Live Review: Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra

"This is a vegetarian show," says band spokesman and bari-sax player Martin Perna, and he explains what he means by asking for no hams, hot dogs, meatheads, or chickenhead-type behavior from the audience. With the venue packed to the point of suffocation during the first set of Antibalas' return to Chicago, Perna and his mates ask a lot of their fans -- not only to be cool to the people immediately around them, but to think about their fellow man, the impact of one's profession, the many causes worthy of support, and people long dead and far away from ground zero of tonight's booty shaking.

Plus, the crowd is drafted to be the 13th member of the band -- Antibalas can sometimes balloon to 20-plus members at any of their tireless gigs around the world or at home in Brooklyn. Reflecting the tight floor space, the stage is stuffed elbow-to-elbow with 12 musicians who can't exactly dance so much as sway, but with a tough, enthusiastic vibe that makes up for stuffy venue conditions.

Like Perna says, there's enough drama in the world today, so the only confrontations Antibalas want to create are between the ears and the conscience, between dance-partner hips and the groove flowing through the kind of vintage Fela Kuti-styled Afrobeat that the band inhabits. Their latest CD, Talkatif, bears a strange name for the set's largely instrumental feel (even when vocals are involved), but their thematic, spare political suggestion on disc contrasts the smooth mini-speeches during the show that are met with grateful cheers. And listeners are more than happy to participate in the call-and-response choral bursts led by Perna and vocalist Duke Amayo. During a rendition of "Nyash" from the new album, Amayo plays a Simon-Says kind of game with the audience, shuffling vocally between "left and right, right and left, no matter love or hate, you got to move your Nyash!"

The second set builds slowly, and more space clears as some people seem to have been wiped out by dancing. Antibalas stick closely to their sources, calling Fela Kuti "the one and only godfather," but referring still to that other influence, James Brown. Fans might not buy everything they say or even understand all the words, but when Amayo asks (on "Talkatif") "can you walk dem talk, talk dem walk?" the answer gets summed up in a percussive "yeah yeah," bringing the politics back down to the basics of rhythm, jazzy solos, and communal chant that keep everyone shimmying together.

29 March 2002, Illinois Entertainer

Posted by Benjamin at June 20, 2004 11:18 PM
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