Sorrow Tears and Blood
When Art Becomes Dangerous & Revolutionary
“Art is dangerous. It is one of the attractions: when it ceases to be dangerous, you don't want it.” - Duke Ellington
I am fascinated with the idea that Art can be subversive and revolutionary. The thought that art can be dangerous speaks volumes that those in power feel threatened by art & artists. Even Plato spoke volumes about how art had no worth and was morally, psychologically, and politically dangerous to society.
Throughout the 20th and 21st centuries, there have been countless examples where artists dangerously challenged their governments. In 1937 Germany's Nazi policy was to confiscate any artwork deemed modern, degenerate, or subversive from museums and collections throughout the Reich. Many artists during Portuguese Dictator António de Oliveira Salazar’s reign were imprisoned or exiled. Dissident and exiled Chinese artist Ai Weiwei spent time in jail for being highly critical of China’s stance on democracy and their record on Human Rights. In the US, artists have often incited controversy. Robert Mapplethorpe’s homoerotic S&M photos, Karen Finley’s performances, and Andres Serrano’s “Piss Christ” immediately come to mind. As does art student Dread Scott, who in 1989 invited people to walk across the US flag in his highly controversial display entitled “What Is The Proper Way To Display A US Flag.” Scott’s art ignited a firestorm in Chicago, and the controversy traveled to Congress and even the White House. Republican senator Jesse Helms made it a personal crusade to defund the National Endowment of the Arts and to crack down on what he deemed “obscene and offensive works.”
Music, of course, has often been the subject of controversy. In 1969, Brazilian musicians Gilberto Gil and Caetano Veloso were imprisoned and forced to live in exile. After being shot, Bob Marley spent two years in London in a self-imposed exile. From the very outset, rock & roll was viewed as a moral threat to American values and ideals. In England, The Pretty Things were scapegoats for the dangerous, rebellious, and deprived aspects of the rock & roll trend sweeping the nation. The "dope, guns, and fucking in the street" manifesto of the MC5 and John Sinclair was an audacious and blatant jab at the establishment. As a result, the band was under continual police and government surveillance. By the mid-1970s, when major rock acts were venturing down increasingly safer and staid paths, Punk was the much-needed kick in the face rock & roll needed. A decade later, white suburban parents were so alarmed by heavy metal's ascent in the 1980s that Tipper Gore and her Parents Music Resource Center (PMRC) battled to outlaw the "Filthy Fifteen.” In 1985, a Senate Hearing was convened to deliberate on placing warning labels on music albums. Twisted Sister's Dee Snider, Frank Zappa, and John Denver would all provide heated testimony in court arguing the PMRC’s agenda violated the civil rights of music artists. Ultimately, the PMRC emerged victorious. However, the decision to put stickers on albums had unintended consequences, leading to increased sales due to the ensuing controversy.
In 1992, Rage Against The Machine hurled a rock & roll Molotov cocktail on suburban America with their vehement objections to US foreign and domestic affairs. Parents, educators, and police across the country were terrified when teenagers began playing the incendiary Killing In The Name Of and shouting, "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me," from bedrooms, schools, and the streets.
Most recently, several states have begun banning books from school libraries, proving that censorship and art’s perceived threat to American values is still just as relevant today.
Yet, all of this still looks relatively tame compared to Afrobeat pioneer Fela Aníkúlápó Kuti (October 15, 1938-August 2, 1997).
Not only was Fela capable of inspiring and shocking at the same time, but real life and death danger surrounded him. Fela courageously used his art to challenge neocolonialism and was unafraid to list names and criticize the failings of Nigerian authority and politics. His music not only put the Nigerian government on edge, but it nearly killed him. He was considered a pariah by the Government, who arrested him countless times and beaten by both the police and the military. None worse than when nearly 1000 troops descended on Fela’s home called the Kalakuta Republic on February 18, 1977. Over sixty people suffered critical injuries and were admitted to the hospital. Men had their testicles pounded with rifle butts, women were stripped and brutally raped, Fela was beaten unconscious, and his elderly mother was thrown from her bedroom window and died a year later from her injuries sustained in the attack. The compound was also burned to the ground, and the resulting fire destroyed everything, including Fela’s recording studio, all instruments, master tapes, over 70 vehicles, and its health clinic.
The traumatic assault is vividly painted in Fela Kuti’s song, Coffin for Head of State, recorded in 1978. The epic 23-minute composition covers both sides and kicks off with minimalistic organ chords, a deep, hypnotic, funky bass groove, and punchy, brazen horns that eventually propel the song into its improvised jam. When Fela’s lyrics come in (on side 2), he details in Pidgin English the day his mother died and how he and the Young African Pioneers Organization marched her coffin down to Dodan Barracks, where under the sights of pointed guns, they defiantly placed her coffin at the gates. Adding to the song’s vicious criticism are pointed jabs at the religious hypocrisies of both Christianity and Islam and the harm they have caused to African culture. No stranger to speaking his mind, Fela also included photographic evidence of the event on the album’s cover. It is a breathtaking song that Fela released to help exorcize his pain and anger at the government. It’s also a testament that his mother’s death would not be silent and unanswered.
