#afro folk

Last year, Isle of Jura’s Kevin Griffiths spun off a new imprint called Temples of Jura in order to focus on contemporary and original artist material. The label’s first release was Dear Adrian / Udaberri Blues, an incredible 12” that featured Len Leise paying tribute to Adrian Sherwood with a glacial riddim excursion and Griffiths unveiling his Jura Soundsystem production moniker with a tripped out spacedub adventure spread across three different versions. In the time since, Temples of Jura also released In the Senses by Filmico, an album from balearic bass funk wizard Fernando Pulichino that swapped out his usual tropical groove euphorics for faded cinematic vistas, hazy VHS dreamscapes, and synth-prog fantasias generated by bleary pad layers, downtempo beat hypnotics, and occasional kisses of Badalamenti-style noir jazz. And now for the label’s third release, we return once more to the sonic environments of Jura Soundsystem with Monster Skies, which sees Griffith’s building on the cosmic hypnotics and seaside psychedelics of “Udaberri Blues” while also spreading out in every direction, resulting in a diverse and adventurous journey encompassing heatwave boogie motions, old skool house jams, hand drum ceremonials, Yoruba creation myths, breakbeat exotics, fuzz guitar aquatics, Afro-folk dreamspells, amorphous cosmic collages, dub hallucinogenics, and layers of immersive jungle ambiance.

Jura Soundsystem - Monster Skies (Temples of Jura, 2019) “Carafe Denim” starts with a tubular bassline jacking beneath hand percussion layers, cushiony kicks, and finger cymbal sparkles. A voice speaks a Yoruba creation myth, detailing how Oduduwa was sent by his father, the Great God of the Sky Olorun, to a primordial Earth covered in water…all while barely there synth vapors waver, shimmer, and intertwine with muted tribal chants. As Oduduwa spreads sand upon the surface and uses a chameleon to test its firmness, the background pad layers erupt into full view…like whispers growing into aquatic wave fronts while cosmic oscillations swirl all around. At some point the bassline cuts out while squawking electronics evoke Oduduwa’s hen, who in the overlying narrative flings about dark earth to create the Great Continent of Africa. And as the word “Africa” is narcotically looped, Griffith’s smoothly drops the bassline back in, resulting in a hands-in-the-air zone out accented by roaring lions, quivering pad atmospherics, echo-morphing claps, and squiggling space liquids that at times sound like underwater turntable scratches. At the other end of the side sits “Monster Skies,” which also basks in African sunshine while colorful birds flutter and sing all throughout the mix. Sweltering blasts of mirage synthesis drift in on warbling delay currents while a beautiful and shambolic kalimba melody weaves a sunrise lullaby. A human voice hums peaceful dream incantations, though everything is delay shrouded…as if beamed in from another dimension. And as the folk singing and kalimba cut away, we are left in a glorious expanse of rainforest ambiance and kosmische radiance. 

The irresistible balearica of “Mamma Capes” sees skittering breakbeats surrounded by a jungle of light, with bird chatter and interstellar oscillation trails intertwining while neon fluids snake through vines and palm frond layers. Clipped conga rhythms flow into the mix as Mike Burn’s blissed out fuzz chords melt down from the sky, with infinite delay feedback carrying the tones towards an eternal ocean horizon. A joyous bubble chime cascade descends then miraculously splits into two divergent strands of pearlescent echo magic that repeatedly shoot up each side of the stereo field and things really take off into a world of slow burn dub psychedelia once Duncan Grey enters with a heady three note bass guitar riff…his methodical cosmos-grooves sitting alongside breaky kicks and snares, choppy hi-hat patterns, finger-rolling hand percussion, and off-beat tambourines. Single note guitar pulsations evoke rainbow puffs of gas before giving way to anthemic fuzz wails, which then miraculously transform into backwards flowing currents of aquamarine haze. It feels like time is moving in reverse as the spirit is enveloped by shimmering clouds of sea-spray spiritualism and in that way, I’m strongly reminded of the work of Steven Wray Lobdell and his Davis Redford Triad. There’s a passage where the rhythms back down into tapping cymbals, panning tambourines, and outerspace debris layers that rocket through dub-echo chains and as we move towards the end, the vibed out rhythms add in muted cowbell taps while gliding within bird of paradise dreamwebs.

The centerpiece of the B-side is “Parrot Rhythmic Space Jam,” which is about as well named as any track could possibly be. Kick drums flow through breaky patterns and skittering shakers, hissing machine hats, and bopping hand drums lock into otherworldly polyrhythms while floating on housey sub-bass hypnotics. Interstellar rainbow sequences ride in on bubble clouds…these hovering arpeggiations that filter-morph and echo-modulate through neon liquid landscapes. Griffiths again employs a psychoactive stereo effect that sees simple melodic patterns splitting into several divergent strands that bounce all around the mix and he constantly manipulates attack and decay, so that the sequences and arpeggios continuously transition between long-form blurs and staccato light trails. Elsewhere, delay-soaked dreamtime melodies are woven from Afro-folk synthetics…like some sort of shimmering paean to the sun that sharply drops into low slung synth bass and skipping breakbeat heat. Sometimes, silvery chime strands blow in a warm tropical breeze as the track transitions into an extended ambient nod out, the basslines having dropped away as the drums smack and crack through sea-spray layers and sci-fi soundworlds wherein alien pulsations and spacey LSD sequences dazzle the mind with synthesized tracers and ever-evolving webs of threaded color.

