Although based in London for much of their existence, The Funkees are a prime example of ’70s Nigerian Afro-rock potency, the unit dishing out well-calibrated rhythmic intensity fortified with equally focused guitar, keyboard, and vocals. A 2LP set from four years’ back made the titular claim of corralling their best stuff, but it’s hard to come by on wax these days; happily, the Austrian label Presch Media GmbH has recently reissued The Funkees’ second full-length Now I’m a Man on LP and CD. While not as goodness-packed as the comp, its contents will still be of interest to Afro-rock fans.
The Funkees were originally intended as a vehicle for guitarist Harry Mosco Agada, then a member of Celestine Ukwu’s Music Royals. Commencing activity near the end of the Nigerian civil war, they surrendered to military forces not long after and were subsequently sent to Owerri with the task of entertaining both the victorious Nigerian army and musically soothing the fears of their fellow Biafrans.
Frequent lineup changes occurred, but after transitioning to the city of Aba, stability emerged largely due to the wild popularity engendered by their club performances. As The Funkees became major stars in Nigeria’s Igbo region, their success was but one part of an Afro-rock flourishing most recently documented by Wake Up You!, the Now Again label’s terrific pair of Uchenna Ikonne-compiled CD + book volumes dedicated to the subject.
The Funkees’ cover of War’s “Slipping into Darkness” landed on the second installment of Wake Up You!, and it easily reinforced the appropriateness of their name. This wasn’t a new discovery; prime Funkees selections had been regularly popping up on multi-artist retrospectives since Strut brought out Nigeria 70: The Definitive Story of 1970’s Funky Lagos in 2001. Soundway eventually devoting an entire release to the band’s output, and in particular their early singles, was a very shrewd decision.
The Funkees’ existence can effectively be cleaved with the move to London in 1973. Dancing Time: The Best of Eastern Nigeria’s Afro Rock Exponents 1973-77 makes clear the outfit’s strongest material derived from the pre-UK singles originally issued by His Master’s Voice and EMI, but even as some hardliners apparently refuse to acknowledge the two London recorded LPs as “real” Funkees albums, Soundway chose to include all but one track from ’74’s Point of No Return and four from ’76’s Now I’m a Man.
The antipathy some express toward the albums might appear extreme, but it is based in a tangible shift, the music documented on the 45s reflecting an Igbo band forcefully and fruitfully relating to an Igbo audience as the LPs find them streamlining matters and reaching out to Western ears. Due to Point of No Return’s substantial presence on Dancing Time, the first album’s adjustments can be deduced as lesser but in no way fatal.
Until now, unless one paid high dollar for an original (there’s one for sale on Discogs right now for 470 bones) or nabbed a hand-ripped download from the web, Now I’m a Man was harder to assess. The nature of the borrowings on Dancing Time lent suspicions over the level of quality, and learning that only Mosco, lead guitarist Jake Sollo and drummer Chyke Madu remained from the group that made the London trek didn’t help; upon inspection, the verdict is that The Funkees’ final album is their weakest, but taken on its own terms it coheres into a more than adequate and occasionally quite enjoyable listen.
“Dancing Time” and “Slipping into Darkness” aside, early on The Funkees rarely sang in English, but the opening title track here is ripe with lyrics in their non-native tongue. However, the most immediately striking attribute in “Now I’m a Man” is its sun-dappled psych-tinged atmosphere, which starts out slow and relaxed as the intensity confidently quickens.
Stretching out to seven minutes and loaded with fiery guitar, the opener solidifies The Funkees’ Afro-rock bona fides even as its omission from Dancing Time isn’t hard to understand. “Korfisa” is even more divergent; though still flush with hand percussion and organ tones emphasizing groove, it simmers instead of working into the full-blown James Brown-style boil that distinguishes the initial singles.
They broke up prior to the disco impulse really catching fire, but “Dance with Me” still wafts vibes of the genre without abandoning a funky foundation; hearty overall, it’s still not difficult to comprehend why some fans of the Nigerian-era abandoned them. From there, “Mimbo,” which like “Dance with Me” will be familiar to owners of the Soundway comp, casts aside English and rides one of the LP’s best grooves. On Dancing Time, it lent some welcome contrast. Here it does the same, but to a different end.
Side two opens with the pop-dabbling and vocal harmony of “Patience,” but even here the band throws some attractive soloing into the cut’s latter portion. Next, “Salam” begins with a few phrases in English (“get together everybody,” “you’re bound to be happy”) before kicking into gear as they shift to Nigerian; if altered, the root of their home country essence is still tangible.
Unfortunately, this aura dissipates. Structurally unexceptional and far too pop-polite in execution, “Time” represents the LP’s low point as the overly busy and ultimately anonymous instrumental library music-styled funkiness of “303” (notably Dancing Time’s least engaging entry) improves matters very little for the close. But even amongst diminishing returns, the slighter and in some ways compromised Now I’m a Man possesses enough positive traits to warrant a pickup.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B
