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The unbreathable air saturated with moisture, the soggy soil that swallows every step like a starving death, the hostile nature and, finally, the remote swamp. The one they invested in composing Fire Eater. The one they left a few traces in. Tracks that can talk. Six men heavily armed with instruments, a seventh fastest, only weighted by a microphone. They left the inhospitable vegetation, leaving behind a succession of footprints. As we try to follow them, the afrobeat that made it easy to spot them now dissipates into a floating mist. So, we have to connect the radars and try to capture the vintage waves of equipment that emit more than one point but several. Be attentive to jazz solos and funk scarifications, as much as to what could chant and tap on the times of these tight rhythms. Because their blending has become a personal style as much as hybrid, and it is to avoid being watched by asphyxiation that they left the stagnant waters. Escaped from the car sound systems or plastered on the walls announcing their many concerts, it is in the city that they are now detected. Infiltrating them is a daunting task. A track where you have to avoid the vigilance of the electric and venomous keyboards, escape the copper flames and the guitar shears. Enter the choking groove to finally enjoy a purely instrumental passage, sneak in and dance. Progress outside the Afro mangrove, Running The Way nevertheless retains many cables still connected. The bottom of the jeans still ‘Roforofo’. ‘Muddy’ in Yoruba. Just 2 years after the first EP Fire Eater released in 2021, Radio Nova’s crush (title Helelyos enthroned 3 months in playlist), the Roforofo Jazz returns with the LP Running The Way, 8 tracks even more ambitious, with careful production, marking a clear progression in its quest for an increasingly more personal sound and writing. Putting the listener immediately in the tone of his atypical afro jazz rap fury, Love In Time and its sharp rhythmic appeal to the power of the music, in an ultra-energetic piece yet smelling with jazz via well-felt keyboard surges. Side To Side is a rearrangement of a piece by Togolese artist Bella Bello and Manu Dibango, yet glancing towards Motown and resonating like a anthem to life and directions to take to counter the negativity of our modern societies. Then on Stand Up in a more deepfunk US style like Breakestra or The Greyboy Allstars, MC Days (aka RacecaR) switches between fast flows and downtempo in an injunction to all fight for what we believe in. An epic piece concluded with a nod to Master Hendrix… Gas punctuates the A side with a light but saving rhythmic lull, coming closer to a nu-soul atmosphere and punctuated with an explosive refrain in which rap, rock and jazz clash, tending to prove as Days chants that by being more realistic our differences can only fade…Title Shawarma has nothing to do with a Kebab sandwich, although…! Life unfolds like a menu, in which everything is not always to our liking but which teaches us to accept judicious and juicy mixes, and combinations. The result is a joint with an oriental touch, almost ethio, a rhythm that perfectly matches the hip-hop flow and the Roforofo Jazz style.The Big Hustle is a UFO. Articulated around a 20 bars loop that gives it a communicative energy, punctuated by a bass line reminiscent of Fela Kuti’s Colonial Mentality, this title sounds like a highway for frantic breakbeat dancers; epic! From Here To Benin brings us back to the group’s Afro-inspired origins, while injecting a slight dose of well-felt pop music. A piece that encourages travel to learn to share, universally. And finally, Mode For DD, a cover of the instrumental title of the obscure jazz funk of The Awakening, with added voice of Days telling the meaning of life and its mysteries, our beliefs and certainties, as human beings as well as artists.

Berlin versus Kaolack, round three. A traditional Jola rhythm, fast and energetic, with tuned, talking and kit drums swarming across a skeletal downhome guitar — somewhere between blues and disco — and the Mboup brothers' impassioned plea for an end to division and bloodshed in their Casamance homeland.
Then a more deeply dug-in, spaced-out funk, edgily spun from a Serer rhythm, underpinning Mbene's reflective song about parental selflessness. 'Sama Yaye', 'My Mother'. Both with full instrumental versions.

Sound-wise peas in a pod with the intricate, soaring barrage of Ornette's Prime Time in full flight, when it had two of everything in the lineup, and Jamaaladeen Tacuma was on bass, Denardo on electronic drums.

A sophomore three-tracker: singer Mbene Diatta Seck in sombre consideration of street-kids and parental neglect, buoyed by propulsive drumming and trenchant bass; a second version without vocals, laying bare the poly-rhythmic interplay between marimba and percussion; and a mesmeric six-minute instrumental, with bassist Thierno Sarr grooving out on the top string of his instrument, bringing an elusive Manding flavor to the deep Mbalax mix.

No shortage of colorful characters emerged from Cameroon's bikutsi scene in the 1980's and early 90's. Gibraltar Drakus is one of the most enduring and enigmatic of the artists who helped transform bikutsi into a beautifully endless fabric of triplet rhythms that eventually reached ears around the world. Following the advent of Cameroon Radio Television in 1987, bikutsi began to supplant makossa and soukous for domination of the local airwaves and the attention of cosmopolitan, thrill-seeking residents of Cameroon's capitalYaoundé and beyond. Biktusi perfectly fused Beti traditional music and increasingly electronic, highly rhythmic guitar-based bikutsi. Mimicking the sound of village-based xylophone music by rigging a mute to electric guitar strings, bikutsi artists provided a relentlessly energetic dance format for those with a taste for music steeped in their hometown sensibility (countering the popular makossa that many felt sounded less indigenous). By the early 1990's, Les Tetes Brûlées were indisputably the most famous and influential artists in bikutsi, due in part to the innovations of their incendiary guitarist Théodore Zanzibar Epeme. Following their first European tour in 1987, the ba...

