analog africa

It’s a special, but also a strange sensation to be releasing an album of one of your early musical heroes. I first discovered The Movers on my very first “record safari” in 1996. My destination was Bulawayo, in southern Zimbabwe, and to get there I had to travel via Jo’burg. While in town I stopped at a store called Kohinoor, in search of Mbaqanga – also known as Township Jive – and found a few tapes which I listened to non-stop on the bus that carried me to the land of Chimurenga Music. One of these cassettes included the songs “Hot Coffee” and “Phukeng Special” which instantly became part of my daily life. Twenty-five years later I’m still grooving to them. What I didn't know at that time was that The Movers were hugely successful during the 1970s; so when it came time to release some of their music, I though it was going to be “a walk in the park” to track down information about them and write their biography. I was in for a rude awakening. Despite their legendary status, there was almost no information available on band or any of its members. Fortunately Nicky Blumenfeld from Kaya Radio came to the rescue. A few days after I reached out to her, she had managed to get the phone number of Kenneth Siphayi, who is considered to be the founder of the band, as well as vocalist Blondie Makhene and saxophonist Lulu Masilela. Although we left no stone unturned, we were unable to find any of the four original members who seem to have passed away in total anonymity. The story of The Movers began in 1967 when two unknown musicians – the brothers Norman and Oupa Hlongwane – approached Kenneth Siphayi a stylish and wealthy businessman from the Alexandra township to ask if he could buy them musical instruments. In return he would receive a cut from future life shows and record deals. Kenneth, ended up doing much more, becoming their manager, setting them up in a rehearsal space, and introducing them to an organist who would prove to be the missing link in the band’s skeletal sound. He also gave them their name: The Movers … because, as he said, their music was going to move you, whether you liked it or not. The band exploded onto the country’s racially-segregated music scene at the dawn of the 1970s with a sound that applied the rolling organ grooves and elastic rhythms of American soul to songs that came straight from the heart of the townships. Rumours of the band started to spread throughout the country and soon the record labels were sending their talent scouts to the Alexandra township to hear it for themselves. The Movers finally signed to Teal Records in 1969, and their first album, Crying Guitar, went on to sell 500,000 copies within the first three months, launching them into the front rank of South African bands. In their first year they went from local sensations to being the first band of black South Africans to have their music cross over to the country’s white radio stations. Although the first record was entirely instrumental, The Movers started working with different singers soon after – scoring an early hit with 14 year old vocal prodigy Blondie Makhene – and enriched their sonic palette with horns, extra percussion and various keyboards. Their stylistic range also expanded, incorporating elements of Marabi, Mbaqanga, jazz, funk, and reggae into their soul-steeped sound. But the essence of their music came from the almost telepathic connection of its founding members: the simmering organ of Sankie Chounyane, the laid-back guitar lines of Oupa Hlongwane, the energetic bass grooves of Norman Hlongwane and the simmering rhythms of drummer of Sam Thabo. The band reached their apex in the mid-1970s, and their hit ‘Soweto Inn’, sung by Sophie Thapedi, became inseparable from the student revolts that signalled a new resistance to the apartheid government. In 1976, however, their manager was forced out, and their producer started to play a more active role in the band’s direction. By the end of the decade there were no original members left. But at their height The Movers were titans of South African soul who left a legacy of over a dozen albums and countless singles of pure groove. On The Movers 1970–76, Analog Africa presents 14 of the finest tracks from the band’s undisputed peak.

Less than a hundred miles inland from the capital city of Lima lies the great Peruvian jungle, an untamed land of impenetrable forests and endless winding rivers. In its isolated cities, cut off from the fashions of the capital, a unique style of music began to develop, inspired equally by the sounds of the surrounding forests, the roll of the mighty Amazon and Ucayali Rivers, and the rhythms of cumbia picked up from distant stations on transistor radios. With the arrival of electricity, a new generation of young musicians started plugging in their guitars and trading in their accordions for synthesizers: Amazonian cumbia was born. Powered by fast-paced timbale rhythms, driven by spidery, treble-damaged guitar lines, and drenched in bright splashes of organ, Amazonian cumbia was like a hyperactive distant cousin of surf music crossed with an all-night dance party in the heart of the forest. While many of the genre’s greatest tracks were instrumental, and others were simple celebrations of life in the jungle, the goal of every song was to keep the party going. Radio stations in Lima remained unaware of the new electric sounds emanating from the jungle, but a handful of pioneering record producers ventured over the mountain passes to the cities of Tarapoto, Moyobamba, Pucallpa – even Iquitos, a city reachable only by boat or plane – and lured dozens of bands to the recording studios of the capital to lay down their best tracks. Although many became local hits, few were ever heard outside the Amazonian region... until now. With eighteen tracks from some of the greatest names in Amazonian cumbia, Perú Selvatico is both the improbable soundtrack to a beach party on a banks of the Amazon and a psychedelic safari into the sylvan mysteries of the Peruvian jungle.

