"Soul Makossa" by Cameroonian saxophone superstar Manu Dibango is probably one of my favorite songs of all time. It's perhaps somewhat of an obscure song to claim as a favorite--an Afrobeat tune from the very early 1970s that somehow managed to make the charts in the U.S. and to become noted as one of the first disco tunes. Even though I was just a wee nipper, I do recall hearing the song on the radio circa 1972 or 1973. And I remember being captivated by it. In some ways, it was a song about as alien to me and my culture as was possible at the time.
Growing up, our house was always full of music. My Dad's Maybelle Carter and the Carter Family records, Jim Reeves, and the Grand Ol' Opry on TV. My sister's Beatles records, from which there was no escape. My one brother's sensitive singer-songwriter types (Emmett Rhodes anyone?), and my other brother's Southern rock ("Jim Dandy" by Black Oak Arkansas and Ruby Starr, among many others), which we all enjoyed, the late great era of Muscle Shoals boogie bands.
And then there was me, the gay one, with his yen for soul, disco, and Europop. On long road trips in the '70s, I must have been the only white kid south of the Mason-Dixon line bopping to Barry White, the Ohio Players, and the Miracles.
So, in other ways, "Soul Makossa" wasn't that alien to me. I'd already learned to appreciate the groove, the exquisite joy of rhythm, dance, and funk. Lyrics were important to the era as well--might I suggest listening to John Legend and the Roots' Wake Up, an homage to '70s black consciousness pop?--but a tune like "Soul Makossa" doesn't need to be understood word for word. The sound of Manu Dibango's voice, the musicality of the African language in which he sings and chants, and that smooth, laidback chorus of back-up singers intoning "Hey Makossa," all combine wonderfully to make a stellar pop record which, to me, transcends time, language, genre, and culture.
In short, if you fail to be moved--literally or figuratively--by "Soul Makossa," I do begin to wonder whether you are indeed a sentient being.
I don't think the original is what disco became known for, what it evolved into, all 4-on-the-floor beat, swooning strings, and frothy vocals. Instead, "Soul Makossa" is where disco started and might have gone, if it had stayed more underground, more alternative, and less cokespoons-and-cheap glamour. The song, with its transcendental pleasure, its worldview, and its unmistakeable sensuality was what disco was all about anyway, but got hopelessly lost along the way.
So flash forward to 2011 and Mr. Dibango has rerecorded "Soul Makossa," this time with up-and-coming UK pop artist Wayne Beckford.
Now I'm highly wary of remakes. Whether in film or music or what have you, most of the copies are light and faded in comparison to their originals.
However, with "Soul Makossa 2.0," I think Dibango and Beckford get it right. They don't try a note-for-note remake of an unremake-able song. Instead, it's more of an homage to the original with updates for the present day. And yet those updates--in rhythm, in lyrics, in singing style--complement the original, rather than overwhelm it or alter it beyond all recognition.
Is it as good as the original? Well, I guess I would say it is what it is, a version 2.0, so it's not a remake of the original, but rather a reinterpretation. I think musically it's still a very exciting, intriguing song. Lyrically, well, it's now intelligible to me in English and while the lyrics aren't embarrassing or insipid, let's just say that maybe something is lost in translation--that something being the more mystical, transcendental quality offered by *not* understanding the original language.
Still, worth a listen and worth owning.
With some skill, you can find this new version on iTunes U.S. Look for the album Festival International - Nuits d'Afrique Compilation 2011 (25ième édition).
Oddly, I could swear that a month or so ago, I saw the Manu Dibango album, Past - Present - Futur, from which this song is culled, slated for release on iTunes. But zut alors, now it's gone.
* * *
And speaking of things you can't find on iTunes, here's one by Wayne Beckford that I particularly enjoy, musically and visually.
My goodness, how can you not love a funny but rather cringe-inducing line like "This girl is making a big explosion/like the Taliban." I now want a trio or quartet of Beckfordettes (the Montaguettes? the OnFireMajorettes?) to follow me wherever I go, serving as a R&B chorus to my Greek lifestyle (i.e., too much debt, not enough austerity).
Ha. Seventies soul for a Naughties + Ten reality.
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