1958, in the middle of the liberation war. While the rattle of machine guns could be heard in the maquis, in the city, the population listened at low volume to Algerian patriotic songs broadcast by the powerful Egyptian radio: “The Voice of the Arabs”. These artists all belonged to a troupe created by the self-proclaimed management of the National Liberation Front (FLN), based in Tunis and claiming to gather a “representative” sample of the Algerian musical movement of the time, among which Ahmed Wahby (who sang Wahran Wahran, a song popularized by Khaled) and Wafia from Oran, Farid Aly the Kabyle, and H’sissen, the champion of Algiers’ Chaâbi. The same year, singer Ben Achour was killed in conditions that have never been elucidated.
Algiers, by a summer evening in 1960. Cafe terraces were crowded and glasses of anisette kept coming with metronomic regularity, despite the alarming music of police sirens heard at intervals and the silhouettes of soldiers marching in the streets. The mood was good, united by a tune escaping from everywhere: balconies, where laundry was finishing drying, windows wide open from apartments or restaurants serving the famous Algiers shrimps along with copious rosé wine. Couples spontaneously joined the party upon hearing “Ya Mustafa“, punctuated by improvised choirs screaming “Chérie je t’aime, chérie je t’adore“. The song, as played by Sétif-born Alberto Staïffi, was a phenomenal success, to the point that even FLN fighters adopted it unanimously. Hence an unfortunate misunderstanding that would trick colonial authorities into believing Mustafa was an ode to the glory of Fellaghas. In 1961, Cheikh Raymond Leyris, a Jewish grand master of ma’luf (one of Algeria’s three Andalusian waves) who was Enrico Macias’ professor, was killed in Constantine, making him the first victim of a terrorist wave that would catch up with Algeria at the dawn of the 1990s by attacking anything that thought, wrote or sang.
Mohamed Mazouni, born January 4, 1940 in Blida – “The City of Roses” both known for its beautiful ‘Blueberry Square’ (saht ettout) in the middle of which a majestic bandstand took center stage, and its brothels – had just turned twenty. He was rather handsome and his memory dragged around a lot of catchy refrains by Rabah Driassa and Abderrahmane Aziz, also natives of Blida, or by ‘asri (modern music) masters Bentir or Lamari. He would make good use of all these influences and many others stemming from the Algerian heritage.
The young Mohamed was certainly aware of his vocal limits, as he used to underline them: “I had a small voice, I came to terms with it!“. But it didn’t lack charm nor authenticity, and it was to improve with age. He began his singing career in those years, chosing bedoui as a style (a Saharan genre popularized among others by the great Khelifi Ahmed).
July 1962. The last French soldiers were preparing their pack. A jubilant crowd was proclaiming its joy of an independent Algeria. Remembering the impact of popular music to galvanize the “working classes”, the new authorities in office rewarded the former members of the FLN troupe by appointing them at the head of national orchestras. In widespread euphoria, the government encouraged odes to the recovered independence, and refrains to the glory of “restored dignity” sprung from everywhere. Abderrahmane Aziz, a star of ‘asri (Algiers’ yé-yé) was a favorite with Mabrouk Alik (“Congratulations, Mohamed / Algeria came back to you“); Blaoui Houari, a precursor of Raï music, praised the courage of Zabana the hero; Kamel Hamadi recalled in Kabyle the experience of Amirouche the chahid (martyr), and even the venerable Remitti had her own song for the Children of Algeria. All this under the benevolent eye (and ear) of the regime led by Ahmed Ben Bella, the herald of the single party and vigilant guardian of the “Arab-Islamic values” established as a code of conduct. Singers were praised the Egyptian model, as well as Andalusian art intended for a nascent petty bourgeoisie and decreed a “national classic”; some did not hesitate to sell out. These Khobzists – an Algerian humorous term mocking those who put “putting-food-on-the-table” reasons forward to justify their allegiance to the system – were to monopolize all programs and stages, while on the fringes, popular music settled for animating wedding or circumcision celebrations. Its absence in the media further strengthened its regionalization: each genre (chaâbi, chaouï, Kabyle, Oranian…) stayed confined within its local boundaries, and its “national representatives” were those whose tunes didn’t bother anyone. The first criticisms would emanate from France, where many Algerian artists went to tackle other styles. During the Kabyle-expression time slot on Radio Paris, Slimane Azem – once accused of “collaboration” – sang, evoking animals, the first political lines denouncing the dictatorship and preconceived thinking prevailing in his country. The reaction was swift: under pressure from the Algerian government, the Kabyle minute was cancelled. Even in Algeria, Ahmed Baghdadi aka Saber, an idol for fans of Raï music (still called “Oranian folklore”), was imprisoned for denouncing the bureaucracy of El Khedma (work).
For his part, Mazouni was to be noticed through a very committed song: Rebtouh Fel Mechnak (“They tied him to the guillotine”). But above all, the general public discovered him through a performance at the Ibn Khaldoun Theater (formerly Pierre Bordes Theater, in the heart of Algiers), broadcast by the Algerian Radio Broadcasting, later renamed ENTV. This would enable him to integrate the Algerian National Theater’s artistic troupe. Then, to pay tribute to independence, he sang “Farewell France, Hello Algeria”.
June 19, 1965: Boumediene’s coup only made matters worse. Algeria adopted a Soviet-style profile where everything was planned, even music. Associations devoted to Arab-Andalusian music proliferated and some sycophantic music movement emerged, in charge of spreading the message about “fundamental options”. Not so far from the real-fake lyricism epitomized by Djamel Amrani, the poet who evoked a “woman as beautiful as a self-managed farm”. The power glorified itself through cultural weeks abroad or official events, summoning troubadours rallied to its cause. On the other hand, popular music kept surviving through wedding, banquets and 45s recorded for private companies, undergoing censorship and increased surveillance from the military.
As for Mazouni, he followed his path, recording a few popular tunes, but he also was in the mood for traveling beyond the Mediterranean: “In 1969 I left Algeria to settle in France. I wanted to get a change of air, to discover new artistic worlds“. He, then, had no idea that he was about to become an idolized star within the immigrant community.
France. During the 1950s and 1960s, when parents were hugging the walls, almost apologizing for existing, a few Maghrebi artists assumed Western names to hide their origins. This was the case of Laïd Hamani, an Algerian from Kabylia, better known as Victor Leed, a rocker from the Golf Drouot’s heyday, or of Moroccan Berber Abdelghafour Mociane, the self-proclaimed “Vigon”, a hack of a r&b voice. Others, far more numerous, made careers in the shadow of cafes run by their compatriots, performing on makeshift stages: a few chairs around a table with two or three microphones on it, with terrible feedback occasionally interfering. Their names were Ahmed Wahby or Dahmane El Harrachi. Between the Bastille, Nation, Saint-Michel, Belleville and Barbès districts, an exclusively communitarian, generally male audience previously informed by a few words written on a slate, came to applaud the announced singers. It happened on Friday and Saturday nights, plus on extra Sunday afternoons.
In a nostalgia-clouded atmosphere heated by draft beers, customers – from this isolated population, a part of the French people nevertheless – hung on the words of these musicians who resembled them so much. Like many of them, they worked hard all week, impatiently waiting for the weekend to get intoxicated with some tunes from the village. Sometimes, they spent Saturday afternoons at movie theaters such as the Delta or the Louxor, with extra mini-concerts during intermissions, dreaming, eyes open, to the sound of Abdel Halim Hafez’ voice whispering melancholic songs or Indian laments made in Bombay on full screen. And the radio or records were also there for people to be touched to the rhythm of Oum Kalsoum’s songs, and scopitones as well to watch one’s favorite star’s videos again and again.
Dumbfounded, Mohamed received this atmosphere of culture of exile and much more in the face. Fully immersed in it, he soaked up the songs of Dahmane El Harrachi (the creator of Ya Rayah), Slimane Azem, Akli Yahiaten or Cheikh El Hasnaoui, but also those from the crazy years of twist and rock’n’roll as embodied by Johnny Hallyday, Les Chaussettes Noires or Les Chats Sauvages, not to mention Elvis Presley and the triumphant beginnings of Anglo-Saxon pop music. Between 1970 and 1990, he had a series of hits such bearing such titles as “Miniskirt”, “Darling Lady”, “20 years in France”, “Faded Blue”, Clichy, Daag Dagui, “Comrade”, “Tell me it’s not true” or “I’m the Chaoui”, some kind of unifying anthem for all regions of Algeria, as he explained: “I sang for people who, like me, experienced exile. I was and have always remained very attached to my country, Algeria. To me, it’s not about people from Constantine, Oran or Algiers, it’s just about Algerians. I sing in classical or dialectal Arabic as much as in French and Kabyle”.
Mazouni, a dandy shattered by his century and always all spruced up who barely performed on stage, had greatly benefited from the impact of scopitones, the ancestors of music videos – those image and sound machines inevitably found in many bars held by immigrants. His strength lay in Arabic lyrics all his compatriots could understand, and catchy melodies accompanied by violin, goblet drum, qanun, tar (a small tambourine with jingles), lute, and sometimes electric guitar on yé-yé compositions. Like a politician, Mazouni drew on all themes knowing that he would nail it each time. This earned him the nickname “Polaroid singer” – let’s add “kaleidoscope” to it. Both a conformist (his lectures on infidelity or mixed-race marriage) and disturbing singer (his lyrics about the agitation upon seeing a mini-skirt or being on the make in high school…), Mohamed Mazouni crossed the 1960s and 1970s with his dark humor and unifying mix of local styles. Besides his trivial topics, he also denounced racism and the appalling condition of immigrant workers. However, his way of telling of high school girls, cars and pleasure places earned him the favors of France’s young migrant zazous.
But by casting his net too wide, he made a mistake in 1991, during the interactive Gulf War, supporting Saddam Hussein’s position through his provocative title Zadam Ya Saddam (“Go Saddam”). He was banned from residing in France for five years, only returning in 2013 for a concert at the Arab World Institute where he appeared dressed as the Bedouin of his beginnings.
At the end of the 1990s, the very wide distribution of Michèle Collery and Anaïs Prosaïc’s documentary on Arabic and Berber scopitones (first on Canal+, then in many theaters with debates following about singing exile), highlighted Mazouni’s important role, giving new impetus to his career. Rachid Taha, who covered Ecoute-moi camarade, Zebda’s Mouss and Hakim with Adieu la France, Bonjour l’Algérie, as well as the Orchestre National de Barbès who played Tu n’es plus comme avant (Les roses), also contributed to the recognition of Mazouni by a new generation.
