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Sam Mangwana
The King of Rumba Makes a Comeback
Paris
07/04/2003 -
RFI: You've played with many of the greatest Congolese rumba stars of all time such as Franco in OK Jazz and Tabu Ley and his group African Fiesta. What formative influences did this experience have on you?
Sam Mangwana: Well, it was a chance of a lifetime for me being 17 years eight months old and getting to serve a musical apprenticeship with the likes of Tabu Ley and Dr Nico. From there I went on to meet Wendo Kolosoy. I ended up going on a European tour with him in 1966, in fact, then we did Zambia the following year. That's what helped me grow as a singer and got me into the groove of Congolese rumba – because, let me tell you, rumba isn't just music, it's a whole attitude, a whole way of behaving! It's not something you can be taught, you know. You have to integrate it into your life and start living your life rumba style, speaking rumba, singing rumba and dancing rumba.
RFI: So if you can't be taught it how do you go about acquiring the fundamentals of rumba?
S.M.: As far as being a singer goes I'd say I've found a way of expressing myself within a certain environment. Rumba's a pretty selective circle, you know. If you weren't brought up properly you couldn't live life rumba style or "be jazz." Back then it was common for people to say "Oh that guy, you know, he's really jazz!" which meant that the guy had a really good attitude, he knew how to express himself and behaved in a decent way in everyday life. And for me that's at the bottom of what it means to live your life rumba style.
RFI: Your new album seems to revolve around a good deal of nostalgia for the good old days of rumba…
S.M.: Yes, I think that goes without saying! When you listen to Kale Catho, the fourth track on the album, it's a direct reference to 50s rumba. I was 8 years old at the time and I'd just started getting into modern Congolese music. And then there's Comité Ya Bantous, a track that reminds me of 1963, the year I used to cross the river Congo to go and watch Célestin Nkouka perform with the Bantou Orchestra in Brazzaville. These songs are a real link to the past, because frankly when you look around and see what's happening today I prefer to look back and remember the way things used to be!
RFI: What would you say are the main problems today?
S.M.: I'd say the whole of black Africa is beset by its own particular problems. Don't get me wrong, I'm not pointing the finger at anyone in particular. The youth of today let off steam the only way they can, that's to say with a big vacuum around them. There's a big vacuum when it comes to initiating them into life and instilling them with moral values – and that's not their fault, they can only express themselves through what they find around them and what they find around them is chaos.
RFI: So you think times have become particularly tough in Africa?
S.M.: Yes, that's exactly how I'd put it. One of the problems is we've got into this terrible habit of copying what's going on elsewhere. Take the so-called "sapeur" movement, for instance, those kids grew up in a real vacuum. There was a real breakdown in teaching and education, there were no decent schools around any more and those kids were more or less abandoned. But they had to identify with something. When you're young and you've got no real experience of life it's only natural to be attracted to flashy, eye-grabbing things that don't necessarily have any substance. I'm not pointing the finger at anyone in particular. You have to let kids let off steam and express themselves somehow. All I can say is maybe the current comeback of old-style rumba will get people thinking. Maybe it’d be good if there were a return to 50s values. People should take the best of those years to help them move on and progress.
RFI: Rumba has made a surprise comeback this year with albums from Tabu Ley, Wendo Kolosoy and the group Rumbanella and now your new album. How do you account for this?
S.M.: When you get to a point where things have become totally monotonous people start looking around for something new. Everybody's speeding along at an alarming pace without looking where they're going then all of a sudden bam! you find yourself at the edge of an abyss and that's when you look over your shoulder and see the past. And you have to take the best of what you find there. A few years back when I saw what amazing success Compay Segundo was having I thought to myself, "Well now the world's media and record producers have finally understood that it's time to rework things and give the youth of today the best of what we had in the past!" I'm not saying people should relive the past exactly as it was lived the first time round, just that the past is a good reference when it comes to teaching morality, discipline and a certain art of living.
RFI: What's the difference between Congolese rumba and Cuban rumba?