Preceding “Parrot Rhythmic Space Jam” is “Boogie Tune,” which states its intentions outright as kick and dub-echo clap patterns bring boogie break dancelfoor heat. Double time cymbals are intercut by open hi-hat sizzles and electro-toms converse across the spectrum while fat-bottomed bass synths slide through body moving progressions and electro-funk motions. As smoldering dial-tone synths trace funk spirals in the air, I’m reminded of the freaked out boogie futurisms of Mystic Jungle…just pure confidence and euphoric minimalism uniting together for stretches of cosmic club heat. At some points, the sexual squelch melodies give way to Roland cowbell dances and crystalline cymbal taps and there’s a rhythmic drop in the middle where big chewy bass waves flutter and float above double-time hat shuffles and hand drum percolations. After cutting back to the electrofunk jam out, psychedelic sequences snap through the sky with reverb and echo trails carrying through each ear…the whole thing coming together for a magical stretch of star-surface breakdance ecstasy. Closing out the set is “The Lantern Story,” which features looping freak folk abstractions constructed from swelling cymbal hazes, drunken arps, clacking metals, and disjointed acoustic guitar riffs. Vaporous synthesizers weave fragile prog majesties through a desolate sky while snippets of muted trumpet swell over shaker rhythms. Extra-terrestrial cave liquids drip sideways, wood flutes moan, and screeching drone clouds pan rapidly as the track floats in a hallucinatory dream state and eventually, everything is washed away by radiophonic feedback flutters.

Claremont 56 takes a break from unearthing new and unheard material for another incredible reissue, giving fresh life to Pan Electric’s “Sweet as Rain,” a track first appearing in 2006 on the Defining Moments compilation by Chillosophy Music. This is a truly stunning work that deserved a nice vinyl press, suffused as it is with exotic folk vibrations and intoxicating samples from lead man Matt Coldrick’s time in Ethiopia (read more of the interesting back story here). South African legend Pops Mohamed is along for the ride, adding airy percussion and wondrous kalimba to the African infused psychedelic drift. And alongside the stunning original, Matt has provided a new “Album Version” which stretches things out and sees the sunny folk overtones lessened slightly in favor of heavy synthesizer clouds and gentle cosmic atmospheres.

Pan Electric - Sweet as Rain (Claremont 56, 2018) The original version smothers the kalimba of Pops Mohamed in spacious reverb, sounding like soft rain in the sunshine. Backwards drone fx, whispered vocals, and bird whistles form a lustrous background haze, while synth sequences and pillowy bass tones weave together a colorful and sliding web of sound. Breathtaking chants and soaring vocal leads sit above a laid back, snare heavy drum beat and we occasionally cut into bright guitar-led passages, like sunshine prog-folk as beamed in from the upper Nile valley. The layered and gentle psychedelia is hypnotizing, but the mix is also very active, with many interesting transitions and captivating electronic fx flying through the air. The vibe flows back and forth between sleepy ambiance and shuffling mesmeric rhythmics, with everything coming together for a peaceful walk aside some gentle stream, colorful birds swirling above, and crimson and gold exploding on the horizon.

The “Album Mix” starts with a looser kalimba flow and muffled synth fx intertwining with breathy voices. It’s an extended cinematic intro, floating along until a chopped up and mind-expanding synth effect introduces a massive downtempo glide. The vibrance of the kalimba is downplayed here in favor of galactic synth leads and there are these stirring beatless interludes, sometimes led by strings with fragile wisps of guitar and aquatic organs sitting aside choppy cerebral synths, other times seeing interstellar fx and delirious vocal filtering floating freely through the cosmos. The chants and harmonious feminine leads still dominate, but occasionally synthetic bells and other feverish electronic accents percolate through the stereo field, transporting the sunny Ethiopian nature vibes to outerspace realms. The Afro-folk guitars are held off a bit and slightly buried, but still just as magically transcendent, and majestic prog pads ring out over liquid basslines, everything building in momentum without ever losing the subtle intoxicating swing. And at times, everything comes together for towering passages of rainbow light, with synths soaring over the chill out exotica and chants and singing snippets sent flying through dub delays, their immersive power enhanced by the cascading echoes.

Fighting for Survival · Yoruba Singers

Many years ago, the Africans arrived in the Guianas in chains. The Akan people from the region today known as Ghana were the very first, setting shackled feet upon the South American colony in 1621. More would follow over the next two hundred years, plucked from the nations of Western and Central Africa: the Kongo, the Abuna, the Yagba, the Igbo, the Fula, the Effa. Also the Aku, Egba, Ondo and Ijesa, clans who would be collectively referred to as the Yoruba.

In the intervening centuries, the Yoruba have become noteworthy as one of the few African cultures to survive the cultural erasure of chattel slavery and colonialism virtually intact, putting down new roots in the New World. The Yoruba culture, language and religion have traveled from their source in present-day Nigeria and Republic of Benin to become Santeria in Cuba, Puerto Rico and Dominican Republic; Candomble in Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay; Trinidad Orisha in Trinidad and Tobago; and specialized cults for Yoruba gods like Shango in Guyana.

In 1971, a musical collective formed in the Kitty area of Georgetown, Guyana, bearing the name of this proud African tribe. The members dubbed themselves the Yoruba Folk Group, but they would in time come to be known simply as the Yoruba Singers.