By David Forsdike
Three years ago Zambian-born singer Namvula returned to the country of her birth on an extended visit. Born to a Zambian mother and Scottish father she was keen to discover the traditional music of her mother’s land.
Even for those of us in the West who enjoy African music, the names of Zambian musicians don’t exactly trip off the tongue, but it turns out Namvula’s aunt, Maureen Lilanda is something of a local singing legend, and was well placed to help her niece in her quest.
Back in London, where she now lives, Namvula has gathered around her a talented group of instrumentalists, releasing her debut album Shiwezwa in 2014. On Tuesday night, in company of five fine instrumentalists, Namvula gave the audience in York’s National Centre for Early Music an evening to remember with a selection of songs drawn mainly from last year’s album. The music was more Afro-funk than Afro-folk - perhaps not surprisingly, as two of the members of her accompanying band, the bass player Liran Donin and saxophonist Chris Williams are more accustomed to playing in a London jazz group called Led Bib. They were joined by Senegalese percussionist Mamadou Sarr, who regularly plays with Baaba Maal, and the session musician and composer Jack Ross on guitar.
The songs themselves were either quiet and reflective in nature, or lively, upbeat numbers which allowed the instrumentalists free rein to strut their stuff, both as a band, and as virtuoso soloists when given a chance to shine. The opening song, a prayer for ‘those who have gone before’, and a later one in celebration of her great grandmother, were fine examples of the first type.
Namvula accompanied herself on acoustic guitar, and sang in both English and the Zambian language of her mother’s province. Her voice is a rich and powerful mezzo, at times reminiscent of Miriam Makeba in style, and the only regret is that I’d like to have heard a little more of her singing, and a little less of the band. But that’s perhaps missing the point here, as Namvula seems to relish the interplay with members of the band, and clearly thrives by feeding off them.
The song Na Ndayeya, written by the aforementioned aunt, seemed to sum up the evening best. It’s about suffering and hard times, but also about resolve, and the capacity to survive those hardships. It began in a gentle, reflective way, but when the instruments came thundering in, the sudden surge in volume and full-blooded playing transported us into a world of optimism as only jazz-funk musicians can.
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| Photo by Steve Sweet |
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