Kampala — FATE dealt music fans a cruel blow with the 1989 death of Franco Luambo Makiadi. He was one of the pace-setters of African jazz. In continuation to last week's feature on the life and times of Franco, Francis Batte explores the music that made the King of Rumba peerless in Africa and beyond

For most young fans of African jazz today the name Franco does not ring a bell. Their music tastes don't go deeper than the surface thrills from the latest crappy, bubble gum-like pop songs.

These songs are released by equally young upstarts with colourful but stupid-sounding names like Mozey Radio and Weasel TV, no insult meant boys. To them, Franco Luambo Makiadi is a relic of the past. His music, too, belongs to a bygone era.

It is 20 years since Le Grand Maître Luambo Makiadi Franco, passed on. Since then we have danced to a cross-fertilised brand churned by Tabu Ley Rochereau, the high-tech Rumba of Koffi Olomide and a couple of years ago we were pumping our waists like pistons to the frenetic soukous of Kanda Bongo man and Company.

But none of that music can match the appeal that was created by Franco Luambo Makiadi's Rumba Congolaise music which dominated African popular music scene in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s.

TPOK Jazz band can best be described, too, as the most influential African band at the time.

Strangely though, his music still sounds as infectious today as it did in the 1970s and 1980s. I still remember an incident in which his music turned a local pub upside down.

The year was 1982, 1983 or thereabouts. The place? A local watering joint in Busamaga village, Mbale District, that sold the frothy malwa brew, banana wine (tonto) and the fiery enguli (crude waragi). Beer was a rare commodity at the time.

Among the many songs that the DJ spun on the record player that evening was Franco's marvellous single Tres Empoli. As soon as its Rumba tic strains wafted from the speakers, the blood of the drunken patrons started pumping.

They scrambled for the little dancing space in the pub. Along the way, they knocked each other's drinks off the small tables as they swayed to the infectious beat of the music.

They sung along to it at the top of their lungs in lazy drunken drawls: Bolingo nayo tres empoli yeee... yeee... Bolingo nayo tres empoli...yee yee....... Off tune and off beat of course. It was indeed memorable.

FRANCO'S STYLE

Franco was a stubborn musician. An attentive listener can note too, that while his closest rival Tabu Ley has always been open to diverse influences - Latin music, American soul, Country, Rock 'n' Roll and as well as African traditions, Franco was rarely imitative.

He even refused to embrace the slick, high-energy Soukous that was being rolled out so gorgeously in Paris in the 1980s and had catapulted the likes of Kanda Bongoman and Zaiko Langa Langa to fame.

His style remained a rich blend of Cuban Rumba and authentic Congolese rhythms. The format was like this - the song starts an electric guitar which gives a cheerful, instantly catchy pattern.

During the repeat, other guitars usually four - lead, rhythm, mi-compose and bass breeze in and join Franco's fluid guitar creating a joyful sound.

Then the drums roll in and the high-hat cymbals strike up a light-footed beat. Four voices in tight harmony take up the song, singing in an easy-on-the-ears Lingala.

Asked to define his music he always described it as Odemba, a ritual Congolese dance (according to some; others say the term was his own creation).

When you listen to Franco sing, there is no doubt that he had a rough voice.

But still we fell in love with him, especially on the stunning duets with a singer endowed with tremulous vibrato called Jean de Dieu Makiese popularly known as Madilu System, most notably on Mario in 1985.

This song also showcased Madilu as one of the brightest vocal talents of TPOK Jazz band.

RIVAL TABU LEY

There is doubt Franco was a pillar of Lingala music. But Tabu Ley is the man who gave Franco a run for his money. He was his biggest rival.

Their music styles were incompatible: Tabu Ley's music tended to be smooth whereas Franco's was rough. Franco who had dropped out school at primary level and wrote songs with explicit lyrics was viewed as vulgar while Tabu Ley was seen as a sophisticated intellectual. Most fans loved both of them.

Most interestingly, Tabu Ley actually sang briefly (but did not record) with O.K. Jazz before Kalle Kabasele recruited him to join his African Jazz in 1959.

Fans in Congo, encouraged by the local press, told stories of an intense rivalry between Franco and Tabu Ley. But this rivalry came about as result of being leaders of the two most successful Congolese bands at the time.

They competed for the best musicians on the local scene, but the biggest offender was always Franco.

He poached smooth-voiced Sam Mangwa from Tabu Ley's Afrisa International. However, though their competition was sometimes stiff, privately they were friends.

When Kallé Kabasele died in 1983, Franco and Tabu Ley got together to record an album titled Kabasele in Memoriam.

In the end, they recorded two more complete albums (one released under Franco's label, the other under Tabu Ley's) with musicians from both bands.

COMING TO UGANDA

Franco and TPOK Jazz came to Uganda twice. The first time was in the 1960s and the last time he performed in Uganda was in 1983.

In 1983, Franco and his TPOK Jazz first performed at Lugogo Indoor Stadium but after the show he noted that the crowd did not respond very well to his music.

The next day, Franco inquired why the reception was lukewarm, he was duly informed that it is because there was no MC to help create that good ambience.

