Music
Femi Kuti, Getting Down And Dirty at 9:30
Nigerian singer Femi Kuti performing in Detroit earlier this month.
(By Elizabeth Conley -- Associated Press)
TOOLBOX
   Resize
COMMENT
 Discussion Policy
 CLOSE
Comments that include profanity or personal attacks or other inappropriate comments or material will be removed from the site. Additionally, entries that are unsigned or contain "signatures" by someone other than the actual author will be removed. Finally, we will take steps to block users who violate any of our posting standards, terms of use or privacy policies or any other policies governing this site. Please review the full rules governing commentaries and discussions. You are fully responsible for the content that you post.
Who's Blogging  |
Femi Kuti may never escape his father's colossal shadow, but after an animated set at the 9:30 club Friday, the son of Afro-beat originator Fela Kuti proved himself worthy of some other tags: Boisterous bandleader. Sultry sax man. Aspiring sex therapist?
The Dr. Ruthisms didn't come till later in the performance, well after the Nigerian singer-saxophonist had blasted through his most popular tunes. (No coincidence that most selections were culled from Kuti's new retrospective disc, "The Definitive Collection.") Didactic ditties "Stop AIDS" and "Do Your Best" escalated from tight, simmering verses into chaotic choruses, with Kuti convulsing along in polyrhythmic tantrums.
His 11-piece backing troupe served up plenty of dynamic cadences, but the overzealous horn section frequently out-muscled the rest of the group. The best horn player onstage was Kuti himself, toggling between elongated drones and fluttery trills, creating a steamy counterpoint to his band's clattery march.
"Beng Beng Beng" was the most promising, and most disappointing, number of the night, with Kuti boasting about his bedroom prowess over a salacious groove. The band played it fast and loose, but Kuti killed the tune's momentum when he hushed his ensemble in order to rattle off a little sex advice. Sure, the X-rated banter was intended to spice things up, but it felt more like groovus interruptus.
-- Chris Richards