Living in Algeria, Mohamed Mazouni did not stop singing and even had a few local hits, always driven by a “wide targeting” ambition. This compilation, the first one dedicated to him, includes all of his never-reissued “hits” with, as a bonus, unobtainable songs such as L’amour Maâk, Bleu Délavé or Daag Dagui.1958, in the middle of the liberation war. While the rattle of machine guns could be heard in the maquis, in the city, the population listened at low volume to Algerian patriotic songs broadcast by the powerful Egyptian radio: “The Voice of the Arabs”. These artists all belonged to a troupe created by the self-proclaimed management of the National Liberation Front (FLN), based in Tunis and claiming to gather a “representative” sample of the Algerian musical movement of the time, among which Ahmed Wahby (who sang Wahran Wahran, a song popularized by Khaled) and Wafia from Oran, Farid Aly the Kabyle, and H’sissen, the champion of Algiers’ Chaâbi. The same year, singer Ben Achour was killed in conditions that have never been elucidated.
Algiers, by a summer evening in 1960. Cafe terraces were crowded and glasses of anisette kept coming with metronomic regularity, despite the alarming music of police sirens heard at intervals and the silhouettes of soldiers marching in the streets. The mood was good, united by a tune escaping from everywhere: balconies, where laundry was finishing drying, windows wide open from apartments or restaurants serving the famous Algiers shrimps along with copious rosé wine. Couples spontaneously joined the party upon hearing “Ya Mustafa“, punctuated by improvised choirs screaming “Chérie je t’aime, chérie je t’adore“. The song, as played by Sétif-born Alberto Staïffi, was a phenomenal success, to the point that even FLN fighters adopted it unanimously. Hence an unfortunate misunderstanding that would trick colonial authorities into believing Mustafa was an ode to the glory of Fellaghas. In 1961, Cheikh Raymond Leyris, a Jewish grand master of ma’luf (one of Algeria’s three Andalusian waves) who was Enrico Macias’ professor, was killed in Constantine, making him the first victim of a terrorist wave that would catch up with Algeria at the dawn of the 1990s by attacking anything that thought, wrote or sang.
Mohamed Mazouni, born January 4, 1940 in Blida – “The City of Roses” both known for its beautiful ‘Blueberry Square’ (saht ettout) in the middle of which a majestic bandstand took center stage, and its brothels – had just turned twenty. He was rather handsome and his memory dragged around a lot of catchy refrains by Rabah Driassa and Abderrahmane Aziz, also natives of Blida, or by ‘asri (modern music) masters Bentir or Lamari. He would make good use of all these influences and many others stemming from the Algerian heritage.
The young Mohamed was certainly aware of his vocal limits, as he used to underline them: “I had a small voice, I came to terms with it!“. But it didn’t lack charm nor authenticity, and it was to improve with age. He began his singing career in those years, chosing bedoui as a style (a Saharan genre popularized among others by the great Khelifi Ahmed).
July 1962. The last French soldiers were preparing their pack. A jubilant crowd was proclaiming its joy of an independent Algeria. Remembering the impact of popular music to galvanize the “working classes”, the new authorities in office rewarded the former members of the FLN troupe by appointing them at the head of national orchestras. In widespread euphoria, the government encouraged odes to the recovered independence, and refrains to the glory of “restored dignity” sprung from everywhere. Abderrahmane Aziz, a star of ‘asri (Algiers’ yé-yé) was a favorite with Mabrouk Alik (“Congratulations, Mohamed / Algeria came back to you“); Blaoui Houari, a precursor of Raï music, praised the courage of Zabana the hero; Kamel Hamadi recalled in Kabyle the experience of Amirouche the chahid (martyr), and even the venerable Remitti had her own song for the Children of Algeria. All this under the benevolent eye (and ear) of the regime led by Ahmed Ben Bella, the herald of the single party and vigilant guardian of the “Arab-Islamic values” established as a code of conduct. Singers were praised the Egyptian model, as well as Andalusian art intended for a nascent petty bourgeoisie and decreed a “national classic”; some did not hesitate to sell out. These Khobzists – an Algerian humorous term mocking those who put “putting-food-on-the-table” reasons forward to justify their allegiance to the system – were to monopolize all programs and stages, while on the fringes, popular music settled for animating wedding or circumcision celebrations. Its absence in the media further strengthened its regionalization: each genre (chaâbi, chaouï, Kabyle, Oranian…) stayed confined within its local boundaries, and its “national representatives” were those whose tunes didn’t bother anyone. The first criticisms would emanate from France, where many Algerian artists went to tackle other styles. During the Kabyle-expression time slot on Radio Paris, Slimane Azem – once accused of “collaboration” – sang, evoking animals, the first political lines denouncing the dictatorship and preconceived thinking prevailing in his country. The reaction was swift: under pressure from the Algerian government, the Kabyle minute was cancelled. Even in Algeria, Ahmed Baghdadi aka Saber, an idol for fans of Raï music (still called “Oranian folklore”), was imprisoned for denouncing the bureaucracy of El Khedma (work).
For his part, Mazouni was to be noticed through a very committed song: Rebtouh Fel Mechnak (“They tied him to the guillotine”). But above all, the general public discovered him through a performance at the Ibn Khaldoun Theater (formerly Pierre Bordes Theater, in the heart of Algiers), broadcast by the Algerian Radio Broadcasting, later renamed ENTV. This would enable him to integrate the Algerian National Theater’s artistic troupe. Then, to pay tribute to independence, he sang “Farewell France, Hello Algeria”.
June 19, 1965: Boumediene’s coup only made matters worse. Algeria adopted a Soviet-style profile where everything was planned, even music. Associations devoted to Arab-Andalusian music proliferated and some sycophantic music movement emerged, in charge of spreading the message about “fundamental options”. Not so far from the real-fake lyricism epitomized by Djamel Amrani, the poet who evoked a “woman as beautiful as a self-managed farm”. The power glorified itself through cultural weeks abroad or official events, summoning troubadours rallied to its cause. On the other hand, popular music kept surviving through wedding, banquets and 45s recorded for private companies, undergoing censorship and increased surveillance from the military.
As for Mazouni, he followed his path, recording a few popular tunes, but he also was in the mood for traveling beyond the Mediterranean: “In 1969 I left Algeria to settle in France. I wanted to get a change of air, to discover new artistic worlds“. He, then, had no idea that he was about to become an idolized star within the immigrant community.
France. During the 1950s and 1960s, when parents were hugging the walls, almost apologizing for existing, a few Maghrebi artists assumed Western names to hide their origins. This was the case of Laïd Hamani, an Algerian from Kabylia, better known as Victor Leed, a rocker from the Golf Drouot’s heyday, or of Moroccan Berber Abdelghafour Mociane, the self-proclaimed “Vigon”, a hack of a r&b voice. Others, far more numerous, made careers in the shadow of cafes run by their compatriots, performing on makeshift stages: a few chairs around a table with two or three microphones on it, with terrible feedback occasionally interfering. Their names were Ahmed Wahby or Dahmane El Harrachi. Between the Bastille, Nation, Saint-Michel, Belleville and Barbès districts, an exclusively communitarian, generally male audience previously informed by a few words written on a slate, came to applaud the announced singers. It happened on Friday and Saturday nights, plus on extra Sunday afternoons.
In a nostalgia-clouded atmosphere heated by draft beers, customers – from this isolated population, a part of the French people nevertheless – hung on the words of these musicians who resembled them so much. Like many of them, they worked hard all week, impatiently waiting for the weekend to get intoxicated with some tunes from the village. Sometimes, they spent Saturday afternoons at movie theaters such as the Delta or the Louxor, with extra mini-concerts during intermissions, dreaming, eyes open, to the sound of Abdel Halim Hafez’ voice whispering melancholic songs or Indian laments made in Bombay on full screen. And the radio or records were also there for people to be touched to the rhythm of Oum Kalsoum’s songs, and scopitones as well to watch one’s favorite star’s videos again and again.
Dumbfounded, Mohamed received this atmosphere of culture of exile and much more in the face. Fully immersed in it, he soaked up the songs of Dahmane El Harrachi (the creator of Ya Rayah), Slimane Azem, Akli Yahiaten or Cheikh El Hasnaoui, but also those from the crazy years of twist and rock’n’roll as embodied by Johnny Hallyday, Les Chaussettes Noires or Les Chats Sauvages, not to mention Elvis Presley and the triumphant beginnings of Anglo-Saxon pop music. Between 1970 and 1990, he had a series of hits such bearing such titles as “Miniskirt”, “Darling Lady”, “20 years in France”, “Faded Blue”, Clichy, Daag Dagui, “Comrade”, “Tell me it’s not true” or “I’m the Chaoui”, some kind of unifying anthem for all regions of Algeria, as he explained: “I sang for people who, like me, experienced exile. I was and have always remained very attached to my country, Algeria. To me, it’s not about people from Constantine, Oran or Algiers, it’s just about Algerians. I sing in classical or dialectal Arabic as much as in French and Kabyle”.
Mazouni, a dandy shattered by his century and always all spruced up who barely performed on stage, had greatly benefited from the impact of scopitones, the ancestors of music videos – those image and sound machines inevitably found in many bars held by immigrants. His strength lay in Arabic lyrics all his compatriots could understand, and catchy melodies accompanied by violin, goblet drum, qanun, tar (a small tambourine with jingles), lute, and sometimes electric guitar on yé-yé compositions. Like a politician, Mazouni drew on all themes knowing that he would nail it each time. This earned him the nickname “Polaroid singer” – let’s add “kaleidoscope” to it. Both a conformist (his lectures on infidelity or mixed-race marriage) and disturbing singer (his lyrics about the agitation upon seeing a mini-skirt or being on the make in high school…), Mohamed Mazouni crossed the 1960s and 1970s with his dark humor and unifying mix of local styles. Besides his trivial topics, he also denounced racism and the appalling condition of immigrant workers. However, his way of telling of high school girls, cars and pleasure places earned him the favors of France’s young migrant zazous.
But by casting his net too wide, he made a mistake in 1991, during the interactive Gulf War, supporting Saddam Hussein’s position through his provocative title Zadam Ya Saddam (“Go Saddam”). He was banned from residing in France for five years, only returning in 2013 for a concert at the Arab World Institute where he appeared dressed as the Bedouin of his beginnings.
At the end of the 1990s, the very wide distribution of Michèle Collery and Anaïs Prosaïc’s documentary on Arabic and Berber scopitones (first on Canal+, then in many theaters with debates following about singing exile), highlighted Mazouni’s important role, giving new impetus to his career. Rachid Taha, who covered Ecoute-moi camarade, Zebda’s Mouss and Hakim with Adieu la France, Bonjour l’Algérie, as well as the Orchestre National de Barbès who played Tu n’es plus comme avant (Les roses), also contributed to the recognition of Mazouni by a new generation.
Living in Algeria, Mohamed Mazouni did not stop singing and even had a few local hits, always driven by a “wide targeting” ambition. This compilation, the first one dedicated to him, includes all of his never-reissued “hits” with, as a bonus, unobtainable songs such as L’amour Maâk, Bleu Délavé or Daag Dagui.

