Friday, 11 November 2022

Lady Aicha & Pisco Crane's Original Fulu Miziki Band of Kinshasa - N'Djila wa Mudjimu

First published in Songlines Magazine issue 183, December 2022.

Lady Aicha & Pisco Crane's Original Fulu Miziki Band of Kinshasa
N'Djila wa Mudjimu
Nyege Nyege Tapes (37 mins)

This is the DIY eco-punk essence, Congo-style. Everything about Fulu Miziki has been repurposed from material rescued from the junkpile, from their instruments to their extravagant costumes that look like uniquely Congolese cyberpunk body armour with surreal masks. Almost all the instruments are percussion, alongside a one or two self-invented string-things and rough synths. Melodies emerge from the natural pitches of drums, bells, cymbals and improvised noise-makers colliding in expert polyrhythm, with the bass coming from horns and thumped tubes. Shouted lyrics get the heart-rate up to the frenetic pace required by the beats, while improvised electronics and subtle production dirty everything up through layers of distortion that only add to the hyper energy.

Fulu Miziki’s music has echoes from all the great Congolese groups over the past few decades – Konono No. 1, Staff Benda Bilili, Jupiter & Okwess International – but within that, they bring something new, an anarchic, slightly menacing but ultimately very fun cacophony that sounds futuristic while remaining squarely on the ground.

Since recording this album, Fulu Miziki have splintered into two separate groups – hence the mouthful of a band name on this release – but N'Djila wa Mudjimu still serves as a snapshot of the group’s original line-up, repertoire and ethos.

Ami Dang - The Living World’s Demands

First published in Songlines Magazine issue 183, December 2022.

Ami Dang
The Living World’s Demands
Phantom Limb (43 mins)

As a first-generation Punjabi-American from Baltimore, Ami Dang uses sitar, voice and electronics to carve a complex identity from sound. She deals with weighty topics through her music and lyrics; on her third album these include abuse, trauma, the fight for abortion rights, suicidal ideation, the pandemic, religion and capitalism, as well as brighter concepts of meditation, joy and peace.

The music itself is made of light dance pop and deeper ambient electronica, with inflections of Hindustani classical in the shape of sitar cascades and English and Punjabi-language singing enlightened with ornamental gamakas. While Dang’s lyrics deal with the pertinent themes of today, her music often harks to the past, whether it’s to 70s psychedelic rock or 2000s Indian-flavour teen pop: sometimes it comes across as classy and retro, sometimes as cheesy and dated. The album’s most interesting and intriguing moments come when the ambient side is allowed to flow most freely, such as in the tracks ‘Bālnā’, ‘Circuit’ and ‘Become’.

It feels as if Dang’s aim with this album is to be at once poppy, experimental and personally political – it’s a tricky combination, and some of those intersections end up a little jarring, with the generally light tone belying its important messages.