The first thing you realise when you witness an afrobeat show for the first time is that it’s all about the spectacle, this is showmanship of the highest order. It’s not like the music isn’ explosive enough, driving slabs of funk grooves, stabbing horns and traditional African percussion, with shakers, hand drums even a woodblock. But that’s only the beginning. It’s how afrobeat operates, there are multiple levels at play here, and its extremely unlikely that anyone who experiences the show wont be moved by at least one. The band are arranged reminiscent of the big bands of the past, which adds a touch of nostalgic grandeur, with the musicians lined up towards the back of the stage. They’re leaving room for the incredible back up singers, who adorned in face paint and skimpy outfits dance and writhe in unison while also offer call and response style vocals. Sex too is a major part of the show in the movement of both the backup singers and in Kuti’ incredible movements, but also in the insistent throb of the music. This is music to free your ass.
In this sense there’ something peculiar about the show being at the recital centre, the acoustics of course are incredible in a grand multi storeyed room purpose built for music, yet afrobeat is about movement not chin stroking.
“Where I come from the man is king, but we cherish our ladies,†offers the Egypt 80 keyboardist Lekan Animashaun as a peculiar way of introduction. He then introduces the band one by one to rapturous applause before the band launch into the Yoruba highlife track about materialism Ohun Aiye, something of a departure from their latest album A Long Way to The Beginning.
We roar when Kuti strides onto stage stylishly dressed in lemon slacks and a green shirt, meaning there were only two places he could go, either on stage or to a golf course. He looks delighted with a huge grin and wave to the crowd, before doing what he does best – which is work. This is the third time this writer has seen him play and his workload on stage is unsurpassed. Early on it felt like he was demonstrating his worth to his older band mates, still trying to find himself in the role, taking the mantle of bandleader not via charisma or self entitled ego but by sheer workload. In 2014 at the Recital Centre he has the charisma, he has the mantle, and you can’ take your eyes off him. Yet his workload hasn’ changed one iota, if he’ not playing sax he’ singing and if he’ not singing he’ dancing. In fact his dancing is remarkable. He’ taken some of Fela’ moves and escalated, no one moves like this man, no one has ever moved like this man, cocking his shoulders, thrusting his legs out the music is flowing through him. It’s too much for many of us in our seats and soon enough people are making for the aisles, which soon fill up with writhing bodies.
They play everything off their latest album, including the incendiary single IMF (International Mother Fuckers), though surprise with an early cover of Fela’ VIP (Vagabonds In Power). A real highlight is the afrobeat ballad, Black Women, which with a languid extended intro is a welcome respite from the relentless afro funk march of many of their pieces, and the lyrics, which seemed a little forced and self conscious on the album feel powerful and passionate in person. It may have something to do with the intro, where Kuti boldly proclaimed that the woman’ movement wasn’ a fight for sexual equality, it was a fight for intellectual equality, before talking about skin bleaching among women as a sign of prosperity, and lambasting Rihanna and Beyonce as role models, “they’re as white as you!†He proclaims. “If you have black skin in my country you look like you’re suffering,†he laments.
Kuti seems keen to talk politics, though the passivity of the seated audience works against it, as he wasn’ getting much back. “In Nigeria politicians would laugh at a politician who resigned over a $3,000 bottle of wine,†he suggests simultaneously highlighting the corruption in African politics whilst demonstrating he was better informed on Australian politics than the majority of the audience who seemed to have little to no understanding about what he was talking about. Later he spoke of aid to Africa. We take money from the poor people of Australia and give it to the rich people in Africa. That’s aid. He repeated it twice, and seemed like he wanted to go on, before deciding against it and launching into an extended version of Kalakuta Boy.
Kuti worked for his band and he worked for the audience, drenched in sweat he didn’ let up. A Long Way to The Beginning is truly a prophetic title. He in particular, though also Egypt 80 have worked hard over the years to get where they are today. Their music is progressing afrobeat forwards and it feels vital, malleable, and full of possibilities in a way it hasn’ since the death of his father.