Official LP reissue of 'Peace & Harmony' by Nigerian funk royalty Harry Mosco, Originally released in 1979. Incl the big tracks ''Sexy Dancer'', ''Step On'' and ''Do It Together'' Isle Of Jura digs deep going back 40 years for the reissue of Harry's 1979 album which is something of an undiscovered gem that touches upon Disco, Funk, Boogie, Soul and Dub. Harry passed away in 2012 and we’ve worked closely with his son on the reissue.
Harry Mosco is best known as the founder of legendary 1970s Nigerian Afro-Funk band The Funkees. Originating as an Army band after the Nigerian Civil War they lead the wave of upbeat music produced by young artists in Nigeria in response to the darkness of the recently concluded civil conflict. Following a notable hit single ‘Akula Owu Onyeara’ the band split in 1977 and Harry pursued a solo career.
‘Peace & Harmony’ was Harry’s third LP continuing the rich vein of form found in previous albums ‘Country Boy’ and ‘Funkees’ (For You Specially). He was a visionary who wrote, arranged and produced each song on the LP assisted by Mark Lusari on engineering duties (P.I.L, Jah Wobble & Prince I), whose Reggae and Dub influence can be felt on title track ‘Peace & Harmony’ and ‘Peaceful Dub’. The LP contains two certified floorfillers of Studio 54 era Disco Funk in the shape of ‘Sexy Dancer’ & ‘Step On’ and two slow jams, the soulful ballad ‘She’s Gone’ and horn lead album closer ‘Do It Together’. Mr Funkees was printed on the cover to help record buyers make the connection between Mosco and his former band