S.M.: To tell you the truth I always feel a bit frustrated when people talk about "Cuban rumba." When I was living at home my parents used to listen to these records that came out on "La voix de son maître" (His Master's Voice), a label that produced all these Venezuelan artists who were really big in Léopoldville. For me the "Latino sound" is not simply synonymous with Cuba. That's why I decided to have Orlando Poléo, a fabulous musician from Venezuela, as one of the guest stars on my new album. When Orlando turned up in the studio he sat down and played the whole album straight off and when I turned round and asked him how he'd managed to pick the tracks up so quickly he said, "It's the music my parents used to listen to in Venezuela in the 40s!" Then Orlando asked me, "So is that really how things were in Congo?" And I was like, "Yes, this is more or less the same style!" So that just goes to show African and Latin American musicians were already playing a very similar style of rumba back then.
RFI: There's a distinctive Cap Verde feel to the title track on your new album. Are there similiarities between Cap Verdean saudade and rumba?
S.M.: The music people listen to in Cap Verde is actually the same style of music that's played in Angola and all the other Portuguese-speaking countries in Africa. Basically, it's a mix between Africa and Mediterranean, Spanish and Portuguese sounds. Educated people would listen to this kind of music in the 40s, 50s and 60s and, as I said, it's a style that's particular to all Portuguese-speaking countries in Africa.
As for rumba, that's made up of quite a strange m
RFI: Have you always felt close to your Angolan homeland? S.M.: Yes, I have. I was born into that mentality where I knew I'd end up going home some day. You know, people from Congo Brazzaville, Cameroon, Angola and Zambia who were born in Belgian Congo automatically became citizens of their home countries. We had these identity cards with red stripes down the middle – that's how the colonial administrations controlled the flow of migrants. Although we were living in Congo we always felt ourselves to be Angolan. We knew we'd go home one day and that's exactly what happened for a lot of people. They went back as soon as independence was declared and we were welcomed as if we were returning home. There's a lot of overlapping of borders really. That's why you find such a big mix of African sounds in rumba.
RFI: How did you go about recording your album?
S.M.: When my contract with the American label Putumayo came to an end I decided to produce a new album myself with the help of this young 36-year-old Frenchman by the name of Vincent Hamamdjian. It was great, we worked in this wonderfully calm atmosphere over at his place. Meanwhile, I was also on the look-out for a distributor. I finally chose to work with Next Music – formerly known as Sonodisc – they were familiar with my old back catalogue which stretches back thirty years now.
RFI: Why did you decide to do another version of Gallo Negro, the title track of your last album?
S.M.: Well, I'd had a few complaints from fans saying they'd had problems finding my old records. And as Gallo Negro was really popular with fans I decided to include it on my new album to make them happy.
RFI: There's another song on your new album, Faty, that must conjure up a few happy memories too…
S.M.: Faty's a song I wrote in the 1980s when I went back to Kinshasa after spending six years in Ivory Coast. I had this friend, Empompo Loway, who plays sax, who turned round to me one day and said, "Man, we love it over here when you sing in Ivorian French (sic)". So I started working on this melody with a little phrase in "Ivorian French" and told Empompo "OK, it's up to you to finish the song however you want." He came up with the name Fatimata and then we finished the song together. Sadly, Empompo's no longer with us these days, but he's left us with this absolute musical gem.
RFI: Is Cantos de Esperança, as the name suggests, a message of hope?
S.M.: Yes, it's a "song of hope". This song is basically my way of expressing my admiration for all those wonderful mothers across Africa who, despite all the wars and crises, have always done everything in their power to protect their offspring.
RFI: Is it important to you to perform your songs live on stage?
S.M.: I'm not a big fan of all this modern technology and there's no doubt about it, live on stage is the place where I express myself the best. I love the musical colour and tone of my new album, that's why I really tried to keep things as simple as possible. There's this indescribable thing that goes on when you perform your songs live. Wherever I am in the world my music really comes into its own live and I get a really big kick out of seeing Scandinavian or American audiences 'rubbing up' against one another to my rumba. I love performing live. I've been playing a whole series of concerts this week in Angola, in fact, presenting songs from Cantos de Esperança.
Sam Mangwana: New album Cantos de Esperança (Next Music)
Concert: at Le Café de la Danse in Paris on 15 May 2003
Pierre René-Worms
Translation : Julie Street
24/03/2003 -
