Os Kiezos ‘Semba Popular’ (Ngola, 1972)

A tremendous vehicle for lead guitarist Mário ‘Marito’ Arcanjo – a student of legendary Duia, of Os Gingas fame, and note-by-note copyist of Franco in his formative years – “Semba Popular” is one of those unforgettable dance tracks from Os Kiezos. The band – formed on the Marçal neighborhood when Kituxe (Domingos António Miguel da Silva) enlisted Tininho, Adolfo Coelho (the dikanza great who died in 2002) and Marito – was baptized in 1965 after a particularly blazing open-air party in which the stage action was so frantic that an enormous cloud of dust arose beneath the feet of the dancers, making everyone, in jest, cry out for brooms (iezos, in Kimbundu).

Kiezos had their first big show in Luanda’s Ngola Cine in 1969 and debuted on the studio a year later. Vate Costa (1949-2010) and Fausto Lemos joined the ranks and gave voice to huge hits, such as “Za boba”, “Ché-ché mãe”, “Muá Pangu”, “Ku Xingue Ngamba”, “Milhorró” or “Ngana Zambi”, some of a satirical nature, making the band a target for the Portuguese political police just before the independence. [see below another Kiezos post].

“Semba Popular” (issued by Ngola circa 1972 with reference number LD 330) was the b-side for “Lamento de Mingo” – a song dedicated to Mingo, Jovens do Prenda’s and sometime Kiezo’s guitar player, who had just died on a car wreck – and had the following credits:

Solo guitar: Marito
Second guitar: Boto Trindade
Rhythm guitar: Gino
Bass: Zeca
Reco-Reco (or güiro): Adolfo Coelho
Bongos: Juventino
Drums: Julinho
Voice (for the a-side): Antoninho

África Ritmos ‘Merengue Café’ (Rebita, 1972-1973)

(I wish I had a less prosaic excuse for such a long absence but the matter of fact is: I was locked out of my own blog! I simply forgot under which email account – and its respective password – I was operating so, three months later, here’s an update, hoping that I can redeem myself. In other words, here’s a crowd-pleaser that, while I’m at it, I would love to dedicate to any Central and South-American readers out there).

Evidence of the band’s tremendous burst of creative energy around 1972 and 1973, Rebita issued no less than three África Ritmos 45s in a row: “Semba da Ilha/Kaveia” as R-1080, “Amor/Merengue Café” as R-1081 and “Kilombe/Coio” as R-1082!

África Ritmos was formed in 1968 by percussionist and singer Kinito (featured on a previous post!) and the great bongo player Floriano. Soon after, a host of singers, drummers and horn, bass and guitar players was turning the band into a living essay on syncretism and interculturality, offering modern takes on traditional kikongo, kimbundu or umbundo rhythms.

Nazaré, Chico Coio, Pai Adão, Zeca Torres, Brando, Constantino, Nito, Gino, Amadeu, Pitra, Zacarias, Corais were just some of those who lined up to establish what was essentially a powerful and highly appreciated dance band on the pre-independence days (winners on competitions with other bands, such as Ngoma Jazz and Cabinda Ritmos).

‘Merengue Café’ features a sugary guitar solo of Constantino!

Conjunto Merengue ‘Rufo da Liberdade’ (CDA/Merengue, 1975)

I hope you don’t mind coming back to Conjunto Merengue (in what is actually a three-peat, as the band was also featured in Avôzinho’s post), but I couldn’t think of a better way to welcome 2013 than with one of the all-time tightest Angolan ensembles celebrating Angola’s independence with “Rufo da Liberdade” (a lovely, smooth and joyous instrumental which can be roughly translated as “Freedom’s Drum Roll”). What an appropriate treat for the New Year!

As you know, sitting in with dozens of singers as the house band for CDA’s Merengue label, Conjunto Merengue was indeed a staple of Angolan modern popular music and, led by Carlos Vieira Dias, never faltered on its purpose to excel. In 1975 alone the group was heard on such landmark albums as David Zé’s “Mutudi ua Ufolo”, Teta Lando’s “Independência” and Carlos Lamartine’s “Angola Ano I”.

“Rufo da Liberdade” (issued by Merengue with ref# MPA-4033-CD, with ‘Nica’ as a b-side) displays a tremendous line-up: Carlitos arranging and on bass guitar, Zeca Tirilene on rhythm guitar, Gregório Mulato on the bongo drum, Joãozinho Morgado on tumba, Vate Costa on dikanza (bigger than the Brazilian reco-reco or the Latin-American güiro but with similar effects), Nando on trumpet (channeling his inner Mangione) and, last but not least, Zé Keno on solo guitar.

