In March of 2002, Afropop Worldwide's Banning Eyre was invited to go to Kinshasa for a week and cover the making of a new album by 77-year-old Wendo Kolosoy. The project was to result in the first release on Marabi Productions, a new label run by Christian Mousset. Christian has produced more amazing afropop albums than you can shake a stick at for his previous label Indigo. The list includes, D'Gary, Mahlathini and the Mahotella Queens, The Super Rail Band, Jaojoby, and many others. At this point in his work, Christian is very interested in recording the "patrimony" of African urban music, while they can still perform. Wendo and his musicians certainly could, and the experience proved very rich for Afropop Worldwide.

In addition to spending lots of time with Wendo and his musicians, Banning managed to sit down with Lutumba Simaro of Bana OK, the surviving version of Franco's TPOK Jazz, and with Kora-award winning Werra Son, the most popular musician in Kinshasa today. Interviews with Wendo, Simaro, and Werra Son are now up on this site. Below are the urls for the complete interviews, and also some excerpts and photographs.

Wendo Kolosoy interview:
http://www.afropop.org/multi/interview/ID/27/Wendo%20Kolosoy,%202002.

Lutumba Simaro interview:
http://www.afropop.org/multi/interview/ID/28/Lutumba%20Simaro,%202002

Werra Son interview:
http://www.afropop.org/multi/interview/ID/26/Werra%20Son:%20Kinshasa,%202002

Excerpt from Wendo Kolosoy interview

AFROPOP WORLDWIDE: How did you get your start in music.

WENDO KOLOSOY: I was born in 1925. I started my musical career 1936. For me, at the time, in Leopoldville, almost all my friends were dead and I remained. As far as I was concerned, music was a gift from God, so it was divine ideas that made me what I am. When I was eleven, there was nothing but music in our home. Being at the house, even the young children there, we sang. That was the most important thing. That gave our lives value at that time.

AW: What did your parents do?

WENDO: My father was a big hunter, and my mother was a singer. She also made music. So when my mother died, I retreated into music. She died when I was 8 or 9. My father died when I was 7. It was the time of colonization. After that, whites took care of me, priests.

AW: How did the priests react when you sang your songs?

WENDO: At the time, with the priests, that was when I started singing songs like "Marie Louise" and "Albertina." And people thought that I was insulting women who didn't know how to dress, who didn't know how to prepare food. I seemed intoxicated to them. So they took me to jail. Because the public reaction to these two songs was disturbing everything. They even arrested me because of the song "Marie Louise," because of its contents.

WENDO'S FRIEND, DEREK: With "Marie Louise," the priests believed that this record was starting to wake up dead people. This is why they arrested Papa Wendo at the missionaries' place. That's the way it was.

WENDO: I will never leave that song "Marie Louise," which is today a kind of fetish song on my albums. That really amazed the public. So even if these songs would land me in prison, "Marie Louise" and "Albertina," I will never leave them.

AW: So the song landed you in prison, but the public supported you, right?

WENDO: When I got out of prison, that song, "Marie Louise," became even more popular in the music scene. I emerged more and more.

AW: I understand you were a mechanic on the Congo River boats for awhile.

WENDO: When I left the priests at 12 or 13 years, I didn't have a way to live. I had to do what I could to survive. So I went to work on the boats.

AW: Where did the boats go?

WENDO: Kisangani, Kikwit, Poflanki. Banningville, ex Bandundu.

AW: What did those boats carry?

WENDO: Manioc, trucks, people. There were cargo boats and passenger boats. I worked on both. I did that for 12 years. After that I worked as a boxer for 4 years.

AW: So you could land a punch back then, eh?

WENDO: Well, it was my work. [LAUGHTER] In my life as a boxer, I went to Congo-Brazza, Cameroon, Pointe Noire, Dakar. I went a bit everywhere. I was middle weight. 80 kilos. Out of five times, I won 2 years, and lost 3. That was between 1941-46.

AW: And that led to your career in music?

WENDO: Everywhere I went, I sang. I boxed. I sang. At the time, as I was traveling on the river, I sang on the river. After the boxing, I went back on the boat. I took my guitar, and I sang for the children of Wendo. When I got back to Kinshasa, there was a guy on the boat who said, "He sings a lot, but [he's never made a record.]" That was when I met [Nicolas] Jermonidis, the Greek there. Ngoma was the name of his company. Ngoma is the drum.

AW: Mr. Jermonidis had already started recording people by then, right?

WENDO: Yes. Bukasa. San Salvador, who sang, "The figure of the girl is like a lamp." People really went for that.

AW: So did you already have that high head voice, then? Your trademark yodeling sound?

WENDO: Yes. To find this voice was not easy. Lots of people were after me to know how to do that, even poor [Grand] Kalle.

AW: Who inspired that?

WENDO: Nobody. I don't know how I got that. It's a gift from God. People really went for that, especially the little ones. They would ask me in the street. "Wendo, Wendo. How do you do that? How can I do that?"

AW: When did you first hear the term "rumba?"

