True roots music and especially appreciated by those who ran with Sun Ra and Art Ensemble of Chicago and drank at their river. Always in the tradition but ahead of their times. Perhaps that is why they sometime refer to these great musicians as practitioners of spiritual jazz, a term that may miss their essence. Its's heartening to see music like this made in this day and age. Highly recommended.
Unlike many modern recording studios, Max Weissenfeldt’s Philophon studio is a fully analogue setup. There were neither DAWs nor soft synths in Max Weissenfeldt’s Philophon studio. This old school setup was a reminder of the studios where The Pyramids had recorded their trilogy of seventies albums. For The Pyramids, Max Weissenfeldt’s Philophon studio was the perfect place to record We Be All Africans.
Having recorded the seven songs that became We Be All Africans, The Pyramids decided to release a single later in 2015. By then, The Pyramids were billed as Idris Ackamoor and The Pyramids. The song chosen for their new forty-five was Rhapsody In Berlin. It gave Idris Ackamoor and The Pyramids’ fans a tantalising taste of We Be All Africans. With their fans licking their lips at an album of Afro- jazz-funk, Idris Ackamoor and The Pyramids began the search for a record company to release their fifth album.
Eventually, Strut Records agreed to release We Be All Africans. The release date was scheduled for 27th May 2016, when Idris Ackamoor and The Pyramids’ first album in five years hits the shops. We Be All Africans is a welcome return to form from a band that was founded in 1972.
Opening We Be All Africans, is the title track. An urgently plucked bass joins drums and a myriad of exotic, bustling, chiming, ringing percussion, in driving the arrangement along. They create an irresistibly catchy arrangement that stays true to The Pyramids’ original sound. Partly, that is the decision to using analogue equipment; and partly the type of instruments deployed. Soon, though, a chant of: “We Be All Africans” enters. Before long, female vocalists deliver the lead vocal, and harmonies respond to their call. By then, the percussion is panned hard left, while the vocal dominated the rest of the arrangement. That’s until the vocals drop out, and a bass ushers in braying, scorching horns are added. Just as one thinks the track can’t get any better, it does. In full, flight Idris Ackamoor and The Pyramids unleash a glorious mixture of percussion, horns and rhythm section. The vocals add the finishing touch to what’s akin to a truly irresistible call to dance.
There’s a thoughtful, mesmeric sound to Epiphany, as the arrangement gradually unfolds, and meanders along. A melancholy, jazz-tinged horn plays, sounding as if it belongs in a late night jazz club in Dakar, Brazzaville or Kinshasa. That’s until the tempo rises, and the sultry sound becomes celebratory. Percussion and the rhythm section combine, as the track takes on a much more contemporary Nu-Jazz sound. Sometimes, the arrangement almost explodes, and dances along before briefly teasing the listener into thinking that a journey into jazz is about to ensue. That doesn’t happen. However, there’s an almost downtempo influences to this genre-melting track that veers between celebratory, smooth, sultry, ruminative and mellow. In doing so, it proves that Idris Ackamoor and The Pyramids are still relevant.
Bursts of horn punctuate the arrangement to Silent Days, before an array of percussive delights unite with Bajka’s vocal. It’s rueful, and tinged with sadness and regret. Just below her vocal, the backing vocals sit. They augment her reflective vocal, while drums crash and clamber across the arrangement. Meanwhile, the subtle, sultry sound of the alto saxophone briefly replaces the vocal, and takes centre-stage. This happens several times, before the horns enjoy their moment in the sun. They bobs and weaves across the arrangement, adding to the wistful, heart wrenching sound of what’s a beautiful track.
Over the last four decades, Idris Ackamoor & the Pyramids have gained worldwide renown for their vibrant, cosmic blend of jazz, funk and world elements, three highly collectible private-press 1970s albums, a breathtaking live show culminating with a reunion album (2012's Otherworldly) and a lifetime achievement award for Ackamoor from Gilles Peterson.
Recorded in Berlin at Max Weissenfeldt's Philophon studios, We Be All Africans sustains the collective's jubilant vibe with a euphonious message of universal brotherhood and harmony. The title track fuses the interstellar excursions of Sun Ra and the joyous insurgency of Fela Kuti into a contagious dance-floor filler that doesn't let up for more than six minutes. The groove gets even hotter with the polyrhythmic Afro-funk of "Rhapsody in Berlin."
More cerebral is the appropriately titled "Epiphany," a futuristic excursion with transcendent saxophone from Ackamoor and ethereal synthesizer lines swathed over serpentine percussion, and "Clarion Call," a hymnal in which the band explore interstellar space that would make Coltrane proud. With the exception of the slight percussion workout "Traponga," We Be All Africans is another exceptional sonic adventure in Idris Ackamoor's growing legacy. (Strut)
It’s strange that Ackamoor's name is largely unfamiliar in Western jazz – he studied under the famous jazz pianist Cecil Taylor – though he left America to play across Africa, inspired by Ghana and Ghanian music: Fully respected and admired in Tamale, he played with the Tamalian king's own musicians. In America though, his name would not be as familiar as Taylor's or other musicians who played in bigger jazz bands where a reputation could more easily emerge as a result.
We Be All Africans is an interesting and loaded title. Like Sun Ra, Ackamoor buoys a serious message atop his playful melodies: Humanity originated in Africa, and so Ackamoor believes that this shared heritage unifies humanity; he thinks that divisions between race would be detrimental to the survival of humanity as a whole. His music then may be presented, in an ideal world, as something that can be respectfully appreciated by all. That is, as a joyous, cultural boundary crossing flip-side to racial aggressions and violence.
This album does not dully encapsulate what is familiar to previous jazz and Afropop records and instead is modern in the sense that it looks to more recent music and instrumentation for points of reference. 'Epiphany' unfolds with a slow, creeping electric bass and cool synthesiser phasing, counterbalanced with sharp horn stabs and clattering drum fills before returning back to the gentle introductory sway. Synthesiser might have been found on Herbie Hancock records or Sun Ra, but the phaser sound used here sounds more modern, despite having been recorded in Max Weissenfeldt's analogue studio in Berlin.
If you’re looking for explicit Sun Ra references, you'll find them on 'Silent Days'. This third track features cosmic imagery familiar to the self-proclaimed solar explorer's own records. Even the chanting has the same relaxed lull that Sun Ra's Arkestra sometimes break into on his tracks. But 'Silent Days' is a gentle homage, and doesn't serve to copy for copying’s own sake. And jazz has had a solid history of paying reference to previous musicians, usually mimicking their hooks or motifs: The comical, breathy yelps on 'Rhapsody In Berlin' are like those on Herbie Hancock's 'Watermelon Man', but this helps to accent and maintain the pulse of a track euphoric on the surface, but not without chaos or aggression. It should be aimless sounding, but the cacophony works because of the way in which it is subtly built up: A violin makes a brief solo appearance, jazzy in the sense that the playing is very experimental in terms of timbre. The bow judders and screeches across the strings as if to damage them. When it gets to the stage where 'Rhapsody In Berlin' sounds overly busy, the band quietens somewhat – the trick to creating balance.
Comments