Acid Jazz presents one of Afrobeat’s most mysterious and rare records by a former schoolteacher, boxer, Jacques Chirac's bodyguard, and Beninese musical visionary: Ferry Djimmy - Rhythm Revolution.

The album was originally recorded in the mid-1970s in support of Benin’s revolutionary leader Mathieu Kérékou. Rumour has it that less than two hundred copies survived a late-‘70s fire.

Ferry Djimmy’s life story is one of the most extraordinary you’re ever likely to hear. Born in 1939, Jean Maurille Ogoudjobi (the nickname Ferry comes from ‘ferry djimmy’ being short for ‘please forgive me’ in Yoruba as he was a very smart but unruly kid), Ferry had 43 siblings. By the late 1950s, he started a career as a schoolteacher. As a tall and imposing young man, Ferry also started a parallel career as a boxer. When he wasn’t teaching or fighting, he also caught up with the emerging night scene in the city of Cotonou, where local folklore, Congolese rumba, highlife and Cuban adaptations were favoured by local audiences as well as some blues, jazz and rhythm’n’blues.

Dritter Teil und Abschluss der »Afrokraut«-Trilogie des Hamburger Musikers und Songwriters als Vinyl-LP auf Legere Recordings.

Als Bassist glänzt David Nesselhauf bei hochkarätigen Hamburger Groove-Institutionen wie Diazpora, den Hamburg Spinners oder The Angels Of Libra. Mit »Afrokraut« (2016) und »Afrokraut II - The Lowbrow Manifesto« (2018) widmete sich das Multitalent dem kurzen Abschnitt der Musikgeschichte in dem Krautrock-Acts wie Can die funkigen Afrobetas entdeckten. Experimentierfreudigkeit war entscheidend für den immersiven Produktionsprozess dieses Albums, das sowohl Elemente aus Funk, Afrobeat und Krautrock als auch spacige Drones, frühe Elektronische Musik und Field Recordings umfasst. Inspiriert von dem unvollendeten Manuskript »History Deletes Itself« des verstorbenen Science-Fiction-Autors Joseph Sabiers beschloss Nesselhauf, eine Art B-Movie-Soundtrack zur Originalhandlung zu produzieren. Diese zwölf Tracks des Studioprojekts strotzen vor ungezähmter Entdeckungslust, kreativer Energie und herausragender Qualität und Originalität!

Lokalophon is the newly established sub-label of Philophon, which is designed to release local specialities from potentially all around the world. The first 7" is by Ghanaian Frafra-Gospel singer Chris De Wise Shepherd.

Born in Bolgatanga, he moved as a young man from the rural north of Ghana to its coastal capital Accra. Consequentially, his style became more urban. That you can clearly hear on his 2012 release Nera Wo'o Soke, which sounds in some ways as if Grandmaster Flash himself were operating the production knobs. Atune Anya'alima on the other hand is pure Frafra-Gospel as it is usually performed in Northern Ghana.

Acid Jazz Records continue their exclusive licensing agreement with Albarika Store, the legendary record label that defined the sound of Benin and influenced the entire region of West Africa and beyond.

Soundway Records reissues Free Youth’s long sought-after 1985 single “We Can Move”, their only release - fully restored, remastered and available for the first time on digital and 12” vinyl. “We Can Move” is the first known iteration of Ghanaian hip hop, emerging at the dawn of ‘hip-life’ (hip hop meets highlife).
Free Youth comprised three main members: Terry “Sir Robot” Bright, Lenny “Nii Addy” Dimple, and Abednego “King Abed” Ayim Bright. In the early 80s they began performing in clubs and parties across Accra, with friends and other dancers occasionally joining them on stage – including Reggie Rockstone, who later went on to find commercial success.
In 1985, the band were approached by a producer and invited to record at a local studio. Without having written down any music, Terry, Lenny and Abed sang the parts and beatboxed the rhythms to the session musicians prior to recording. Out of this session came “We Can Move”, a blend of hip-hop and Afro-funk with a proto disco-boogie beat, punchy trumpet riffs and melodic rapping.
Included in the Soundway reissue is an exclusive instrumental cover version of “We Can Move” from Welsh ensemble Drymbago. This replaces the original B side track “Freedom Video Centre”, which was an advertising jingle for a business associated with their former producer. Soundway Records is pleased to deliver Free Youth the release that they were after, 34 years later.

Hailing from Minneapolis, MN, Black Market Brass is a 10-piece group performing their own brand of originally composed Afrobeat/Afrofunk music, as well as completing authentic renditions of the classic 1970's West African sound. Taking their cues from the godfathers, the band draws on complex polyrhythmic percussion, driving bass lines, dizzying guitar interplay, rolling keyboards, and room-commanding brass. The result? An eclectic blend of cool deep funk and driving Afrobeat grooves that will lure you to the dance floor and never let you leave.

"War Room" and "The Thick" represent the group's continuing evolving sound. Tracked with Leroi Conroy at Colemine Records HQ in Loveland, OH, these tunes simply burn!

Isle Of Jura go back to 1976 to resurrect ‘Anambra’, the jewel in the crown of Dub, Soul & Funk outfit Ozo. ‘Anambra’ is something of a classic, a unique song that’s slow, ritualistic and spiritual, mixing African & Nyabinghi drumming with a Buddhist Sanskrit mantra ‘Om Mani Padme Hum’. An alternate version ‘Anambra River’ appears for the first time on the same 12”.

Tumblack is a special reissue of a fantastic and rare percussive Afro-Disco from 1978. This perfectly blends elements of African styles, afrobeat, funk and disco tracks. Contains the famous funk disco track "Caraiba" much used by funky-afro DJs.

Highlights:The Only Album Ever Recorded By Peruvian Sax Player Nilo Espinosa And His Group, Also Known As The Nil's Jazz Ensemble, Remains Not Only As One Of The Truly Grails For Collectors Of Latin-American Jazz But Also As An Outstanding Piece Of Music On Its Own.After Years Unavailable, Our Reissue Presents This 1976 Album In Its Full Glory, With Remastered Sound And Original Artwork, Including The Rare Promo Poster.Pressed On 180g Vinyl.Description:Once Resettled In Lima, Peru, In 1974 After Spending Some Time Playing In A Jazz Quintet In Berlin, Sax Player Nilo Espinosa Would Put Together The Nil's Jazz Ensemble, A Top-Notch Array Of Local Talent Consisting Of Pancho Sáenz (Trumpet), Miguel 'Chino' Figueroa (Keyboards), Oscar Stagnaro (Bass), Andrés Silva (Drums And Percussion), Jorge Montero, Richie Zellon And Ramón Stagnaro (Guitars).They Recorded One Single Album That Remains Not Only As One Of The Truly Grails For Collectors Of Latin-American Jazz But Also As An Outstanding Piece Of Music On Its Own. The Opening Song "Reflexiones" Is A Mind-Blowing Jazz-Funk Number Right Up There With The Very Best Of The Genre, Written By Black Sugar's Former Member Miguel 'Chino' Figueroa, Featuring A Fantastic Work On Trumpet And Rhodes.The Album Also Includes A Cover Of The Rare Groove Classic "Hard Work" That Could Have Easily Sneaked Into The Funkiest Side Of The Prestige Catalogue.Following The Success Of This Album, Espinosa Would Expand His Band To A Big Band Format And Tour Local Theatres And Clubs In Lima, Where Jazz Music Was A Popular Genre At The Time.Our Reissue Presents This 1976 Album In Its Full Glory, Pressed On 180g Vinyl With Remastered Sound And Original Artwork, Including The Rare Promo Poster.

Four Flies is delighted to present a super juicy treat for all 7-inch vinyl devotees: the first 45 ever to feature tracks from Giuliano Sorgini’s masterpiece ZOO Folle. To ensure maximum DJing pleasure, we’ve picked two of the grooviest tracks from the original recording session, never before released in this format. The psychedelic funk number “Mad Town”, on Side A, drags you in with its infectious drum breaks and the rapid yet hypnotic flute of Nino Rapicavoli. “Ultima Caccia”, on Side B, is sheer afro-tribal bliss, with drums by Sorgini himself and massive funky percussion by legendary session player Enzo Restuccia. If you want an ace up your DJing sleeve, look no further

Soul Jazz Records’ new Nigeria Soul Fever is their first release to explore the vast wealth of Nigerian music recorded in the 1970s. The new album comes with introductory sleeve-notes by Bill Brewster (author of Last Night A DJ Saved My Life).
Packed-full with Afro-Funk, Disco and Boogie all from Nigeria, this triple album/double CD set brings together a stunning collection of diverse West African sounds. Whilst a small handful of the artists featured (Joni Haastrup, Tee Mac, Christy Essien) have seen the light of day outside Africa, this is essentially a collection of killer tracks by an array of artists completely unknown outside of Nigeria. Artists such as Don Bruce & The Angels, Akin Richards & The Executives, Angela Starr, Jimmy Sherry & The Music Agents. It’s no surprise that these records are extremely rare and expensive to buy individually so this album will save you going broke trying to find them.
These recordings were made at a time when Nigeria’s trade restrictions banned imported records. Whilst new musical trends (such as American soul, funk, disco etc) entered and influenced the country, the local music scene remained just that – local. Consequently, these recordings remain practically unknown to anyone outside of the country.