WENDO: I can't tell you exactly when I heard of the concept of rumba, because at that time, we had no guitars, nor any modern instruments needed to play rumba. It was only after modernism came that I adapted to the word rumba. But in the beginning, I didn't pick that up. I heard [the music] that way.

AW: When you recorded "Marie Louise" with Henri Bowane in 1948, did you call it rumba then?

WENDO: At the time, we didn't really have a mindset oriented towards rumba. I, Wendo, I didn't really know that. The word was there, but when I began singing and dancing, it was really the public who appreciated the music, be it rumba; this is biguine, this is waltz. Even in the version of "Marie Louise" I recorded with Bowane, it was almost the same perspective. I sang, I danced. And it was the public who said, "Wendo, that is rumba. That is biguine. That is cha cha."

Excerpt from Lutumba Simaro interview

BANNING EYRE: Tell me a bit about what is happening in Congo music now. I understand that the competition between artists has become severe. Maybe the whole tone of the music is more tough now. What do you think about all that?

SIMARO: Unfortunate. Unfortunate. When we began our conversation, you asked me a question about the two schools of music in the '60s. You might say that you can have two twins, but each has his own name. What is happening today in music, I am not against it. I am their father. They have brought something to the music, youth and new blood. Yes, this is true. But, I must tell you that there is too much monotony. You can't even tell whether this is one band or another, even on the television, if you see the dancing, the way they sing, even the guitarists, their way of playing what they call seben. There is a broadcast that comes on here with this guy Gaspar, it's called Studio Maximum. I was hearing a song from Werra [Son], and yet it was J.B. who is dancing. It's new. I didn't know what was happening. And afterwards, it was a song by J.B. playing, but they are showing Werra, dancing very hard during this song. For the people who follow this show, this puts an idea in their head: you can't tell the difference!

Now with us and O.K. Jazz, Franco was a great composer. I came to join him and I brought my style. Josky arrived, and he had his style. Ndombe came, and he brought his style. We were all in O.K. Jazz. It was Franco's guitar that prevailed in the sound. This is what I have to ask our young artists. When Papa Wemba sings, I know: this is Papa Wemba. He has his style. And my young brother who I like a lot, Kofi, a great lyricist, a great poet. I like him because he brought another way of doing things. Zaiko with Nyoko Longa remained Zaiko, with his style, the part that made people dance, the seben. Zaiko stayed Zaiko. This is what I have to say, if they will hear me, to the Wenge clan: when you separate, you must distinguish yourselves also. The style must change. There are great singers among them. And great composers. Even great arrangers. They are lucky to work in Europe with such great quality. We started out in studios with just a single track. For a song, you were ten musicians. If one of you made a mistake, you all started again.

BE: You had to be real musicians then.

SIMARO: We were real musicians. The singer presented the song. He memorized the song for two or three days until it stayed in his head. He was called on to sing in those days. I'm not talking about Papa Wemba now; that was another epoch. I'm talking about the epoch of Vicky Longomba, of Mujos, and of Kabaselle. If you were a singer, you had to sing everything, European songs, American songs. If someone said, "Sing tango," you sang tango. If someone wanted waltz, you sang a waltz. But ask this of our young singers today? No. And with the guitarists, it was the same thing. We had great guitarists, Papa Noel, Tino Baroza, even Franco. He wanted to play everything. But today, if you ask a question of a young guitarist in any of these groups in our country today, "Do you know the guitarist who was called Tino Baroza?" "Ah, no." "And Nico Kassanda?" "Oh, but no." There are records. They could listen. In my band, I have a young player. He is 20. I call him Olivier. I called on him last week, I sent him out with my little suitcase of albums, to listen. At that time, we already played like that. This is how one studies. Yesterday, he asked me about this song. Was it Tino Baroza? Or was it Rochereau?

BE: So he's getting interested now.

SIMARO: Yes. And he's got the touch. It's very rare to find young people who are interested in international music, like jazz. Even the words. I am a great lyricist. Rochereau also. All our young songwriters must pass by Rochereau, by Franco, and by Simaro. One of our words always ends up in our songs. They don't say so, but that's how it is. We are not jealous. We are proud of our children. They follow our path. But, there are some who sing just anything. There are songs where you can find 200 names of people. They call that "mabanga." But you haven't searched, really searched in your head. There are songs where they talk about, "Oh, Freddy. How are you?" This is a form of mabanga also. It's a way to please a fanatical fan. I heard one song. In every space, there was a name. I asked, "What is that?" He said, "That pays well."

We composers must compose. You must be able to write a song about, for example, this flower. Sing to me about this flower. How did God create it? What do you find in this flower? I want to show you how you can be inspired, and what this flower can represent in a society, in the life of a person. Not necessarily to say, "Antoine, look at this flower! Hey Mama Djili!" What does the name of Mama Djili tell us about the conception of this flower? That is it. Our composers must do that. Myself, they call me today the great poet, the great monument of my country. This is because I have put my smile into my work.

