Without premeditation, I think, Ndaya exposes for us something truly deep about all our tropical lives: Life, which was at once too long and long enough for all its troubles (and for the designs it might allow), was mostly a life bathed in melody in all our singing, even in the hardest of times -- and through all the horrors.
There would be enough (drum)beat to dance to, for sure, and necessary harmony and verve -- and even noise. But it was melody which kept us going. It was the main flavor. Here's how Ndaya abbreviates it all for us -- in the context of 'her own' "troubles of milieu".
LISTEN/READ: The Audio/Lyrics of Mpongo Love's "Ndaya"
Watch: The video of Mpongo Love's "Bakake"
In Nairobi's Eastlands where I grew up, folks did love Mpongo Love, dearly. It was the melody in her voice. It was the love and poesy embedded in her very name. It was all the 'surround' chatter.
Showing posts with label Ndaya. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ndaya. Show all posts
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Thursday, August 04, 2016
MUSIC (Classic): Kapwepwe by M'Pongo Love
At the end of November 2015, I published a post on one of M'Pongo Love's most memorable songs, Ndaya. And I inserted an image/link there to another of her great creations -- Kapwepwe. On July 17 this year, I tweeted two Youtube links to the respective songs, just to share my appreciation of them.
Since that November post, I have continued to feel a sense of guilt; a sense of disproportionate attention to two wonderful things. I felt that I simply had not paid Kapwepwe the attention that it deserved as a moving musical feat -- and feast of the spirit. It's a stand-out light in its own right, radiant in its own glow. A Time bender.
In several ways, Ndaya and Kapwepwe represent, nay invoke, different kinds of engagement. The one is more sonorous, more introspective; the other less pensive and more upbeat. Sunnier. More of a call, with a rousing beat (by Orch. Les Ya Toupas), to the ever receptive dance floor -- a floor so hopelessly intertwined with the days of our youth. Yes, more about the moment than about connections.
Both songs are veritable classics. They are intrinsic to baby-boomer remembrances in and of Eastern and Central Sub-Sahara. They are an enduring part of our fond past.
Alas, for all that flourish, for me the recorded song, Kapwepwe, ends abruptly at 2:35 minutes -- just as we're getting comfortable in our flight of fancy -- though it runs, inexplicably, for another 2:47. If there is any unifying theme in the two halves, it is that they both start with the very same beat, which, to the inattentive ear, is practically over before it even registers in the ear. Still, one is left with the sense that the tune -- that some kind of tune -- lingers somewhere in there in the second half. So that there is a hint of unity in that palpable difference.
Kapwepwe, thus, is, truly, a tale of two musical territories with a jagged borderland one wishes one didn't have to cross. Territories which, like DRC and Zambia, have staked claims to this meme, with all the intrigue worthy of Byzantium. Still...
Here's Kapwepwe:
READ: Simon Mwansa Kapwepwe.
Blog Post updated August 10, 2016
Since that November post, I have continued to feel a sense of guilt; a sense of disproportionate attention to two wonderful things. I felt that I simply had not paid Kapwepwe the attention that it deserved as a moving musical feat -- and feast of the spirit. It's a stand-out light in its own right, radiant in its own glow. A Time bender.
In several ways, Ndaya and Kapwepwe represent, nay invoke, different kinds of engagement. The one is more sonorous, more introspective; the other less pensive and more upbeat. Sunnier. More of a call, with a rousing beat (by Orch. Les Ya Toupas), to the ever receptive dance floor -- a floor so hopelessly intertwined with the days of our youth. Yes, more about the moment than about connections.
Both songs are veritable classics. They are intrinsic to baby-boomer remembrances in and of Eastern and Central Sub-Sahara. They are an enduring part of our fond past.
Alas, for all that flourish, for me the recorded song, Kapwepwe, ends abruptly at 2:35 minutes -- just as we're getting comfortable in our flight of fancy -- though it runs, inexplicably, for another 2:47. If there is any unifying theme in the two halves, it is that they both start with the very same beat, which, to the inattentive ear, is practically over before it even registers in the ear. Still, one is left with the sense that the tune -- that some kind of tune -- lingers somewhere in there in the second half. So that there is a hint of unity in that palpable difference.
Kapwepwe, thus, is, truly, a tale of two musical territories with a jagged borderland one wishes one didn't have to cross. Territories which, like DRC and Zambia, have staked claims to this meme, with all the intrigue worthy of Byzantium. Still...
Here's Kapwepwe:
READ: Simon Mwansa Kapwepwe.