I am facing a dilemma: how does the founder of an independent music label justify creating a project highlighting, even praising piracy, the very plague that has brought many labels to the brink of bankruptcy? I first became aware of “pirata” LPs in 2020 while hunting for records in Mexico City: their weird-looking DIY covers – and the edited, tweaked, EQ-manipulated and pitched-down music they contained – got me hooked. There was no denying it: the more I became immersed in the world of these illicit productions the more I became intrigued; and before long it became crystal clear that I would one day release my own compilation compiled out of pirated compilations. But beyond my own fascination with that parallel world, it was undeniable that the “pirata” movement had played a significant role in shaping the musical scene of Mexico. So how did it all start? During the 1980s, a group of music dealers and record collectors from Mexico City joined forces to create a series of illegally manufactured vinyl records containing rare and highly-sought hits from Perú, Ecuador, Colombia and beyond. At the time, Mexico City’s dance-party scene was ruled by the sonideros, a highly developed network of mobile soundsystem operators. The popularity of the sonideros led to a growing demand for tropical music, as their fan base became increasingly hungry for the “exclusive” hits associated with particular sonidos. Additionally record dealers were getting frustrated with the music industry constantly “feeding” them streams of mediocre records and from this frustration came the idea of compiling and manufacturing LPs on which every song was a hit: “no matter where the needle dropped, it had to be a song capable of igniting the party.” These bootleg compilations – known as “pirata” – were pressed during graveyard shift on recycled vinyl in editions of no more than 500; they were cheaply produced and sold just as cheaply to people who otherwise wouldn’t have been able to afford them. They were played extensively in every corner of Mexico’s heavily-populated barrios where, in addition to educating the ears of the youngsters, they also promoted some of the best tropical music recorded in Latin America. According to various first-hand accounts these “piratas” began to appear mysteriously in the early 1980s at various market stalls in Tepito, Mexico City’s infamous barrio, a place where one can attend daytime Salsa parties, get any drug imaginable, buy any kind of weapon and, of course, purchase pirated music in all formats. It seems that the manufacturers of pirata LPs worked on the principle that “what happens in Tepito stays in Tepito” and getting information about their bootlegging operations was difficult, not to mention dangerous. My partner in crime – Carlos “Tropicaza” Icaza, who had agreed to write the notes to this project – was quick to point out that: “We won’t be able to disclose any names. We’ll have to be careful how we tell the story!” At first the pirata LPs came in a simple generic covers, had made-up company names such as Discos Music-Hall, Carioca, Garden, or Miami, and contained popular street-dance songs in nearly every tropical genre. As these unlikely compilations became successful and new ones started being produced at a rate of one per month, the pirates began designing and printing interesting looking covers which often featured the logos of some of the most popular sonidos such as Rolas, Pancho, La Changa, Arco-Iris, Casablanca. The pioneer of this design style was Jaime Ruelas, who had started out as a DJ for the legendary mobile discoteque Polymarchs before using his illustration skills to design their flyers, posters and logos. Taking direct inspiration from science fiction movies and heavy metal covers, the graphics he created became a key element of sonidero culture. The anonymous manufacturers may not have realised it at the time but, in daring to create pirata LPs, they were helping to consolidate and expand a love for tropical music and dance among the population of Mexico City and beyond. The records themselves are a key element of the sonidero culture that was recently declared as part of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Mexico City for the impact that it has had on multiple generations who identified with the communal experience of the street party, and for whom music and dance became an essential part of daily life. This double-LP contains 23 tropical floor-fillers sourced from the finest and strangest pirata LPs produced during the golden age of Mexico City’s mobile soundsystems. It also includes a large booklet containing extensive notes and photos and It is dedicated to all the sonideros for their ground-breaking roles as ambassadors of tropical music within mexican society.