Fela Ransome Kuti started life as a Calypso-influenced high-life musician in Nigeria. In 1958, he left Nigeria to study music in London. While in England, he was introduced to Miles Davis, Charlie Parker, and John Coltrane and decided to form his own jazz band, Koola Lobitos. In 1969, he traveled to America and met Sandra Izsadore, who introduced him to the Black Panther Party and encouraged Fela to read many books about white oppression, colonialism, and Black Revolution. The Autobiography of Malcolm X and books by Frantz Fanon both had a profound influence on Fela. In later interviews, he would credit Izsadore for “Giving me the education I wanted to know.” After ten months in America, including a residency at the Citadel d’Haiti on Sunset Boulevard, Fela eventually returned to his homeland politically aware and wanted to create African music with a message.
Changing his band’s name to Africa ‘70, Fela combined his love for bouncy high-life music with American Jazz and James Brown-inspired funk. When describing his music, Fela coined the name “Afrobeat.” It was a seductive, polyrhythmic, funky sound with improvisational jazz fusions comprising a dizzying array of instruments that included saxophones, trumpets, trombones, keyboards, guitars, bass, African percussion, western drums (former Cream drummer Ginger Baker once recorded with Fela), and radically political songs sung in both Yorùbá & Pidgin English. His records were considered anti-establishment and banned from Government-run radio stations.
Black Man’s Cry, from his 1971 album Fela with Ginger Baker Live!, is one of Fela’s earliest songs that sang about the African Diaspora and emancipation from slavery. In its 11+ minutes, it zestfully expresses Black power, Black pride, and Black love. Except for one line, it is sung entirely in Yorùbá and translates to:
When will we be free from plantation slavery
When will we be free from plantation slavery
We’ll be free one day from the plantation
We’ll be free one day from the plantation
Who says my black skin is not beautiful?
Show me the person- I want to see him
There is nothing as beautiful as your black skin
There is nothing as beautiful as my black skin
Look at me closely
Yeah_yeba yeah-ee yeah yeah
That’s the Black man’s cry
Get it one more time
Fela eventually offloaded his English-given middle name, “Ransome,” and adopted the Yorùbá “Aníkúlápó,” which translates as having death inside your quiver. Once translated, his full name conveyed a sense of invincibility; He who emanates greatness, has control over death, and cannot be killed by man.
Fela lived in the commune he named the Kalakuta Republic, located in the sprawling Surulere slum of Lagos. It housed his family, his wives, bandmates, a recording studio, and a health clinic. Kuti declared the compound independent from the military-governed state. His club, The Africa Shrine, was also nearby and became a popular hangout for people from all over Nigeria, Africa, and eventually, the world.
Fela Kuti’s live performances were electrifying. His stage presence was vibrant and charismatic. As a polygynist, he surrounded himself with dancing, body-painted women who would later become his wives. His large band locked into a dynamic, deep groove of hypnotizing free-form funky jazz jams.
My introduction to Fela Kuti was a late-night repeat BBC broadcast of his legendary 1984 Glastonbury performance. I was captivated by his personable charm on both stage and in interviews and enthralled by the many dancers and musicians that filled the massive stage. It wasn't until several years later that I finally bought my first Fela Kuti album (‘No Agreement’).
There is no question that his discography can be an intimidating catalog for the newcomer to approach. With over 60 albums that bear his name, where does one start? Adding to the dilemma, many of his albums in the '70s and '80s were side-long tracks. Others are one long 30-minute track taking up both sides of the album. Often, the songs start as an improvised jam only to have Fela’s vocals enter halfway through. Lyrically, they espoused his views on the plight of Africa, military authoritarianism, colonization, the African diaspora, and corrupt colonial puppets in Government. Songs such as Colonial Mentality scorned these new elites in post-independence Africa who were pandering to Europe instead of working towards the continent's liberation. Yellow Fever criticized African women who were trying to lighten their skin. Confusion denounces the corruption of Nigeria, which was oil-rich, yet public services such as education, health care, and infrastructure had little investment. And, in Gentleman, Fela proudly boasts he is an African man rather than trying to mimic a British “gentleman.”
However, Fela’s 1976 album, Zombie, proved to be the last straw in his artistic assault against the government and military. His nearly 13-minute scathing attack on Nigerian soldiers both lambasted and taunted the military as zombies with “no brain, no job & no sense.” Their response was swift and brutal and led to the appalling attack on the Kalakuta Republic on February 18th, 1977. The following year, Fela was deported and banned from Ghana after riots broke out when performing ‘Zombie’ in Accra.
Looking back, it's clear that Fela was a true African hero and a visionary artist. He stood by his principles, even though he had his contradictions. What made him truly remarkable was his ability to make his voice resonate across the world as he tirelessly fought for the African identity. It is, however, worth noting that for a man whose politics were so progressive, he was not immune to embracing problematic sexist and homophobic attitudes. Fela was a multi-faceted, visionary, and incredibly energetic artist who created art that challenged corrupt, authoritarian power structures and inspired millions. Today, he is considered a musical prophet and an icon in Nigeria. Fela’s art also nearly killed him.
“As an artist, politically, artistically, your whole idea about your environment must be represented in the music. As far as Africa is concerned, music must not be for enjoyment. Music must be for revolution.” - Fela Aníkúlápó Kuti
You know you're a dangerous musician when the military of your country destroys your house!
Sounds like an extremely talented musician and a creative genius of sorts. I have a lot of reservations about some of his views but I try to separate the artist from the person whenever possible.