2x 12" 140g pressing of this big tune from Cameroonian outfit, ESA, originally released on an LP in 1986. Pressed in full 45RPM glory with extra versions from the original tapes. TIP!

For the first time ‘A Muto’ by Esa is given an official reissue. Not only does this mark a first as a stand along single, but the reissue contains previously unheard Instrumental, Dub and Keys Versions alongside an Acapella. Licensed from writer and producer Martin Socko Moukoko, for 40 years Martin kept the original 2” master tape in mint condition so for the reissue the tape was baked and stems transferred by Archive Audio in Paris and the tracks given new mixdowns by Martin himself alongside Jerome Caron. The resulting mixes stay true the original whilst making the most of today’s digital studio technology, cut at 45rpm and truly representing the gold standard of quality when it comes to a reissue.

‘A Muto’ was originally released in 1986 on the ‘Atesa’ album and became an instant hit in Cameroon and Africa. The lyrics tell the story of a woman who abandons her husband, complaining of being alone as the keeper of the house. ‘A Muto’ is a blend of Makossa, a style originating in the French Cameroons characterised by prominent brass arrangements, and Ambasse Bey, traditional fast paced dance music from Cameroon. Martin assembled a team of session musicians in Paris in 1985 and programmed the drums and synths himself on the Linn Drum and Yamaha DX 7.

The Esa project ground to a halt in 1989 following a legal dispute which saw Martin win a court case in France regaining the rights to his music. In the intervening years Martin has continued to work in music studying jazz for 4 years at the American school of modern music in Paris and providing background music for the corporate world.

Artwork by Bradley Pinkerton.

Newborn french label Raoi Records is proud to release for the first time a remastered and fully licensed compilation of the two sought after records of Joe Sembene: Heart of Africa & Weur Di Dane/Le P’tit Quinquin. Side A is "Heart of Africa" with the songs "Gorelle" & "Autrefois", two timeless and unparalleled afro/electronic tracks. The first song on Side B is "Weur Di Dane", a perfect blend of afro and boogie vibes. The voice of Joe's wife, Josy Sene, stands out all along the track, a pure bliss! This is followed by a cover of a traditional song from the north of France called "Le P'tit Quinquin", but Joe gives it a strong reggae twist in the vain of Serge Gainsbourg’s "Aux Armes Et Cætera"! However, it had little success at the time... After recording these two remarkable and hard-to-find 7 inches at September Records in Lille (Fr), Joe suddenly disappeared… Who knows where Joe Sembene is right now?

Recalling Ennio Morricone spaghetti westerns, the electrified belly dance music of Omar Khorshid, and '90s bedroom psychedelia at once, the music of Branko Mataja is from its own epoch. Snatched from the streets of Belgrade as a teenager,Mataja spent World War 2 in a German work camp, escaping the insanity of postwar Europe to settle in North Hollywoodto live out the American Dream to its fullest. Crafting handmade music on homemade guitars throughout the 1970s,Mataja taught himself to play in order to pay homage to his ancestral home of Yugoslavia, a place he would never returnto except through these guitar meditations.

Continuing Four Flies' dedication to delving into lesser-explored periods of Italian music, Africamore takes us on a captivating journey into the intersection of Afro-funk and the Italian soundscape during the six years between 1973 and 1978 - a time when disco was looming on the horizon and the nightclub market was rapidly expanding.

Before reaching Italian shores, the infectious sound originating from African and Afro-Caribbean roots traversed both the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, landing on New York dancefloors, where DJ Dave Mancuso discovered "Soul Makossa" by Manu Dibango. In 1973, from Mancuso's Loft parties, the song's hypnotic groove spread to the rest of the globe, including in Italy, where it sparked a wave of imitations and variations.

Tribal influences thus found their way into Italian soul-funk and early-disco productions released between 1973 and 1978 – from psychedelic-tinged tunes like Jean Paul & Angelique's "Africa Sound"to the Afrobeat-inspired club banger "Kumbayero" by composer/producer Albert Verrecchia (aka Weyman Corporation); and from groundbreaking Afro-cosmic songs like Chrisma's "Amore", co-written by Vangelis and featuring the rhythms of Ghanaian-British Afro-rock band Osibisa, to mind-blowing floor-fillers like Beryl Cunningham's "Why O", a re-write of Nat King Cole's "Calypso Blues" arranged by Paolo Ormi, with percussion breaks that sound pretty much like what would later become known as techno.

Combining feel-good vibes with driving rhythms, world-style percussion, and even synths, all these productions pushed the boundaries of dance music at a time when disco had not yet taken over. In doing so, they sowed many of the seeds of the later Italian cosmic scene and its unique mixture of African elements, disco-funk and electronic music.

This was a brief but nuanced period in Italian music history, one that deserves to be rediscovered, with love.

By the mid-1970s, the Southern African nation known as the Republic of Zambia had fallen on hard times. Though the country’s first president Kenneth Kaunda had thrown off the yoke of British colonialism, the new federation found itself under his self-imposed, autocratic rule. Conflict loomed on all sides of this landlocked nation. Kaunda protected Zambia from war, but his country descended into isolation and poverty. This is the environment in which the ’70s rock revolution that has come to be known as Zamrock flourished. Fuzz guitars were commonplace, as were driving rhythms as influenced by James Brown’s funk as Jimi Hendrix’s rock predominated. Musical themes, mainly sung in the country’s constitutional language, English, were often bleak. In present day Zambia, Zamrock markers were few. Only a small number of the original Zamrock godfathers that remained in the country survived through the late ’90s. Aids decimated this country, and uncontrollable inflation forced the Zambian rockers that could afford to flee into something resembling exile. This was not a likely scene to survive - but it did. Welcome To Zamrock!, presented in two volumes, is an overview of its most beloved ensembles, and a trace of its arc from its ascension, to its fall, to its resurgence.

“I’m an afrobeat drummer but Pat Thomas is highlife. That is what he does so well.” -Tony Allen

Coming in June, we are proud to announce the brand new studio album by one of Ghana’s all-time great vocalists, “The Golden Voice Of Africa”, Pat Thomas, in conjunction with the Kwashibu Area Band led by multi-instumentalist Kwame Yeboah (Cat Stevens, Patrice) and saxophonist Ben Abarbanel-Wolff (Ebo Taylor, Poets of Rhythm).

A regular collaborator with Ebo Taylor, Thomas was mainstay of the ‘70s and ‘80s Ghanaian highlife, afrobeat and afro-pop scenes, hitting big with the Ghana Cocoa Board-sponsored Sweet Beans band. Thomas’ new album marks over 50 years making music and reunites him with old friends: Ebo Taylor provides horn arrangements, Tony Allen contributes drums to several tracks, Osei Tutu (Hedzolleh Sounds) plays a memorable trumpet solo and prolific 1970s bassist Ralph Karikari (The Noble Kings) also features. Younger generation stars appearing include bassist Emmanuel Ofori, percussionist “Sunday” Owusu and Pat Thomas’ daughter Nanaaya, an acclaimed vocalist in her own right.

Analog Africa are proud to present the 27th release of their Analog Africa Series. A fantastic, hypnotic and funky compilation from the Dur-Dur Band of Somalia that comes out on a Triple LP.