Zé Keno is the author of both of this single’s tracks and had a significant impact on the band since leaving Os Jovens do Prenda. Born circa 1950 on the Malange province, Keno was of the most distinct guitar players on a scene saturated with talented up and coming musicians. His phrasing is masterful, with hints of jazzy inflections and those wonderful motivic improvisations probably heard on Dr. Nico’s African Fiesta records but also learned first-hand from the Gingas’ Duia, one of Angola’s greatest soloists.

Living on the Prenda neighborhood since moving to Luanda, Keno absorbed the richness of the local music clubs and witnessed the maturation of new urban styles. He tried his luck under the José Pequeno and Kedy monikers before joining Os Sembas in 1968. He had stints with Águias Reais and África Show, but his imprint was mostly left on Os Jovens do Prenda, alongside Gama, Didi, Augusto, Chico Montenegro, Kangongo and singer Tony do Fumo. Owner of a unique tuning system (self-taught), Keno created unexpected chord changes and dabbled with a pretty impressive harmonic concept. He joined the Merengues in 1973 and has become, since then, a living legend, to this day performing as a special guest on some of Jovens do Prenda’s shows.

[This post is dedicated to Muzikifan’s Alastair Johnston, telling it like it is on his invaluable site since 2004, author of the authoritative “A Discography of Docteur Nico” and, truly, keeping a valuable resource online for our reading and listening pleasure]

Os Gambuzinos ‘Este Bairro’ (RCA Victor, 1972)

A long hissing start for a slow burning track (and, again, a crappy edit job, sorry guys) courtesy of the rockers Gambuzinos. It may seem an odd choice for this blog but it does address a growing concern: to accurately represent Luanda’s cultural ecology before independence. We all know that it wasn’t just dancehall semba bands but it is a buyer’s market and never in a million years will vinyl dealers come up with ‘hey, this one’s for the broken hearted: here’s a depressing as hell mid-tempo track by an Angolan folk-rock band’. Well, then again, that approach did work for similar Zambian bands such as WITCH (and you may also be reminded of Ghana’s Psychedelic Aliens listening to this, but I’d bet that the greatest inspiration for it was Brazilian Roberto Carlos’s ballads).

Anyway, Os Gambuzinos were, indeed, a distinct rock band (eBay traders will throw in psych for good measure) from the early 70s, better known for assimilating influences from the usual suspects (Jovem Guarda bands, Animals, Stones, Faces, Cream) and reconfiguring it within Angola’s particular musical landscape. And we might argue that, like África Show, it is the melodic use of alto sax (by Nelo Duarte, a great musician that would die on a car wreck in 75) and organ (although you can’t really tell from this track) that set it apart from many other bands. And I believe that the singer here was Pedrito (that you’ll know from this very blog).

“Este Bairro” (“This Neighborhood”) is as plaintive as they come and it goes like this:
“I’ll stop coming by
I’ll stop dating here
this neighborhood only brings me sadness, anguish and loneliness
darling, if you never see me again please don’t cry”

And on that sad little alto sax solo you really get an overwhelming sense of loss. “Este Bairro” was released as a b-side by RCA Victor in 1972 (ref# 30.002). The a-side was “Kalumba” (included on one of Buda’s Angola CDs and on the first Cazumbi African garage LP compilation on NoSmoke).

Águias Reais ‘Show da Ilha’ (Rebita, 1973)

Long overdue update here. So I hope you enjoy this wonderful instrumental semba track by Águias Reais!

The first members of Águias Reais (The Golden Eagles) met while learning arts and crafts at Casa Pia de Luanda (a public boarding school for underprivileged children ran by the colonial powers). António Nunes da Costa (clarinet), Marçal Nicácio Gomes (voice and dikanza), Manuel António (alto sax), Ângelo Quental (drums) and brothers António Manuel Gonçalves (aka Massangano, guitar) and Benedito Manuel Gonçalves (aka Nito, bass) were part of Angola’s burgeoning popular music scene of the sixties, alongside bands such as África Show, Negoleiros do Ritmo, Jovens do Prenda, Kiezos, Ekos, Astros, África Ritmos, Gambuzinos, Anangola, Ngoma Jazz, Anjos, Afro Sound Star, Ases do Prenda, Kinzas, Bongos, etc.

But simply put it’s just impossible to trace the many Águias Reais line-up changes. Legendary guitarist Baião and bassist Manuelito had short stints with the band, as did Avôzinho, but it was the addition of crooner Carlos Lamartine (and his brother, Gregório Mulato) that had the most profound effect on its sound and commercial appeal. In the late sixties and early seventies Zeca Pilhas Secas (guitar), Manuel Claudino (bass), Gaby Pireza (guitar), Zeca Jacó (dikanza) and Julinho (percussion) were the supporting cast. The often mentioned proto-kuduro track “Bazooka” was recorded around 1971.