So look, these young children have arrived. They have discovered good technology. They have money, because they have fanatic fans, and now there is commerce and marketing. There are now lots of television stations. When we started, there was no television. Television came and found us. I Simaro was already Simaro before our republic bought a television station. We had only radio, just a single radio station. So when you composed, for your song to be a success, you had to do good work. … In our time, we had a family that gave us two artists, Soki Dianzenza and Soki Vangu. They worked hard and they arrived at a different style. And Nyboma, a great tenor who arrived with something very particular. And we haven't even talked about Pepe Kalle. This was again another school. Today, Pepe Kalle is dead. Grand Kalle is dead. Kwamy, all, all, all gone. There is Carlito, who arrived with a timbre. And there is Papa Wemba who has a style particular to himself. You can't find that anywhere else. This is the thing.

We have good singers in the young bands today. I'm not talking about Werra or J.B. I'm talking about their musicians. Ferre sings very well. And Alain Mpela, and Lacosta has a beautiful voice. But having a nice voice is one thing. Knowing how to master it is something else. As a composer, I am very severe with my singers. Because I don't sing myself. To make make Alain Mpela, Didier Lacosta, and Ferre, I want to give them one Simaro song to sing. People will be astonished.

BE: Great idea.

Excerpt from Werra Son interview

BANNING EYRE: Talk about the album that won you the Kora award.

WERRA: Solo La Bien is the title of the album. It says that people must have dialogue. We need to be in the habit of talking. If there's a problem in the family, to find the problem, there has to be dialogue. People have to sit around a table to look for a problem. No matter what is wrong, if you talk, you can fix it. In this country now, there is an inter-Congolese dialogue. You see? This dialogue must happen. People need to sit around the table and talk to find a solution to end the problems in our country. That was the idea of the album. I call on everyone to make their dialogue calm and peaceful, that there be no conflict and rancor and mashé mashé. People must understand this.

BE: During this visit, we've heard a lot about the competition between you and J.B. Mpiana. A lot of people seem concerned that this competition has gotten out of hand, and become too aggressive. What do you think about that?

WERRA: Well, from my side, there is no problem. We are brothers. We have separated musically. Each of us runs his own life. I am here with my musicians. There was a party to launch our president, Joseph [Kabila], and he invited us both. We sang together. There was no problem. So there are people who don't know how to behave, but I think of him as a brother. There is nothing bad between us.

BE: So the problem is not between you and him, but between the fans.

WERRA: That's normal. There is a competition of loyalty that exists. It's normal. Like the big teams we have here, like Vita and Imana [the two top football clubs, or soccer teams, in Kinshasa] When he is there, the fanatics don't listen. When there is competition, an any case, there are two different camps. But after the game they meet. They say hello. That's the way it is with us. The fanatics don't like each other. But we see each other frequently. We were together, and we are separated musically, but there's nothing bad between us. If we meet, we say hello. But competition is our job.

BE: But does there ever come a time when you feel you have to calm the fans because they become too aggressive?

WERRA: It's very difficult to calm the fanatics. I don't know. It's not us who encourage the fans to be disorderly. It's their own need and desire. I can't really go in and say, "Hey, don't do that." But I do advise them not to do bad things. It's normal. It's normal.

BE: I've asked older people to compare this with the old competition between OK Jazz and African Jazz, and they've told me that this is different. It's much more tough. People are more angry. Maybe this is just a reflection of a different time in the country. What do you think?

WERRA: This is our time. It's normal that people love us a lot. Jealousy is normal. Their time has passed now. This is our epoch and we are trying to stay on the page.

BE: But does there ever come a time when you feel you have to calm the fans because they become too aggressive?

WERRA: It's very difficult to calm the fanatics. I don't know. It's not us who encourage the fans to be disorderly. It's their own need and desire. I can't really go in and say, "Hey, don't do that." But I do advise them not to do bad things. It's normal. It's normal.

ARNAULD ROBERT: One thing that really hit us seeing artists like Wendo is the fact that they are not really rich. The difference in this time is that artists like you, Kofi, and J.B. live in a manner that is very different from the population. How do you take that? How do you judge that? You live in a different universe than the population. Does that change the spirit of a musician?

WERRA: It's normal. The technology has changed in comparison to earlier epochs. We too have evolved. But if our older artists are living in misery, that's understandable, because our author's rights were not protected here. These elders lived from concerts, relationships. Their rights were not protected. If they had been well protected, they would not be in this condition. But now, we have understood that. Like me, when I went to Paris, I got my author's rights through SACEM. In these three years, I've had my rights, and they are protected around the world.

AR: Do you think a Congolese artist today can make it without some support from Europe?

WERRA: Well…. In the end, now, I believe that can work now, because now our music is followed by everyone. We can go and play in big halls that even many European artists have never played. Not just anyone can play in Bercy. There are artists released by big European labels who have never played there. For me to play Bercy, it took three months of publicity. It was even on television. If you want to play in Paris in a big hall, you have to go on Canal Plus and the big networks of Paris, so that everyone knows you are doing a big concert. I had 22,000 people. People were asking, "Who is this guy, Werra Son?" Because a lot of big European artists who have never filled that room.

Contributed by: Banning Eyre