KING SUNNY ADE

Odu (Atlantic)

IF YOU thought that Nigeria was all assassinated leaders and people shouting to be heard over the noise of their clothes, then take a listen to the King of Juju, Sunny Ade. Because this is a man blessed with more rhythms than Joaquin Cortez, more blissed-out chants than a hall-full of Orangemen, and a smile that’d crack the dourest of countenances.

He’s been making records for some 30 years now and there’s still no sign of him flagging. He tells us that Juju music is the music of broad social messages. It’s rooted in an ancient Yoruba tradition of conveying profound messages through timeless proverbs – and boy, does he know how to sock it where it sticks. And that’s just listening to the Yoruba sounds, the pulsating beat that follows no colour-by-numbers path known to our Western ears.

It’s difficult to imagine what impact it might have on ears more attuned to the meaning of the lyrics, but chances are, the multiplier effect would have it coasting through the veins, in need of a sledgehammer to be extricated from the memory.

So, whether you’re in search of a rapid exit from the blues, or a quick pick-me-up, you’ll find it in Odu. ‘Kiti Kiti’ glistens under the hot sun of talking drums, maracas and steel guitar, while ‘Ibi Won Ri O’ and ‘Kawa To Bere’ meld effortlessly in a nine-minute cascade of otherworldly male harmonies.

Inevitably uplifting, invariably revealing surprises, Odu offers something that few others do: a chance to step outside the usual linguistic ties that bind us. This album is a sharp intake of breath that’ll leave you gasping for more.

Siobhán Long