Blog Post updated August 10, 2016
Monday, November 30, 2015
MUSIC (Classic): M'Pongo Love's "Ndaya"
When did anyone on social media last, or ever, hear M'Pongo Love sing, folks? To all those who've never heard her unforgettable voice, here's a hint of what used to go down -- suavely, all so often -- in a bygone time. With a little swag, perhaps. A golden time before (today's) time. A form of life, before life.
It's not just the vocals that are lovely. As always with Congolese music, it's the blend and the flourish of instrumentation, too. The saxophone and the guitar, in particular.
Here, in Ndaya (somewhat) reloaded, M'Pongo Love sings earnestly, with an innocent's voice, She sings in passionate, undaunted tones of her one love; and of the victory (sure to come), against all public and private odds, of her all-consuming marriage. I hear more yearning, than certain Love. It all sounds (certainly now) a little like optimistic personal testimony, but she is, was (always will be), a socially-constructed diva; a songstress widely admired -- and loved for being loved. Loved, even, for being Love itself/herself. The greater the admiration of her found, perhaps, the farther away one was from Kinshasa, or Kisangani, or wherever else in the Congo she might happen (or be supposed) to be, moment by musical moment. That's how the magical, magnetic, pull of her sort works -- and worked with so much effect in those days of her popular reign, in the era of the radio.
The cities farthest away from her mystified abode -- African cities outside of the Congo (where Lingala, music's language itself, reigned with a blend of near absolutism and dazing, dazzling 'benevolence') -- were the places she had her most ardent admirers, I suppose. And the most intense of these were perhaps the anti-clockwork cities of Nairobi and Dar-Es-Salaam, to the east. All the guys I know that knew 'er voice loved 'er. But she didn't reign alone, being a member of a royal 'clan' of artistes who found themselves, somewhere there beyond a zillion trees of the great rain-forest, inescapably at the heart of something; of a genre. The very heart of what Conrad mistakenly called Darkness.
Ndaya is a lovely proclamation of everlasting love. Deeply felt love. Love felt despite, and even because of, a vexing tide of doubt and gossip and malevolence. A love -- enigmatic, precarious love -- dependent so entirely on The (very) One loved! We can toast to that -- mystery.
PS: YouTube has considerable chatter about this song. Read it and be informed. YouTube views of this song currently stand at 131,830.
PPS: Here, as a 'bonus' offering, is Kapwepwe, another great song by M'Pongo Love:
It's not just the vocals that are lovely. As always with Congolese music, it's the blend and the flourish of instrumentation, too. The saxophone and the guitar, in particular.
Here, in Ndaya (somewhat) reloaded, M'Pongo Love sings earnestly, with an innocent's voice, She sings in passionate, undaunted tones of her one love; and of the victory (sure to come), against all public and private odds, of her all-consuming marriage. I hear more yearning, than certain Love. It all sounds (certainly now) a little like optimistic personal testimony, but she is, was (always will be), a socially-constructed diva; a songstress widely admired -- and loved for being loved. Loved, even, for being Love itself/herself. The greater the admiration of her found, perhaps, the farther away one was from Kinshasa, or Kisangani, or wherever else in the Congo she might happen (or be supposed) to be, moment by musical moment. That's how the magical, magnetic, pull of her sort works -- and worked with so much effect in those days of her popular reign, in the era of the radio.
The cities farthest away from her mystified abode -- African cities outside of the Congo (where Lingala, music's language itself, reigned with a blend of near absolutism and dazing, dazzling 'benevolence') -- were the places she had her most ardent admirers, I suppose. And the most intense of these were perhaps the anti-clockwork cities of Nairobi and Dar-Es-Salaam, to the east. All the guys I know that knew 'er voice loved 'er. But she didn't reign alone, being a member of a royal 'clan' of artistes who found themselves, somewhere there beyond a zillion trees of the great rain-forest, inescapably at the heart of something; of a genre. The very heart of what Conrad mistakenly called Darkness.
Ndaya is a lovely proclamation of everlasting love. Deeply felt love. Love felt despite, and even because of, a vexing tide of doubt and gossip and malevolence. A love -- enigmatic, precarious love -- dependent so entirely on The (very) One loved! We can toast to that -- mystery.
PS: YouTube has considerable chatter about this song. Read it and be informed. YouTube views of this song currently stand at 131,830.
PPS: Here, as a 'bonus' offering, is Kapwepwe, another great song by M'Pongo Love:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)