So, during the next gig at Nakivubo stadium, Andrew Luwandagga, Moses Matovu's young brother, was hired as the MC.

Franco's last show in Uganda was held at Lido Beach. Afrigo Band did the curtain raising show. Matovu still remembers that day vividly.

"We were the only band that opened the show at Lido Beach for Franco that day. We warmed the crowed with songs like 'Ekazzi Ekadde' and 'Afrigo Batuuse.'

"However, Franco noted that all through our performance we did not employ a rhythm guitar. The rhythm guitarist Eddy Ganja had left us, so we had substituted the rhythm guitar with keyboard which was played by Godfrey Mwambala.

"Franco never liked the sound of keyboards. He advised us not to discard the rhythm guitar, especially in the style of music that we perform. It is one of the best advices that we ever received.

Franco had noted something more about Afrigo band. The following day he sent an emissary to me. He said, Franco wanted to speak to me so we drove to Speke Hotel where he had been booked.

I could not speak Lingala or French so we used one of his band members as an interpreter. Franco spoke to me in Lingala and the interpreter relayed the information to me in Swahili, which I speak.

"Franco said he loved the way I played the saxophone. He then asked whether I would like to join his (TPOK) band. I told him I couldn't. I explained that I was the band leader of Afrigo and so I could not abandon the band just like that and besides, I had a family to look after. He said, 'Okay, may be we will meet again one day.'"

From then on, Afrigo became a great fan of Franco. If you catch them live on stage at Bat Valley on Bombo Road in Kampala, you will notice that their play-list includes several of Franco's songs like Mamou which they play flawlessly note-for-note.

Franco's made music to be danced to and easy to sing along. The same can be said of Afrigo's groovy Endongo semadongo style. They are as tight and disciplined on stage as Franco's TPOK band.

During their shows, they also produce a big live band sound made up of tight brass section, percussion, guitars and keyboards making it a joy to listen to. That, perhaps, explains the cult following they enjoy in the country.

MARIO

The exact number of songs Franco recorded over a span of 36 years is contested. However, it is estimated that he may have recorded at least 1,250.

Several turned out to be instant hits.

Songs like 12,600 Letters, Mamou and Très Empoli, the latter being an attack against men who raid their friends' refrigerators and show the holes in their smelly socks, stand out as some of the songs that turned him into a household name in Africa.

But if we are to pick out an all-time hit, then Mario clearly stands out. This song was not only TPOK jazz biggest hit, it is also what made Madilu System the group's most popular singer.

There are two versions of Mario and both were recorded in Libreville, Gabon, during TPOK Jazz's three-week engagement there in 1985 and later mixed in Brussels.

Both versions were released almost simultaneously with the same title on separate LPs that looked alike. It was not easy to differentiate the two A-sides.

The resulting confusion diminished both albums' commercial potential, but nevertheless Mario proved to be the biggest hit of Franco's long, hit-studded career.

In both versions Madilu sings more or less the same vocal parts, while Franco speaks extemporaneously and seldom repeats himself in either version.

In the second one (which Franco begins by intoning "O Rioma" instead of "O Mario") Josky sings a couple of choruses that are missing in the first one.

Each is about 14 minutes long and uses the same instrumental tracks - four guitars (Papa Noel on lead), two soprano saxophones, two muted trumpets, and various percussions, some of it programmed - but in a different mix.

Given that Mario, in either version, is such a long, wordy song in a language unfamiliar outside of Central Africa, its international popularity is remarkable.

WHAT BECAME OF TPOK BAND?

What happened to Franco's band? Good question. At their peak, le Tout Pouissant Orchestre Kinois (the All-Powerful Kinshasa Orchestra) really justified their grandiose name; they numbered around 40 musicians, half of whom would stay in Kinshasa holding sway at one of two venues Franco owned, while the other half went on tour. Each band was very well equipped.

However, Franco's death in 1989 was the blow from which his massive band never recovered. TPOK Jazz made efforts to carry on, as Franco wished, under Simaro Lutumba's leadership, but despite the respect that was given to him, Simaro lacked the shrewdness that was necessary to balance all the egos in the band and to fend off the many conflicting commercial, legal and inheritance claims to Franco's very complicated estate.

At the end of 1993 TPOK Jazz disbanded. Various remnants continued to work as Bana OK or, more recently, Odemba OK Jazz All-Stars, but their strengths could only hope to match the breadth and depth of Tout Puissant OK Jazz.

And of course Franco was irreplaceable. Any band that performed his music, however admirably, would have a huge vacancy at its centre.

Poet Simaro, who was one of the stalwarts of the band took most members of TPOK band and formed Bana OK (Children of OK Jazz) in Kinshasa at the start of 1994.

But of the more than 100 musicians that played with Franco, most have followed him to the grave. Among their survivors are, Simaro, Dele, Sam Mangwana, Josky Kiambukuta, Wuta-Mayi, Gégé Mangaya, Michelino, Flavian Makabi, Papa Noel, Dizzy Mandjeku and Malage de Lugendo.

