Kanda Bongo Man review, Jazz and Blues Club, London: Sheer, infectious danceability
The mesmerising guitars and hip-swinging rhythms of Congolese soukous has captivated Western dance floors more than any other African music - with Kanda Bongo Man at the forefront
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.The mesmerising guitars and hip-swinging rhythms of Congolese soukous has captivated Western dance floors more than any other African music – with Kanda Bongo Man at the forefront.
As a performer, Kanda may lack the power of, say, Mali’s greatest, but more than makes up for it with the sheer infectious danceability of his tunes, over a career dating back over four decades.
Now well into his 60s, the soaring voice is still an asset at west London’s Nell’s Jazz and Blues Club, but this iconic frontman is a little stouter these days and doesn’t quite skip about the stage in the old style.
It was, therefore, an inspired move to invite along the captivating dancing skills of someone he introduced as Miss Toni, to really get the party going – and to deliver a delightful version of that Swahili classic Malaika, made famous by Miriam Makeba.
There was only one misstep. Kanda’s decision to invite up on stage an ageing, lifelong male fan who turned out to be possibly the worst dancer I’ve ever seen – and who then took some persuading to stop embarrassing the band and step back into the crowd.
Once he was gone, the night was rounded off with a gorgeous old favourite called Monie, released way back in 1991, which was greeted rapturously and sent everyone blaming all that irresistible rumba for their aching limbs.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments