As with any collaborative endeavour, the style is perhaps stilted at times, as production values and methods swing from the scatty to the sublime, and the record benefits from this immensely. Albarn's supertroupe purely serve to give the Congolese musicians congregated a megaphone from which their varied, tremendous voices may be bellowed. As such, the tracklisting neglects to inform as to which producer twiddled knobs on what track, their Central African counterparts thrust to the fore. Opener Hallo dawns slowly like a russet sunrise over expansive savannah, glimmering synths reminiscent of Floating Points gradually gathering gusto, before a melodica tunes in, ringing like a sedated siren, flaring up an astounding duet between Albarn and Tout Puissant Mukalo and Nelly Liyemge. The record may have been cobbled together in just seven days, although many musicians could slave away for seventy years without conjuring anything quite this special. K-Town, a collaboration with N'Gotshima and Bebson commences amidst sounds more ragtag than a jumble sale as scratches tumble with noodles of guitar, jilting into fragrant life around the 45-second mark when a guitar line of xx epics intervenes, arousing unadulterated euphoria. It sounds as though it's been recorded in a steel pan, or perhaps a can, one shook up in all the right ways that eventually fizzes over effervescently as rudimentary rap lines casually intrude. African Space Anthem (A.S.A.) throbs like elementary video game broadcast over pirate radio while Love, featuring Love, comes across a little like an a capella lullaby. Lingala meanwhile, featuring the prominent Bokatola System as well as Evala Litongo, creeps with a startling portentousness, spasmodic breakbeat underlying looping harmonies. Yende Bongongo of Okwess International delivers vox redolent of those once strained uninhibitedly by Ibrahim Ferrer on the almost Caribbean twang of Lourds; Respect Of The Rules whiffs of Spacemonkeyz' dub reworking of the eponymous Gorillaz debut; We Come From The Forest resonates with the kalimba charm of Konono Nº1 juxtaposed with forbidding synth flutter; Ah Congo is oddly akin to witch house, menacing, as if blurted out from behind the most disconcertingly vivid of ceremonial masks. If the producers occasionally block out much Congolese radiance (particularly on the Washiba-featuring If You Wish to Stay Awake), the ethereal Virginia is quite probably the apex of collaborative success regarding the synthesis of the producer and the produced, an alluring paean filled with splashes of colourful tones and humbling everyday utterances. The suitably agitated bass clatter of Customs, while instrumental, retains an authenticity that's at once feral and refined, although it's the denouement to the LP, Departure (both feature the almost omnipresent Bokatola System), or at least its first half, that dazes overwhelmingly. The equivalent to Albarn's arresting Hong Kong for the contemporary moment, it's a staggering work to transcend time and sound, cavernous and contorted vocals floating above the most luscious orchestration conceivable.
Bash these names into Google presently and all roads lead to Kinshasa One Two. Hopefully this speculative, yet ultimately superb record will see these wondrous acts building paths to great futures...
DRC Music - Kinshasa One Two (see http://drcmusic.org ) by DRC Music
Kinshasa One Two is now available for download via Warp, with physical copies (digipack CD/deluxe vinyl edition) to be shipped out in time for November 7th. Preorder here. All proceeds contribute to Oxfam's continued works in the Democratic Republic of Congo, so do shop away. For more info, here's the Tumblr.
