan initiated, and then further developed in collaboration with the Congolese author and scholar Manda Tchebwa. Furthermore, you can find in the book a detailed documentation of the recording tours in Brussels in 1961 and 1962, besides a discography of the Surboum African Jazz label and many testimonials of the Congolese community about the first Congolese music label founded by a Congolese.
“Roger Izeidi Presents Vita Matata with African Fiesta” is a double LP anthology released by Planet Ilunga, featuring a wealth of rare and previously unreleased recordings from African Fiesta in the early 1960s. With legendary figures such as Docteur Nico on guitar and Tabu Ley Rochereau on vocals, this archival gem captures the golden age of Congolese music in its purest form.
