V. Muna Kangsen
For decades, the music emanating from the Democratic Republic of Congo and its neighbor and musical rival, the Republic of Congo, has dominated African airwaves and record charts influencing artists from across the continent, who in turn borrowed generously from its aesthetics.
Generally referred to simply as “Congolese”, the popular music of both Congos evolved against a backdrop tampered by the vicissitudes of colonialism, Western-backed military dictatorships, as well as civil wars, which saw the deposal of Mobutu in Congo-Kinshasa and the return of Sassou Nguesso in Brazzaville.
While names like Franco, Grand Kalle and Nico became household names all over Africa, and Africans continued to find solace in their music, audiences at home and abroad remained largely oblivious to the forces, which informed the evolution of the music. The proliferation of Congolese popular music has produced a small but increasing volume of literature providing valuable insights to its development.
One such volume is Gary Stewart’s Rumba on the River: A history of the popular music of the two Congos. In a detail-filled narrative rife with intrigue and exploitation, genius and short-lived careers, Stewart chronicles the evolution of Congolese popular music from its origins in the 1940s to its current position as one of the Africa’s most dominant music styles.
Stewart’s emphasis is on the socio-economic, political and cultural context in which the revolution, known at various times as Rumba, Kwasa, and Soukous evolves. He paints a fuller picture here-to-fore unbeknownst to most fans of Congolese pop.
‘Rumba on the River’ begins with a synopsis of the torturous pre-colonial and colonial past suffered by both Congos at the hands of the French and Belgians. The two Congos once formed part of the Kingdom of Bakongo, which extended into present day Angola. The demise of the Bakongo kingdom began in 1483 with the arrival of a Portuguese missionary name Diego Caou. It was exacerbated by the arrival of Henry Morton Stanley and Savognan de Brazza—exploring at the behest of the Belgian and French governments respectively.
The trans-Atlantic slave trade dealt a catastrophic blow and as many as five million Africans are set to have come from the Congo River basin. The Conference of Berlini in 1884 partitioned the Bakongo kingdom between the French, Belgians and Portuguese. Stewart traces the origins of Congolese popular music to the confluence, in colonial Leopoldville, of variables occasioned by these seismic forces.
European instruments had made their way into Africa through the explorers and missionaries and had increased considerable with passing time. A small but steady stream of Jazz by artists like Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington, and Afro-Cuban rhythms from purveyors such as Sexteto Habanero and Guillermo Castillo, were the first sounds to echo out of the brand new gramophones, guitars and horns, which many Africans by this time could afford.
Traditional Congolese styles—the Maringa, common to the Katanga and Loango areas of RDC and RC respectively—and instruments—thumb piano and percussions of all kinds—were merged with Afro-Cuban rhythms thus creating ‘Rumba’.What became known as rumba, Stewart asserts, is actually an Afro-Cuban rhythm the son.
The son, writes Dr. Olavo Alen Rodrigues in De lo Afrocubano a la salsa “is the culmination of instruments and poetry used by Spanish descended farmers with rhythmic elements brought to Cuba by African slaves.”
Performed primarily by Black and mulatto musicians, the son incorporated the call-and-response singing dominant in African music with a guitar-like improvisation of Spanish origins called the tres. The music continued to evolve in the early 70s when 78rpms replaced 45’. Bands like the legendary O.K Jazz made use of this development by recording lengthy compositions conjugated by an even lengthier guitar solo, the sebene.
The river of music runs deep in both Congos and its tributaries are spread out across Africa.
In Rumba on the River, Stewart portrays a local musical landscape filled with raw talents—in proportion to the gems and black gold bulging underneath. The musical scenes of colonial Leopoldville and Brazzaville attracted artists from across the continent: Manu Dibango of Cameroon made his debut with Joseph Kabasale’s African Jazz in 1956, while Zimbabwean Isaac Musekiwa, who started with the O.K. Jazz around the same time, achieved renown as O.K. Jazz’s longest serving member, no small accomplishment given the band’s revolving door policy, which filtered hundreds of musicians through its rank.
According to Stewart, Greek businessmen were the first to exploit the musical talents of the Congolese by setting up the first recording studios in Leopoldville. Ruthless at times as the Belgian thugs who ran Congo during the era of the Congo Free State, these managers lured talent from various studios with gifts of musical instruments and flashy motorbikes in an atmosphere void of binding contracts and prone to desertions. Guitarists Henri Bowane and Wendo Kolosoyi changed studios a few times.
Of the great bands produced by both Congos, two of the most enduring were the O.K. Jazz led by its charismatic leader Luambo Makiadi, and African Jazz led by Joseph Kabasele and subsequently by Tabu Ley Rochereau. A gifted songwriter, guitarist and bon-vivant, Franco more than any single individual, dominated the musical scene in Congo-Kinshasa from the late 1970s until his death in the late 80s. At its apex, Franco’s O.K. Jazz numbered about thirty-five musicians, a roster that included some of the most recognized artists from both Congos.
In Rumba on the River, Stewart attributes a significant role to the popular music of both Congos in sustaining, informing and inspiring citizens of both countries though decades of social, political and economic malaise. The popular music of the two Congos, Stewart asserts, evolved in part from the plight of both peoples, a recurrent theme in the music. The struggle for independence, corroding social values caused by economic hardships are a few of the themes frequently echoed in the popular music of both Congos Stewart writes.
In Congo-Kinshasa, where local politicians relied on musicians to rally support and to get the message out, the author writes that Joseph Kabasale of African Jazz, one of the great bands of the era, rode around Leopoldville with Patrice Lumumba in his convertible Cadillac. The buoyant national pride which came alive on the eve of independence was adequately captured by Kabasale and African Jazz in a song titled ‘Independence Cha Cha Cha’ recorded while in Brussels to attend a conference between the Belgian and Congolese authorities on the eve of independence.
According to Stewart, the popular music of both Congos and its stars succumbed, at various times, to the foibles of the dominant political mores of the day. At times, the musicians of both Congos were used as tools of propaganda by the regime in place. When Mobutu launched his campaign of authenticity, a cynical attempt to resort to a glorious African past, prominent artists from Congo-Kinshasa acquired African names, and praised this policy in their recordings. In fact, according to ‘Rumba on the River’, Franco and the O.K. Jazz undertook a two-year long tour advocating for “authenticite”. The nationalization campaign of the mid-70s provided another occasion for Mobutu to disburse of his patronage. Large portions of the recording industry once owned by Belgian interests were handed over to local artists who promptly mismanaged them out of business. The rapidly declining economic and political conditions under both Congos influenced live performances by musicians of the two Congos. The spectacle or the show, expensive stage effects and flamboyant outfits once championed by Rochereau and African Jazz all but disappeared in the early 1980s at it became too expensive to pay for. The turning economic tides of the early 1980s also triggered a massive exodus of the musicians of both Congos as many found refuge in Paris and Brussels.
The flaws of Rumba on the River are fewer than its strengths. The book cover which features a photograph of an elegantly dressed Willy Kutina of African Jazz fame for instance bespeaks of New Orleans jazz than Congolese pop and could be misleading.
Also missing is material about the recent dombolo phenomenon championed by the likes of General Defao and Koffi Olomide. Little is said about the collapse of the Mobutu and Sassou Nguesso regime, what came about after both and how that in turn influenced the latest offerings of the popular music of both Congos. Attention to detail further derails the narrative at various times as the reader gets entangled in a web of names and song titles.
In all, Rumba on the River is the most comprehensive account of the popular music of Congo-Kinshasa and Congo-Brazzaville to date and an important book to have for anyone interested in the history and culture of both Congos.
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