When Analog Africa founder Samy Ben Redjeb arrived in Mogadishu in November of 2016, he was informed by his host that he would have to be accompanied at all times by an armed escort while in the country. The next morning, a neighbour and former security guard put on a military uniform, borrowed an AK-47 from somewhere and escorted him to Via Roma, an historical street in the heart of Hamar-Weyne, the city’s oldest district. Although previous Analog Africa releases have demonstrated a willingness to go more than the extra air-mile to track down the stories behind the music, the trip to Mogadishu was a musical journey of a different kind. It was the culmination of an odyssey that had started many years earlier.

In 2007 John Beadle, a Milwaukee-based musicologist and owner of the much loved Likembe blog, uploaded a cassette he had been handed twenty years earlier by a Somalian student. The post was titled ‘Mystery Somali Funk’ and it was, in Samy’s own words, “some of the deepest funk ever recorded.” The cassette seemed to credit these dense, sonorous tunes to the legendary Iftin Band. But initial contact with Iftin’s lead singer suggested that the ‘mystery funk’ may have actually been the work of their chief rival, Dur-Dur, a young band from the 80s.

Back then, Mogadishu had been a very different place. On the bustling Via Roma, people from all corners of society would gather at the Bar Novecento and Cafe Cappucino, watch movies at the famous Supercinema, and eat at the numerous pasta hang-outs or the traditional restaurants that served Bariis Maraq, a somali Beef Stew mixed with delicious spiced rice. The same street was also home to Iftinphone and Shankarphone, two of the city’s best known music shop. Located opposite each other, they were the centre of Somalia’s burgeoning cassette distribution network. Both shops, run by members of the legendary Iftin Band, would become first-hand witnesses to the meteoric rise of Dur- Dur, a rise that climaxed in April of 1987 with the release of Volume 2, their second album.

The first single ‘Diinleya’ had taken Somalian airwaves by storm in a way rarely seen before or since. The next single, ‘Dab,’ had an even greater impact, and the two hits had turned them into the hottest band in town. In addition to their main gig as house band at the legendary Jubba Hotel, Dur-Dur had also been asked to perform the music for the play “Jascyl Laba Ruux Mid Ha Too Rido” (May one of us fall in love) at Mogadishu’s national theatre. The play was so successful that the management had been forced to extend the run by a month, throwing the theatre’s already packed schedule into complete disarray, and each night, as soon as the play had finished, Dur-Dur had to pack their instruments into a Volkswagen T1 tour bus that would shuttle them across town in time for their hotel performance.

The secrets to Dur-Dur’s rapid success is inextricably linked to the vision of Isse Dahir, founder and keyboard player of the band. Isse´s plan was to locate some of the most forward-thinking musicians of Mogadishu´s buzzing scene and lure them into Dur-Dur. Ujeeri, the band’s mercurial bass player was recruited from Somali Jazz and drummer extraordinaire Handal previously played in Bakaka Band. These two formed the backbone of Dur-Dur and would become one of Somalia’s most extraordinary rhythm sections.

Isse also added his two younger brothers to the line-up: Abukar Dahir Qassin was brought in to play lead guitar, and Ahmed Dahir Qassin was hired as a permanent sound engineer, a first in Somalia and one of the reasons that Dur-Dur became known as the best-sounding band in the country.

On their first two albums, Volume 1 and Volume 2, three different singers traded lead-vocal duties back and forth. Shimaali, formerly of Bakaka Band, handled the Daantho songs, a Somalian rhythm from the northern part of the country that bears a striking resemblance to reggae, Sahra Dawo, a young female singer, had been recruited from Somalia’s national orchestra, the Waaberi Band. Their third singer, the legendary Baastow, whose nickname came from the italian word ‘pasta’ due to the spaghetti-like shape of his body, had also been a vocalist with the Waaberi Band, and had been brought into Dur-Dur due to his deep knowledge of traditional Somali music, particularly Saar, a type of music intended to summon the spirits during religious rituals. These traditional elements of Dur-Dur’s repertoire sometimes put them at odds with the manager of the Jubba Hotel who once told Baastow “I am not going to risk having Italian tourists possessed by Somali spirits. Stick to disco and reggae.”

Yet from the very beginning, Dur-Dur’s doctrine was the fusion of traditional Somali music with whatever rhythms would make people dance: Funk, Reggae, Soul, Disco and New Wave were mixed effortlessly with Banaadiri beats, Daantho and spiritual Saar music. The concoction was explosive and when they stormed the Mogadishu music scene in 1986 with their very first hit single, ‘Yabaal,’ featuring vocals from Sahra Dawo, it was clear that a new meteorite had crash-landed in Somalia. As Abdulahi Ahmed, author of Somali Folk Dances explains: “Yabaal is a traditional song, but the way it was played and recorded was like nothing else we had heard before, it was new to us.” ‘Yabaal’ was one of the songs that resurfaced on the Likembe blog, and it became the symbolic starting point of this project.

It initially seemed that Dur-Dur’s music had only been preserved as a series of murky tape dubs and YouTube videos, but after Samy arrived in Mogadishu he eventually got to the heart of Mogadishu’s tape-copying network – an analogue forerunner of the internet file-sharing that helped to keep the flame of this music alive through the darkest days of Somalia’s civil strife – and ended up finding some of the band’s fabled master tapes, long thought to have disappeared.

This triple LP / double CD reissue of the band’s first two albums – the first installment in a three-part series dedicated to Dur-Dur Band – represents the first fruit of Analog Africa’s long labours to bring this extraordinary music to the wider world. Remastered from the best available audio sources, these songs have never sounded better. Some thirty years after they first made such a splash in the Mogadishu scene, they have been freed from the wobble and tape-hiss of second and third generation cassette dubs, to reveal a glorious mix of polychromatic organs, nightclub-ready rhythms and hauntingly soulful vocals.

In addition to two previously unreleased tracks, the music is accompanied by extensive liner notes, featuring interviews with original band members, documenting a forgotten chapter of Somalia’s cultural history. Before the upheaval in the 1990s that turned Somalia into a war-zone, Mogadishu, the white pearl of the Indian Ocean, had been one of the jewels of eastern Africa, a modern paradise of culture and commerce. In the music of the Dur-Dur band – now widely available outside of Somalia – we can still catch a fleeting glimpse of that golden age.
Listen & Enjoy!

Aweh is back to present Shukuma, the highly anticipated collaboration between label head Esa and South African Kwaito legend Kamazu from Soweto. This record, created between 2020 and 2022, is a testament to the power of musical synergy and South African cultural aweh-ness.

As part of Shukuma, the title track and the EP also lies the future Kwaito classic, Muntu. This dance floor banger not only showcases the creative prowess of Esa and Kamazu but also features a collaboration with Dirty Bungalow, adding a unique touch to the overall EP. Muntu has already been featured in the esteemed podcast series, The Invisible Hand.

To further enhance the experience, Esa has collaborated with talented artists Floating B_strd and Sanoy to create an exquisite art piece that perfectly captures the essence of Shukuma. The final artwork will be revealed on the official release day, adding an element of surprise and anticipation. This is a Kwaai Collab you don't want to miss.

More dancefloor dynamite from Benin's almighty Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou Dahomey, this time in the form of 'Gbeti Ma Djro'. Confusingly described on the centre label of the 1971 original issue as ’Soul’, this is in fact a prime slice of Afro-psych-funk complete with wails and grunts over fierce drums and picked guitar. 'Angelina II’ is a much warmer affair that rides a shuffling mid-tempo pachanga groove. Both tracks were transferred, restored and mastered from the original 1/4 inch tape.

