Following his long-overdue release from Nigerian prison in 1986, Fela Kuti launched his first-ever US tour and performed at the Fox Theatre in downtown Detroit, which in prior years had played host to career-defining concerts by Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder. This 3-disc archival release was lovingly assembled and remastered from bootleg tapes of Fela's concert that evening, which was riding high with expectations and overflowing with positive energy.
For me personally, Live in Detroit 1986 has served as an ideal introduction to Fela Anikulapo Kuti's recordings with his Egypt 80 band. Fela's discography is massive—he lived and breathed music, recording more than 18 studio albums—and aside from common entry points like Expensive Shit, Zombie, and Coffin for Head of State, I had trouble figuring out where to head next. Obviously, Live in Detroit wasn't quite as eye-opening as the first time I heard Fela: as a college freshman leaving the safe haven of guitar-based independent music nearly a decade ago, I ventured not only into early electronic and industrial music (thanks to Brainwashed), but also into funk, soul, and jazz. Hearing Fela draw influence from those genres, as well as traditional African percussion, on pieces like "Expensive Shit" and "Zombie" was a revelation. The tracks on Live in Detroit are a natural progression from Fela's '70s material: lengthy, expansive, and freeform (Fela having been a voracious marijuana user, I suppose that only makes sense), frequently emphasizing the jazzy aspects of Fela's sound over his well-documented James Brown and funk influence.
Live in Detroit is notable for several reasons. Chief among them, it represents the first new Fela material to be issued since his 1992 swansong, Underground System. At the time of this concert, Fela had been granted amnesty from a prison stint on false charges of "currency trafficking" (he was freed after two years with help from Amnesty International) and was finally able to launch a debut US tour with Egypt 80. Detroit's Fox Theatre was perhaps the most anticipated stop on the tour: the performing arts center had hosted Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye in their prime, as well as legendary performances by Elvis Presley even earlier. For Fela, this was one of his first big performances on US soil—his Africa 70 band never made it across the pond—and a triumphant return to the spotlight after his prison release. (Though not really "popular" by most measuring sticks, it is impossible to argue with Fela's status as one of Nigeria's best-known and most enduring musicians.)
With a keen sense of humor, Fela comments on his misfortune as he kicks off the concert: "You going your way, mind your business, you didn't do shit, didn't do nothing... next thing, you're in prison, man—just like that." The crowd roars in agreement, and Fela continues: "In my country, things happen just like that," and clarifies that he's referring not only to Nigeria, where he was wrongfully imprisoned, but to all of his "country," Africa. Fela's music was almost always politically charged, a voice of protest in the face of human injustice across Africa, but that's easy to forget as the music kicks in. During "Just Like That," the persistent rhythm section of Fela's Egypt 80 band lays the groundwork for a sprawling performance that cycles through keyboard vamps, trumpet and saxophone solos, poly-rhythmic drumming, chanted background vocals as if from a church choir, and call-and-response interaction with the elated crowd. The performance is brimming with tangible positive energy due to Fela's showmanship. The man who recorded the show, Bob Teagan, recalls that Fela was "dancing all across the massive stage and inciting the crowd to move with him. [...] It was like seeing Bob Marley, Frank Sinatra, Michael Jackson, Marvin Gaye, and James Brown all rolled into one."
As the evening unfolds, it becomes apparent that Fela is placing focus squarely on his new and then-unreleased material. Each of these songs was among the first Fela wrote upon gaining his freedom: "Teacher Don't Teach Me Nonsense" and "Just Like That" were released on his 1986 album Teacher Don't Teach Me Nonsense. The show's energetic, 35-minute closer, "Beast of No Nation," was eventually recorded for 1989's Beasts of No Nation, while "Confusion Break Bones" finally saw the light of day on 1990's O.D.O.O., one of Fela's final studio albums before passing away of AIDS complications in 1997. This focus on all-new material in the set list shows a man unafraid to push forward with his music. Fela clearly considered Egypt 80 to be a wholly separate entity from Africa 70 a decade prior, with which he recorded his best known, and most politically provocative, music.
The sound quality on Live in Detroit is rich and nicely mastered, especially given its prior status as a bootleg crowd recording. Quieter moments are shot through with occasional crowd chatter and clapping, and at times throughout the performance, the crowd roars in approval while the music stays constant, and it's clear Fela is engaging with the audience in ways that would be better captured on film, not an audio recording. Though never dull, the sprawling nature of Live in Detroit can, at times, seem like an endurance test: four songs, two-and-a-half hours, and a couple spoken-word interludes from Fela. My inclination has been to play one of the discs on repeat: for example, getting engulfed in 40 minutes of "Confusion Break Bones" as if listening to ambient music that just happens to encompass elements of funk, jazz, and African music. None of this is to say that Live in Detroit isn't worth picking up—especially as a gateway to Fela's less canonized '80s music—but that listening to these CDs, as with all live recordings, isn't quite the same as being there.
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