Angélique Kidjo. That’s her name. I can’t quite remember how I came across her but it was a few years back when she released her breakthrough album for the American public, the Brazilian-inspired Black Ivory Soul. For many years, the singer has been at the forefront of the world music movement with her work staying true to the “world” part of the genre.
Much to my surprise, Ms. Kidjo scheduled concerts in Mexico as part of the promotional tour for her latest production, Djin Djin. One of the stops included GDL and I just had to be there. It would be my first time seeing her live. I had never even seen her on video before…just her music and a few photos.
The concert was this past Tuesday.
Angélique’s gift to the world is her ability to create various, often collaborative, fusions which always remain true to her African roots. Born in the nation of Benin in western Africa, but living in Paris since 1980, most of her songs are in her native Yoruba language with the occasional song in French or English.
Her repertoire, heavy in drums and percussion, blends traditional African rhythms with new world creations such as jazz, R&B, funk, salsa, merengue, calypso, reggae and others. Her genius is that she’s traveled the world making these new sounds her own only to intricately weave them back into the sounds of the old motherland. It’s a match made in heaven! Or perhaps a match that was always meant to be. The end result is a sound so universal that it transcends linguistic, racial, and geographical boundaries.
Wearing her hair short and platinum blonde, dressed in a cropped, shiny red jacket and a pair of humorous mariachi pants, the pint-sized beauty took to the stage like a fireball bouncing ablaze every which way. You can’t help but marvel at an energy so mesmerizing and disarming. Early into the show, she introduced us to what I imagine is her favorite dance move: a shoulder shimmy (performed with her back to the audience) so fluid that her entire back rippled like a waves in motion. You could hear the collective gasp in the audience.
Angélique’s voice, an instrument in itself, reaches high notes while never losing the velvety quality of her lower registers. She possesses the lyrical, vocal, and musical talents of any world-class diva out there but her sheer brilliance lies in her authenticity – a humanity so unstoppable that in my eyes, right then and there, she became simply ethereal.
After a few songs, it was time for a change of costume, giving the band a chance to showcase their individual talents. The percussionist, originally from Senegal, had all sorts of interesting instruments and toys. It was fascinating to watch him maneuver each of them with great ease. There was also a Brazilian acoustic guitar player, a guy from Guadeloupe on bass, another guy from South Africa on the electric guitar, and finally, a drummer from Suriname. There you have it, world music in the making.
Though all the songs were up-tempo, the audience stayed put in their seats bobbing their heads here and there. I too, stayed put, shimmying my shoulders and tapping my feet wishing someone would do something about the situation. Thankfully, after a particularly contagious salsa-inspired number, dumbfounded, the artist asked why everyone was still in their seats. She said: “Don’t tell me that’s how you dance the salsa here in Mexico? I don’t believe it!”
She swiftly transitioned to “Afirika”, an emblematic tribute to her land – any land really – and with the wave of one hand she motioned the audience to get up and dance. Just as quickly, the crowd stood up and willingly made their way to the front of the stage. Ladies and gentlemen, the party has finally started! She then did something I had secretly wished she would do, yes, she got off the stage and danced her way up and down the aisles and around to the other side of the stage all along drawing a trail of dancey audience members following her everywhere she went. That’s when she invited everyone to jump on stage and party on with her. You had to be there to witness this impromptu moment of bliss.
The crowd was beautiful, diverse in so many ways – age, skin color, ability to dance gracefully. These people didn't look at all like the ones at the start of the show. Did they just get bussed in from Party Central? I stayed in my assigned seat area but looking on to the stage, it became clear that we were treated to a visual rendition of the message behind Angélique’s music. I just loved the spontaneity of it all. With the music -- and the people adding color to it -- Angélique’s message of joy, love of nature, and unwavering courage became a multi-dimensional collage of undeniable significance.
As the show wound down, I imagined Angélique as the best friend who left the small village a long time ago to explore the world at large only to come back later and recount her experiences in such a vivid and magical way that I felt like I had been part of the journey all along -- her stories, a gift; her courage, a source of inspiration to those who stayed safely behind.
In my trance, I found great comfort reconnecting to my roots. My Afro-Dominican-American-Hip-Shaking-Foot-Dragging-Multi-Inmigrant-Bilingual self felt in complete and utter balance. My thanks to Angélique or to the party she started, for that!
Did I find any flaws in the show? Well, actually, yes…the show was too darn short. By the time she finished with her second encore, the crowd was still begging for more. It had been a grand spectacle delivered in the most deceivingly simple of ways.
While fiercely original, I couldn’t help but draw comparisons between Angélique’s work and that of other influential and highly original performers before her. Specifically, Angélique’s body of work and stage persona evoke the arresting spunk of James Brown, the nostalgic earthliness of Ms. Miriam Makeba, and the unapologetic exuberance of the ever-so-iconic Celia Cruz.
Days later, as I write this piece, I’m still abuzz with joy and wonderment. The party continues inside.
For more information on the singer, check out her website.
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