Vinyl with a couple of very small bumps, otherwise NM.

Sealed copy!

Born on November 25, 1912, Asmahan, whose real name was Amal al-Atrash, was a Syrian singer and actress of the first half of the 20th century. Modern and free, she was the sister of Farid al-Atrash; and perhaps the only singer able to compete with the famous Oum Kalsoum. Her private and public life is worthy of a Hollywood movie and was particularly eventful during the Second World War, where she played spy for Germany, France and Great Britain. She died in 1944, at the age of 32, in a mysterious car accident, leaving only a few recordings. This record features her most popular titles, to be rediscovered by the music enthusiasts of today.

"A Bangin South African bubblegum tune, with house club mix on the flip!"

The start of the 90's brought the final wave of House music that would cement it as the future of South Africa’s music scene. In the years leading up to the new decade, Disco had already naturally evolved into the very early stages of what would become South Africa’s signature House sound, with Instrumentals and Dub Mixes earning themselves spots on the Pantsula records leading the charts of the late 80s, it would be an influx of remixes appearing on import singles that would make the “House mix” the premier b side sound for those bubblegum artists trying to stay relevant in the 90’s. The House remixes coming from Chicago and New York dominated the airwaves at first, eventually gaining genre status by the later part of the decade as International House or just International for short. At the time this would have been synonymous with House music everywhere else in the world. After a years of these tracks getting remixed by the touch of the local talent, International no longer fit the description of what the music was and Kwaito became the sound of the streets. In the studio, Kwaito was the sound of the next generation of producers that was coming up under the Disco legends of 80s. In total it took less than 5 years total for the sound to evolve. It would be in this transition period between International and Kwaito, with the help of the new wave of studio talent, that we find the ingredients that gave birth to a short lived yet unique African House sound. After a long career with the soul group The Savers, Morgan Kwele cut two solo records under his own name in the late 80’s. Without much success and after being dropped by EMI, Morgan was picked up by Peter Snyman and independent Sounds of Soweto. At the time it was becoming a premier label for the emerging house sounds. M’du and Joe Nina would both end up working at Snyman’s studio, and it would be their collaborating project LA Beat that would launch their respective careers further. For his new album Morgan would team up with legendary producer and long time friend from the 70s Koloi Lebona. They would work together once more and record what most likely became Morgan’s final Album. The title track Vakonwana became the lead single, with the original bubblegum version on the A side for the old timers and the Club Version on the flip for the late nite parties.

We Are Busy Bodies exploration of Vis-A-Vis catalogue continues with a remastered reissue of their album Di Wo Ho Ni. The band continued to be the backing band of choice of some of Ghana's biggest and most famous musicians all while recording their own albums. The album has been remastered by Noah Mintz at Lacquer Channel, with art restoration completed by Steve Lewin.

Soul Jazz Records new ‘Apala: Apala Groups in Nigeria 1964-69’ is the first ever collection of Apala music ever to be released outside of Nigeria.
The album focusses on a wide selection of recordings made in Nigeria in the 1960s, a time when Apala music was at the height of its popularity. Apala is a deeply rhythmical, hypnotic and powerful musical style that combines the striking nasal-style vocals and traditions of Islamic music, the Agidigbo (thumb piano), and the equally powerful drumming and percussion rhythms and techniques of the Yoruba of Nigeria.
The most significant figure in Apala music is undoubtedly Haruna Ishola who features throughout this album. Ishola holds an almost mythological status in his role as populariser of Apala music in Nigeria. Ishola’s singing was believed to be so powerful that, without proper restraint, it could kill the recipient of his music.
Apala is a popular music that also functioned as a form of cultural resistance – Apala music involved no western instrumentation and is sung in the Yoruba language, its aesthetic an implicit cultural rejection of the British Empire’s colonial rule over Nigeria which lasted from 1901 until independence in 1960.
Apala music was popular and widely accepted in Nigeria due to its philosophical and profound lyrical content alongside the complex rhythmic patterns of this heavily percussive style, which highlighted many of the percussion instruments of south-west Nigeria.
Apala is one of a number of popular urban styles of music that came out of Nigeria in the 20th century and sits alongside the more well-known (in the West) styles of Fuji, Highlife, Juju and Afrobeat. Of these modern forms Apala remains perhaps the most ‘roots’ style (sometimes described as ‘neo-traditional’) due to the authenticity of its sound. It has similar Islamic roots to other neo-traditional styles of Nigeria – including Waka and Sakara – examples of which are also included on this collection contextualising the music of Apala.
These recordings were originally made and released locally by Decca and EMI Records as well as a variety of independent labels in Nigeria and have never been released outside of the country before. Soul Jazz Records are releasing this album as a deluxe double gatefold vinyl (+ download code), CD, slipcase and booklet, both containing full text and photography.

Anthology of Zamrock musician Mike Nyoni’s funky, psych-rock and folkloric 1970s recordings Zambian guitarist and singer/songwriter Mike Nyoni’s music is Zamrock only because he came of age during the countryís rock revolution. He preferred wah-wah to fuzz guitar, James Brown to Jimi Hendrix. His 70s recordings - often politically charged, and ranging from despondent to exuberant - are amongst the funkiest on the African continent. He was also one of the only Zamrock musicians to see his music contemporaneously issued in Europe. This anthology collates works from his three 70s LPs - his first, with the Born Free band, and his two solo albums Kawalala and I Can’t Understand You - and presents a singular Zambian musician on par with celebrated artists Rikki Ililonga, Keith Mlevhu and Paul Ngozi.

Tears are in the eyes of Xabiib Sharaabi, nicknamed the Somali King of Pop when he entered the stage of Berlin"s HKW. It is a mix of nostalghia, pain and joy. Like many Somalis he had been deprived overnight of both glamour and friends, the war in his homeland had sent him into exile. The glamorous discos and beachfront stages Mogadishu had once been famous for, had disappeared as the city was bombed to the ground. The King of Somali pop found himself stranded in Sweden, many others like the members of Dur-Dur Band Int. ended up in London which until today has the largest Somali diaspora in Europe. In the last decade many early recordings of Somalia"s funk, soul and disco era have been reissued. This record is not a reissue. The Berlin Session - it is the first studio album of its kind since the golden days of Mogadishu came to a halt three decades ago. It is the living proof that Somali music is hot, funky and (!) well alive. The record captures a historic reunion which took place in 2019 in Germany"s capital Berlin. London-based Dur-Dur Band Int. an eight-piece powerhouse of Somali livemusic unites with three legendary Somali singers: Xabiib Sharaabi, Faduumina Hilowle and Cabdinur Allaale. Fueled with a restored sense of pride, the freshly reunited band installs itself in a Neukölln studio for three days.

Mindblowing Afro-Soul music from Ivory Coast served up by Deke Tom Dollard, an obscure artist who only recorded two albums in 1979 and 1981 but who created an original funky fusion with Bété langage. A Selection of four amazing tracks recorded in Abidjan on two different records label called War Records and As Records.
The music here is a mixture of Funk with heavy basslines, traditional percussions, funky guitar riffs, nice horns section and lyrics in Beté. The song “Demonde” is inspired by harmonies of the famous “Dance to the Drummer Beat” by Herman Kelly.
Those two rare records were found by Afrobrazilero (aka Djamel Hammadi) and never appeared on the vinyl market. It's almost impossible to have infos about this singer and composer neither the musicians involved in the recording sessions. Most of the traces of the recording session were lost by the labels we licensed the tracks with.
Unique, pressed on a deluxe vinyl, remastered by The Carvery, this very Funky album is a must have for all the Afro Funk lovers!