Various Artists - Lagos Disco Inferno
Things look very different from halfway around the world. Back in the ‘70s stateside, funk and disco were, if not exactly on opposing teams, still definitively distinct. You might listen to and enjoy both Donna Summer and Funkadelic, but you wouldn’t confuse the two or necessarily expect them to share a bill.
Pull back as far as Nigeria, though, and suddenly the two genres start to be less distinct. Lagos Disco Inferno is, as it says on the tin, a chronicle of the little heard disco scene in Nigeria. And there are definitely some tracks that have that slicked-up cheesy disco vibe. Geraldo Pino’s “African Hustle” is all synth bleeps, dance-floor itch, and an over dramatic interjected “Orooja!” or two. The beat is still a little too real for Eurodisco, but only just. The Paradise Stars “Boogie Train”, with a lick copped straight from Chic, also sounds like the sort of thing you expect to hear on a record titled “Disco Inferno”.
Other tracks, though, start to wander towards different dance floors. MFB’s “Boredom Pain” is an easy shoulder shrugging groove. When they languidly announce “you can shake your bones/ or you can shake your flesh,” they’re talking more of a gentle shimmie rather than a full-body sweat — or at least that’s what it sounds like until the incongruous fuzz guitar solo interrupts halfway through. On “Dancing Machine” Tirogo announce that they’re “Talking about a lady that loves that discotheque,” and even go so far as to quote KC and the Sunshine Band. But the horn section is grittier than anything KC would allow on his tires, much less his album, and the burping bass just screams funk. It’s like listening to a rap artist declare unironically that he’s the king of R&B — which is to say, it’s a little disorienting.
What this all comes down to really is production. Disco on record was a producer-driven genre, with Giorgio Morodor or Patrick Adams or Boris Midney layering slick surfaces and processed everything over breathy vocals and assorted strings. Most of the tracks here, though, sound like the bands are playing live and working hard. On the final track, “Hang On,” Nana Love growls, shrieks, shouts, and spits her way through fourteen minutes of groove with an earthy, nasal urgency that would send Donna Summer scurrying back to musical theater. Lagos copied an insistently artificial pop form, and the way you can tell their reproduction is fake is that it sounds so darn authentic. As a result, if you love disco, disco, and only disco, this album might disappoint. If your tastes are just a little broader, though, you’re in for a very enjoyable 70 minutes.
Recommended Tracks: “African Hustle”, “Dancing Machine,” “Hang On”
