This article was prepared by Richard J. Skelly for the May 11, 2005 issue of U.S. 1 Newspaper. All rights reserved.
'Oyaya!" the title of Angelique Kidjo's current release on Columbia Records, means "joy" in Yoruba, the native language of the West African vocalist. In a telephone interview from her Brooklyn home, Kidjo is joyous and fast-talking, and her shows are similarly fast-paced, percussion-heavy affairs.
"I want to give back through the music," Kidjo says, "and 'Oyaya!' is part of a trilogy of albums I started back in 1997. They look at the roots of African and pop music today."
Kidjo's diversity as a vocalist and entertainer garnered her a part in a "Salute to the Blues" concert held at Radio City Music Hall in February, 2003. The concert marked the start of "The Year of the Blues" - 100 years since W.C. Handy first began writing blues songs. The film from that concert, "Lightning in a Bottle," starring Kidjo, Buddy Guy, B.B. King, Keb' Mo,' and others, will be released this fall.
But what Kidjo and her band do can best be described as world music, not American blues. Kidjo appears at McCarter Theater on Friday, May 13, accompanied by her musical director and guitarist Ruben De la Corte, percussionist and drummer Latabi Diouani, pianist Thierry Vaton, and bassist Stephane Castry.
"I'm always amazed to see the power of music and how it drives the best in us; when good music comes, everybody is beautiful. And that has been my whole life's work since I started singing: there is only one human race, and I'm trying to emphasize that in all my work," Kidjo says. "For me, music is a way to remember how little we are, how we have to be thankful every day when we wake up in good health and we have that blessing, to make sure we are close to the people who inspire us."
Kidjo made a name for herself, even before her move to America in 1997, with her brilliant fusing and cross-pollination of West African traditional music with American R&B, funk, blues and jazz, while blending in her influences from Europe and Latin America.
"Oyaya!" integrates African and French lyrics to music from the Caribbean, and Kidjo explores a range of indigenous Caribbean styles, including salsa, calypso, merengue and ska. She sings in French, English, Yoruba, and Fon, another West African language. The album was produced by Steve Berlin, who has worked with the Mexican-American rock group Los Lobos and the Tex-Mex group Los Super Seven. "Oyaya!" is dedicated to Timothy White, a former Billboard magazine editor who died suddenly several years ago from a heart attack. White, a thoroughly knowledgeable music writer and historian, was a steadfast supporter of Kidjo's work for years, as was Island Records founder Chris Blackwell. Since her career got rolling in the early 1990s with Island, Kidjo has shared stages with Carlos Santana, Cassandra Wilson, the Dave Matthews Band, and Miriam Makeba, among others.
Raised in Benin, a country in West Africa between Togo and Nigeria, Kidjo was number seven in a family of nine children, and the last girl. "I grew up with sports, music, and arts in general, and always, reading lots of books. Both my parents were only children. My father had a sister who died when he was very young, so we were all, and still are, very close. We were told we could come back to the house with any topics for discussion. We discussed things a lot.
When I asked later about why her parent had such a large family, Kidjo says her parents said they didn't plan to have so many kids, but realized how fragile life is. "And in Africa, you have to realize, not all infants survive. My mom had 14 pregnancies to have us nine kids."
Fortunately, Kidjo's father ran the post office in Benin. Her mother was a theater director and started the first theater group in Benin. "She mixed the theater with ballet, and that's how I started at six years old," Kidjo says. In addition to her theater job, her mother made additional income by running a fabric shop.
"My mom introduced me to singing, dancing and acting," Kidjo says, "and my dad used to play banjo for us. He was probably the only person in all of West Africa who even had a banjo, much less played one. Years later, I thought, how the hell did he get hooked up with a banjo?"
Turns out her father got his banjo when he went away to France to boarding school, says Kidjo. A French student at his boarding school taught him to play. "When we were kids, my dad used to play Harry Belafonte and all these other old songs on banjo, and he knew some Spanish tunes and songs from a couple of really big movies as well."
