Wednesday, 25 January 2023

Assagai "Zimbabwe" 1971***

Assagai (the word means "spear" in Zulu language) were formed in England, but are rightly considered an African group: most of them came from South Africa, with the addition of two Nigerians (bassist Charles Ononogbo and guitarist Fred Coker) and guest percussionist/vocalist Theresa "Terri" Quaye, a British-born Ghanaian. Nevertheless, for the recording of this album, they had some unlikely collaborators in all-too-white prog rockers Jade Warrior, with whom they shared a manager and record label: Vertigo was Philips/Phonogram's prog rock subsidiary. Assagai weren't just the label's only African band, they were their only black artists - unless you count Black Sabbath. The album cover by Roger Dean, who was famous for his work for the likes of Yes and Uriah Heep, was beautiful, but combined with their choice of label could be misleading as to the record's musical content. Zimbabwe is Assagai's second album in the space of one year, as well as their last. The album title is not a reference to the same-named country, simply because it didn't exist at the time. Until 1980, in its place there existed a white-dominated racist state called Rhodesia. Nevertheless, there used to be a thriving medieval kingdom called Zimbabwe in the area, to which black South Africans felt some kinship. This album wasn't recorded under the best circumstances, as Coker had just left the band to join their more successful Afro-rock rivals, Osibisa. Assagai subsequently dissolved; they had a brief moment in the spotlight when Afro Rock seemed like it could be the next big thing, what with Osibisa's success and Cream's Ginger Baker trying to promote African music to rock audiences. But Assagai band members were not interest in pursuing a career in rock anyway, they were jazz musicians who loved to jam and to play music for dancing. This is best exemplified on the songs bookending Zimbabwe: "Baranzibar" and "Kinzambi" are two terrific jazz funk instrumentals that remind me of Santana, although only the latter features a (short) guitar solo. With the exception of one ballad, the album is saturated by constant polyrhythmic drumming: drums, congas, and various percussions played very fast. Next to drummer Louis Moholo, the real stars here are the horn players: primarily alto saxophonist Dudu Pukwana, but also tenor saxophonist Bizo Mngqikana and Mongezi Feza on trumpet and flute. The flute gives a proggier shade to Afro-funk instrumental "Sanga", as well as "Wanga" and "Come Along". The latter two numbers are still very rhythmic but sweeter, with melodic singing. Throughout the album, one can hardly discern any English words; whether the rest is some African language or just wordless vocalizing I couldn't say. Many members are credited as vocalists, which means that, next to Terri, the guys also sing in a pretty high register. "La La" is an introspective ballad that sounds like the work of a different band, maybe a West Coast psychedelic one. "Dalani" is a funky instrumental with nice piano, and "Bayeza" another Afro-Latin-sounding piece. The music here doesn't belong to any single genre: there's the exotic element of the congas, jazzy sax solos, proggy flute, funky bass and horns - as for the vocals, I don't know what to make of them: on "La La" and -partly- on "Come Along" you're reminded of 60's psychedelic folk, then, just when you think you recognize the influence of South African choirs, you realize it sounds more like Native American chanting. No wonder The Guardian presented this as part of a series called The 101 strangest records on Spotify. It is strange, but also compelling - and entertaining, especially the more straight-ahead jazz-funk instrumentals. The album was reissued on vinyl in 1975 under a different title (AfroRock), and more recently in CD and limited LP editions.

**** for Baranzibar, La La, Dalani, Come Along, Kinzambi

*** for Wanga, Bayeza, Sanga

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