But Lamartine left and in 1973 single “Show da Ilha”/“Mariana” (issued by Fadiang’s Rebita imprint with ref# 1101) was recorded with Constantino and Gino on the guitars and singer Calabeto on lead-vocals. It was around then that Águias Reais became singers David Zé’s and Urbano de Castro’s backing band. Some of Águias Reais’s members were recently involved with Conjunto Angola 70, touring selected European cities.

Tony Von ‘Nuala ni Lumbi’ (Rebita, early 70s)

Well, this one has to be short and sweet. And, truth be told, there’s not a lot I can tell you, as information on Tony Von is scarcer than hen’s teeth. I know he was still around on the last decade, performing on revivals and nostalgia-infused shows, and some online reviews bill him as one of the great Angolan singers of the past, but other than that, nothing.

I can’t even get a discography in order as the only other known track of his is ‘N’hoca’, the b-side on this very single, issued by Rebita with ref# 1068, probably in 1972 or 1973. ‘N’hoca’ was included on the “Soul of Angola” compilation (subtitled “Anthologie de la Musique Angolaise 1965/1975″ and released by Lusafrica as a double-CD on 2001) but not a word about Mr. Von on the liner notes. I hope somebody comes forward with some info!

But the purpose of this blog is to spread the music while sometimes waiting for the narrative to come together. And ‘Nuala ni Lumbi’ is too glorious a track to remain unheard. Right from the bass intro you get the whole melodic picture; the leading vocals, the call and response chorus (“He is Tony Von! He is Tony Von!”, the band sings); the syncopation; the catching guitar counter-melody; all seem a reaction to that handful of notes. Tony, subdued but with palpable bravado, has his way with the song, a semba number with an impressive percussion arrangement (listen to the congas and the double rhythmic shaker mid-through!) and the expected Congolese influence on the electric guitar. He’s really just Tony Von!

Se tem alguma informação sobre Tony Von por favor deixe um comentário!

Os Kiezos ‘Memória de Guy’ (N’Gola, 1976)

Just this summer Os Kiezos were back on the limelight with news of a pioneering contract with Fundação Sol, the cultural institution associated with Angola’s powerful Sol bank, itself an organization with close ties to the ruling MPLA party: on it, it was agreed that an undisclosed amount was to be transferred on a monthly basis to the band leader’s account in order to assure the band’s continuity and to improve its members’ living conditions. It was said that it “represented a firm commitment with a band that played an important role in assuring Angola’s national unity and cultural identity”.

And in no other single on the troubled post-independence days were the Kiezos so politically outspoken as in “Benguela Libertada/Memória de Guy”, released in 1976 to celebrate the defeat and retreat of the South-African army storming the country backing Jonas Savimbi’s UNITA. The artwork itself is a close-up photo of a pro-MPLA rally in Luanda highlighting a banner that reads: “Traitor Savimbe (sic). Ah… For how much did you sell Angola, our homeland.”! Don’t forget that MPLA’s Agostinho Neto had proclaimed Angola’s independence on November 11^th, 1975, just after a significant victory of his military wing (FAPLA, aided by Cuban forces) over advancing FNLA and UNITA troops supported by Zairian and South-African regiments.

The particular twist on this tale is that the title track is composed and performed by Os Bongos’ Boto Trindade, then based on Luanda as a refugee (he and his band were from Lobito, a town in the Benguela province) and throughout the year performing with Os Kiezos in support of engaged singers such as David Zé, Urbano de Castro and Artur Nunes (sometimes entertaining MPLA’s troops as the FAPLA-Povo act).

It was precisely this sort of connection that Analog Africa’s musically excellent “Angola Soundtrack: The Unique Sound of Luanda 1968-1976” compilation missed out on, therefore not really conveying how dynamic and interchanging the band’s line-ups of the period were and how its production was affected by political constraints. And, while I’m at it, you would never know from hearing that (and like-minded) compilation and reading its liner notes just how rich a rock scene Angola had in the sixties, with bands like Brucutus, The Five Kings, The Black Stars, Os Rocks, Os Electrónicos, Os Jovens or Apollo XI. This is not a criticism but a reminder of how much work there is to be done!

But anyway, I’m digressing. I’ve already featured Os Kiezos on the Minguito and Pedrito posts and will undoubtedly return to such a crucial band with further biographical and chronological information. The above b-side was issued by N’Gola with ref# LD 331. The line-up:
Solo guitars: Marito and Boto; rhythm guitar: Gino; bass: Zeca; percussion: Julinho, Juventino, Antoninho and Adolfo Coelho.

One final note: some online chronicles by contemporaries of this release refer to “Memória de Guy” as a slow semba-rumba and to “Benguela Libertada” (which translates as “Liberated Benguela”) as, expectedly, a celebratory and joyous number. And yet, listening to the single you get the opposite impression. I have no idea if there was a labeling and printing mistake but it does seem more honest, in light of the subject matter, to share the more upbeat track.