Shoki Shoki

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Femi Kuti is probably best known for being the son of Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, who invented the sound of Afrobeat. An explosive and politicized hybrid of African high life, James Brown riffs and Nigerian drum rhythms, Afrobeat was born when Fela toured the US back in the ‘60s. Femi, as oldest son, has always been expected to take on his father’s role as the leading exponent of Afrobeat as well as take on the role of leading protest against the Nigerian military regimes. But Femi has always been pursuing his own sound, much to his dad's chagrin when he was alive. And 'Shoki Shoki', could be said to take Afrobeat to a new level. At least it packages the sound in a way which will bring it to a wider audience. For one the songs are way shorter than Fela's often 20 minute epics and for another 'Beng Beng Beng' and 'Truth Don Die' have already been remixed by the likes of Ashley Beedle and Masters At Work ensuring their translations for the dancefloors of the US and Europe. However, there is nothing on this album that will startle or create much of a music furore. Sometimes sounding like a Nigerian style James Taylor Quartet (not something I mean as an insult, just trying to express Shoki Shoki's often bouncy sound), it is more people like Tony Allan, Fela's original drummer, who're pushing the Afrobeat envelope into the next millennium, especially with actions like roping in French hip hop producer Doctor L on his latest album 'Black Voices'. But, as with the whole of Afrobeat, the often 'jolly' sounds are often wrapped in political lyrics - about human suffering, about the state of Nigeria, about the struggle of the Black man and of real life problems of poverty and violence. And it is difficult not to get swept up by the songs. Take the energetic momentum Femi's voice alongside the irresistible build of the brass stabs in 'Truth Don Die', the slow liquid reggae flavoured melancholia of 'What Will Tomorrow Bring', or his taut sax solo on 'Look Around' which seems to hark back to old-skool '70s Afrobeat, or the superbly balanced 'Sorry Sorry' which weaves a tweaking trumpet solo along delicate piano riffs, with Femi's authoritative voice later taking charge. Wherever you go in this album the flavour is rich, the smells pungent and the emotion full-on. You get the impression, however, that live, Femi and his band would exude a rawer, more exhilerating aura.