Kidjo didn't get her first big break until after she dropped out of law school in Paris. She went to music school instead and followed her passion. She made her singing debut in Germany in 1988. "I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, and I realized that law and justice don't often go hand in hand. I realized in order for me to a be a good lawyer I would have to learn politics as well, because law is used to balance the unfairness of life," she says. "When I realized that, I ran away from law school and went to a classical music school for two years. Then I went to a jazz school for three years."
Interestingly, she had her first brush with racist attitudes at the first music college she attended in Paris. "People of African origin in general have a tough time finding jobs in France," she says, "and I realized the classical school I was at initially was mainly intended for Caucasians. So I left and went to study jazz instead."
In general, the uptight Parisians, she argues, "need to be more open-minded about the differences in people, and they believe much of their unemployment problem has to do with too many immigrants coming into the country. These are some of the backwards attitudes some of the educated French people still hold onto. I mean, c'mon, this is the 21st century, time to get your shit together," she says, in a rare flash of bitterness.
Fortunately for America, Kidjo moved to Manhattan in 1997 and a year later to Brooklyn, where the diversity of cultures will not question her or her husband's ethnic backgrounds. She married [Caucasian] Parisian Jean Hebrial in 1987 in Paris.
"I had been coming to America to tour, but the decision to come to America was inspired by this trilogy of albums I wanted to record, and also, my husband wanted very badly to come here. He could so not stand the snobby attitudes of his fellow Parisians."
Kidjo also credits White, the late Billboard editor, and Blackwell, with prompting her to move to America, as well as her husband, a bassist with whom she writes much of her music. Even though he stopped touring with her some time ago, he handles her business affairs when she is on the road, preferring to stay at home in Brooklyn. "Still, he practices bass every day," she says.
"We've been married for 18 years now, and sometimes we act like an old couple," she says. "Yes, I married a French man and I fell in love. Love is a weird thing and an unpredictable thing, and thank God we can't control it! As soon as we can control something, we destroy it, it seems."
In 1996, when Kidjo had become something of an international singing sensation, she returned to her native Benin to perform. "I went back after 14 years, and it was amazing. It was overwhelming. I had to perform in a stadium, and frankly, it was scary, because the people, they all want to touch you. Can you imagine being touched by 30,000 people? The whole stadium stood up as soon as the lights came on," she recalls.
Now she visits relatives at least once a year, if not twice, "because my parents and aunts and uncles are all getting older and things happen fast. I remember I lost a member of my family and came back one year expecting to see that person, only to be told he died from some stupid thing like dysentery," she says.
'Oremi," her first album for Columbia, explored the roots of African-American and country music, while "Black Ivory Soul" delved into music from Brazil. "Oyaya!," released last spring, completes the trilogy of albums and explores the musical styles of the Caribbean.
Now that she has completed her trilogy of albums for Columbia/ Sony Music and the obligations of her contract, Kidjo is not sure what her next move will be. It may involve releasing her next album independently. "I'm thinking about all the different options," she says. "I have always been with a big label, even before, in the 1990s, with Island Records. But I may release my next album independently. I'm writing more music now, as we speak, and I'm just following my inspiration at the moment," she says. "You must always follow your inspiration, you can't compromise that at all."
Not surprisingly, Kidjo isn't at all afraid to mix politics into her live shows or her albums. She's always spoken her mind. "Since 9/11, I've noticed that everybody seems to be living in fear; we should be joyful instead," she argues.
"It's another way of seeing life. We can be joyful and still fight terrorism. Joyful music makes us want to move but when you are afraid the terrorists have already won 50 percent of the battle," she says.
"I travel around the world, and I can feel the fear. We can't afford even one minute of fear; I won't allow any of these Al-Queda wackos to come into play in my life. They don't have the right to play with anybody's life. You cannot kill in the name of God! In which religion is it written that you can kill in the name of God?"