Madilu Sytem pursued a moderately successful solo career in Europe. He divided his time between Paris and Kinshasa, working mostly with expatriate Congolese musicians to carry on Franco's classic Odemba style of Rumba on a series of solo albums, backed variously by bands like Multi-Système, OK Système and Tout Puissant Système.

His solo career which started in 1994 with the zouk-flavoured Sans Commentaire, saw him release other solo efforts like Album '95' (1995), L'eau (1999), Pouvoir (2000), Tenant du Titre (2003), and Bonheur (2004).

Initially, he achieved recognition as Le fils spirituel de Luambo Makiadi Franco (Franco's spiritual heir). His last album was Le Bonne Humeur (2007). On August 11, 2007 he also passed on.

When Franco died, late President Mobutu posthumously gave him the honour 'Commander of the Order of the Leopard.'

But for us, we will always simply remember as: Franco. For there will always be one Franco, the King of Congolese Rumba. Rest in peace Le Maestro.

Music for all

Franco played music that everybody could enjoy. His music was accessible. His appeal also lay in his handsome looks and his common-man accessibility.

To the fans who could speak Lingala, like my good friend Asuman Bisiika, he was teacher and a preacher. He was a very keen observer, a champion and critic of Congolese society.

He wrote his lyrics in Lingala which were always full of social, often satirical commentary with texts that were full of hidden and not-so-hidden agendas. But his favourite topic was the eternal conflict between men and women.

Franco was always a troublemaker and not afraid to pick fights with government officials or profit-skimming businessmen for which he occasionally found himself in jail or in exile.

He created a style called Bwakela where he used metaphors, parables and satire to address controversial subjects.

For example, on the surface, the song "Liberté" is about getting free of a domineering wife. However, it is believed that the coded message in there was about more fundamental liberties.

Neither is Tailleur really about a tailor who has lost his needle; it was a masked reference to Mobutu's sycophantic Prime Minister.

By matching provocative lyrics to irresistible groovy music, he became so influential in his country that even the then Zairean dictator, Mobutu Sese-Seko, recognized his power, feared it, tried constantly to control it and sometimes succeeded in using it to his advantage.

Congolese loved Franco because at the time when Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) was going through political turmoil, and as Mobutu and his cohorts were lining their pocket with public funds, the dismayed ordinary Congolese could only get consolation from these hidden messages in Franco's music for it contributed to their psychological wellbeing.

Franco was a fruit of the government's drive to promote authentic Congolese culture. When you listen to the words in his songs, you will note too that he was nationalistic in nature and thus in line with President Mobutu's Africa-first, anti-colonial authenticité rhetoric.

What does Mario mean?

Congolese had a field day interpreting Mario. An over-educated lazybones thriving on someone else's money - who could that be? And who (or what) did the woman represent? Many listeners were sure Mario was political satire. Some said it a sly depiction of the relationship between Franco and Mobutu.

Franco, who was a well-known Mobutu stooge, had recorded Candidat na biso Mobutu (Mobutu is our candidate) for the previous year's uncontested presidential election, but rumours had it that the two big men had already fallen out again.

But again if Mario was about Franco and Mobutu, who was the widow and who was the gigolo?

More likely the song was not subtle Mbwakela, but the kind of undisguised social portraiture that Franco excelled at. Mario and his mistress embodied two new classes in Congolese society, particularly in Kinshasa: the educated elite that did little for the betterment of the country, and women with some wealth and therefore an unprecedented degree of independence.

Franco, who had no education to speak of and was not known as a feminist, poked holes at all pretensions, but this time around he clearly sided with the women.

The meaning of the words aside, there was the groove which heightened Franco's hypnotic flowing guitar riff, his spoken word exhortations, Madilu's precise singing, and that was what we the non-Congolese understood about Mario.

When it was released, suddenly people who didn't know anything about Franco wanted to hear more of him.

In Europe large crowds turned out to see him perform with his now famous band in a series of concerts between 1985 and 1986.

The interesting thing about Mario is though it enchanted millions of listeners around the world it was not Rumba. It did not have that classic Rumba format - an intro, a pause mid-way, to prepare you for the climax to come.

Neither was it soukous because there is no rhythmic shift When asked what kind of music style Mario was, Franco said it was crafted in a traditional ritual dance called Odemba.

However, the song does not sound like a ritual dance either. In Congo, Mario appealed more to Lingala-speaking women.

That is not surprising because it takes a woman's view of a man unworthy of her affections. The woman (played by both Franco and Madilu) is a wealthy widow, and Mario is the younger man she regrets taking as her lover.

When translated into English it goes like this: "Today, problems; tomorrow, problems. I'm so tired. Today, quarrels; tomorrow, rows. I've had enough of this.

She unburdens herself of a long litany of complaints: "Mario has five diplomas but can't be bothered to get a job... He lets his parents think he supports me, but I'm the one who clothes him, feeds him and houses him...

"After wrecking my Mercedes, he expects me to buy him a new car... My bed's not comfortable enough for you? Earn some money so you can buy one for yourself...

Here, Mario, take the Valentino suit as a souvenir of our romance, and get out of my house. Go now!"