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I'll be honest, after listening to Electricity by the Ibibio Sound Machine, I couldn't help but exclaim: "Finally." After the post-dubstep hangover (and I'd even say post-everything), leaving behind some pretentious experiments, these Twenties of the Third Millennium are standing out for a greater concreteness from a musical point of view. It's nice to discover bands for which rhythm and club culture still have meaning, and the Ibibio Sound Machine definitely fall into this category.
The English group led by the charismatic Eno Williams has reached its fourth effort, the third released by Merge Records. For the occasion, they chose to collaborate with Hot Chip, who generously contributed to the mix of rock, electronics, and afrobeat in Electricity. With results, it must be said right away, that are absolutely positive.
The single "Protection from Evil" is an excellent calling card and it's no coincidence that it is placed at the beginning of the tracklist. It is a sort of summary, in which we find many elements of Electricity: the LCD Soundsystem-like sonorities, the bold attitude, the ethnic references in the lyrics, written in English and Ibibio (a language spoken by Eno Williams, born in London but of Nigerian descent).
The nods to Mother Africa are also present in the instrumentation: guitars, percussion, and flutes with a '70s flavor that hark back to the sound of the "black continent," but everything is blended into a globalized and multicultural melting pot, where funk meets new wave, Grace Jones, and even '90s house (as is the case with "Wanna See Your Face Again", one of the most captivating tracks of the album).
The commitment of the musicians and producers is remarkable, but that of the singer Eno Williams is no less. Her voice is capable of significant modulations, taking her from the spoken word of "Protection from Evil" to "Afo Ken Doko Mien", where she repeats the same words for the entire duration of the piece, accompanied by choirs and a suspended ambient backdrop. Her personality is perfectly expressed in "All That You Want", an excursion into disco that emphasizes her vocal power, or in "17 18 19", an unleashed punk-funk close to the atmospheres of Remain in Light and Nightclubbing.
The band doesn't pull the handbrake even in the second part of the LP: here we find "Truth No Lie", halfway between the New Order and Jamaican dub, the percussive triumph of "Oyoyo" (while listening to it I felt projected into a scenario similar to that of the cover of Sextant by Herbie Hancock) and "Almost Flying", suggestive and unmistakably '90s, especially for certain pulsating keyboards that recall the dance of that period (not to be underestimated is the splendid crescendo).
The concluding "Freedom" ventures into techno territories and underscores, once again, the liberation that groove and dance can bring. Another example of the typical anarchy of the Ibibio Sound Machine, which does not translate into disorder but into a willingness to explore the numerous nuances of dance music, without spatial or temporal limits.
Sure, Electricity may seem derivative to some, but it's a work that exudes incredible energy and teaches us an essential lesson: it's necessary to return to the essence of things, to immediacy, to positive vibrations. Ultimately, to art that moves with simplicity, without being forcibly difficult just because the current times are too.
"Let me speak from the heart, without love/There's no, no, no electricity," sings Eno Williams. How can one disagree?
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