There’s no way to understand his style better than to actually hear the music, and out of his massive discography there’s one track that proves the extremity of his groove: “Zombie.” It may be physically impossible to sit still while hearing this song; the fast and funky beat barely gets going before the horns come in, one sax playing frenetic lead and the rest backing it up with fills strong enough to startle. The vocals don’t even start until the 5:20 mark in the song, over two thirds of the way through. If listening to “Zombie” can’t convince you to dive deeper into his work (that can stretch to twenty and thirty minutes each, often with only two or three songs to an album), then there’s no hope for your soul.

Fela Kuti matched the bombastic horn blasts of his signature style with an outrageous flair for living on the edge. He established the Kalakuta Republic commune and maintained a five-year residency there, recording with Ginger Baker in 1972. His bands Koola Lobitos/Nigeria 70/Africa 70 and Egypt 80 were total powerhouses that ranked with the tightest groups ever assembled by James Brown. After the Nigerian military destroyed his commune, studio, master tapes and caused the death of his mother, he became a polygamist, potential Nigerian presidential candidate, and political prisoner who was freed due to international human rights group pressures.

Fela’s musical heirs are legion, but a man having such a presence (see: Bob Marley) leaves perhaps the biggest challenges to his direct descendants. How exactly does one follow an act like that? Fela Kuti’s oldest son, born 1962, is the heir apparent, though it’s a troubled position. Femi Kuti was a member of Fela’s band, so he’s got a legitimate claim as heir to the afrobeat dynasty. It’s an updated version of the sound with a cleaner approach that’s more tight jazz than ecstatic frenzy, and young Femi’s voice is even more nuanced than his father’s. “Beng Beng Beng”, off 1999’s Shoki Shoki shows off his chops nicely--he inherited the power to will people to dance, without the fuzzy grit in the sound.

Everything about him seems like a cleaner, more stable version of his father’s work: he lets his music speak for his social and political causes without the directly confrontational lifestyle. Femi Kuti chafes under his lot in life to always be his father’s son, conflicted over a desire to establish himself as his own person. His track lengths are more radio-friendly length, generally under 10 minutes. Femi Kuti has worked with Mos Def and Macy Gray, and his is the voice behind one of the DJs on the Grand Theft Auto IV video game (station IF99, or International Funk 99, to be exact).

As the youngest of Fela’s children (born in 1982), Seun Kuti didn’t have the same experience as Femi growing up and consequently celebrates his place in the family. Seun only sang in his father’s band beside his mother; she still performs as one of Seun’s singers. Seun reunited Egypt 80 for his first album, Seun Kuti + Fela’s Egypt 80 (2008), giving tribute to his father and indicating the continuity in the name.

Like his older brother, he puts his own mark on the style. He sings with the same intonations as his father but his voice lacks that otherworldly dimension. He’s clearly comfortable in the call and response style used widely in afrobeat, using the back and forth to generate energy and propel the songs forward. Appropriate to the age of Egypt 80, the music tends to be a little slower though still tight. Lyrically he reflects some of his other influences, which include hip-hop figureheads like Wyclef Jean, DMX and Eminem.

The political and social messages are still key to the music, but Seun’s approach better reflects the shift in perspective from the traditional aggressive stand for rights to a more reasoned “get up and think” approach. “Many Things”, the first track from the album, cites the corruption of the Nigerian regime that lies behind its supposed progress. “African Problems” and “The Mosquito Song” are clearly labeled, without the humor of Fela’s “Mr. Grammarticalogylisationalism Is the Boss”. Seun is clearly aiming to lead by example for Nigeria’s younger generations, a daunting task but one he’s trained for since birth.

As mentioned in the beginning, Fela Kuti has more followers than just his family. Afrobeat reaches far and wide, and its elements have found their way into the work of David Byrne, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Drums & Tuba, among many others. Coming more out of the straight afrobeat tradition are these three bands that are less well known and definitely deserve a wider audience.

The Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra merges afrobeat and Latin rhythms to achieve something that twists together the sounds for a more conscious understanding of the overall song composition: instead of the slow and steady buildup and faster finish of traditional afrobeat, this group often brings its songs back to the beginning for some symmetry.

Both Femi and Seun have appeared with them on stage, granting them some official stature. With their 2004 album Who Is This America? they break out of the straight Fela sound and step up the political content. Titles like “Pay Back Africa” (an instrumental) and “Big Man” give reveal general direction. Their lyrics, however, leave no ambiguity:

“For truth and justice freedom
You just serve the alliances
For liberating Iraq
I beg you give me the bill
A million dollar missing
When my child is hungry, oh
I make us safer safer
Safe from democracy
For your deregulation
Deregulate yourself
For all your plastic bottles
You bake me plastic food
Replace my gut with science
I throw my thoughts and dreams
I build am big man buildings
So you can do big man things”

This indictment of foreign sources of problems in Africa widens the traditional target of afrobeat, appropriate for a band based Brooklyn, NY.

Also out of New York, Kokolo combines afrobeat with house, rap and reggae sensibilities to form a very contemporary sound. Their cover of “Magnificent Seven” by The Clash is a vortex of influences that feed on each other like a snake biting its tail. Multiple vocalists drop in rhymes in a way that feels like traditional call and response. It’s an addictive and fresh pared-down version of the afrobeat sound, created with (a comparatively few) eight musicians.

They put out 12” releases on a regular basis for the DJ crowd and appear on several afrobeat compilations. Heavy Hustling, their latest full-length album, came out in February.

NOMO takes afrobeat into Latin polyrhythm and free jazz territory. One would not expect this kind of music to come out of Michigan. Their legion of performers (over 60 on all of their released recordings combined) keep the commune vibe strong, and the variety of instruments fill the tracks in interesting ways.

Electric kalimbas, mbiri, antique fire extinguishers, and bamboo flutes add texture to the usual rhythm and horn heavy sound. The contents are less political, however—a few tracks have topical names such as “Fourth Ward” or “Hand and Mouth”, but for the most part they are in it for the groove. NOMO’s newest album Invisible Cities just came out May 5th.

Far more bands could be listed here but Antibalas, Kokolo and NOMO have not strayed from the essential format and message. Afrobeat, much like its progenitor, has lasting power beyond its original context and continues to remain a relevant and active sound. For the sake of those oppressed or those just in search of some good dance music, it delivers us from evil.