Today the American network NBC announced publicly that friend (and contributor) of Africa is a Country, Ashoka Mukpo, is the freelance journalist who has been diagnosed with Ebola and is being flown to the United States for treatment (read Ashoka's thoughts on the root causes of the crisis here on Africa is a Country on September 23rd). As a sort of get well card, I think it's fitting for us to post the below video, recently shot by Ashoka, of Ebola songs performed at Pan-African beach in Monrovia. I know Liberian music is a great passion of his, it was through a shared interest in Monrovia's Hipco scene that we first met in Liberia in 2011. After elections he stayed on in the country doing freelance work particularly around workers rights, but had recently returned to the states. This summer he hopped on a plane and decided to go back and help disseminate truth about the Ebola crisis (rather than the hysteria that tends to accompany the coverage of crisis in West Africa.) He had been doing a wonderful job of it. We wish him a speedy recovery and return to action! http://youtu.be/kFhfp14vZY0

Today the 2014 World Cup in Brazil ends. It was a fun ride, and I don't think that anyone will disagree that this has been an unforgettable month of international sport, politics, and drama both on and off the field. The video below is my attempt at showing another side of Rio de Janeiro and a few of the contrasting faces of this megacity. It takes place in different locations in the city on three different days of the World Cup:

In doing these periodic reports from Brazil on Africa is a Country, I set out to try and show a side of the country that perhaps would go under covered in the mainstream media. I suspected back in February that visitors to the country would be perplexed by its unique local nuances and many contradictions. Luckily there have been some great local projects and organizations working to amplify underrepresented voices in the country. However, while there has been some great reporting on the ground, the country's inequality (especially evident in the areas where FIFA activity was concentrated), its team's ugly and violent play on the field, and their embarrassing loss to the Germans have contributed to a growing unease with Brazil as a growing global super power, and perennial footballing one.

I, for one, can't help but feel that feelings of unease towards certain more-visible aspects of the country just work to continue to marginalize those less-visible aspects of the country that we may learn from or find solidarity with. Brazil has been described to me by friends as the country of a future that never quite seems to arrive. This is what the mainstream media is referring to when they say Brazilians are mourning the death of a dream in the wake of their loss to Germany. But, we've been here before.

While some Brazilians use the Minerazo as a place to channel their frustration, for many others their government's deals with an international body like FIFA in the run up to the Cup was all they needed show that the dream wasn't being realized. For even others yet, the death of such a dream is a reality that renews daily, regardless of any mega event, as they come up against a host of impermeable social boundaries.

The supposed collective inferiority complex that seems to continually characterize Brazil is something that I can relate to in my own way... Ultimately, in the game of (both personal and national) global belonging I am not just ready for some new winners, I'm ready for new rules. Because those dreams that plague the Brazilian people (and in-betweeners such as myself,) at their worse cause a state of limbo for the dreamer, forcing them to await their ultimate judgement from those who made up the rules.

Tomorrow, after everyone else has gone home, that's the state that Brazil will be left in, again.

With the increased attention on Brazil since the Cup started, I've noticed non-Brazilians trying to figure out what exactly is going on with Brazilian racial politics. I'll tell you it's not an easy task. It's taken me months to grasp even an idea of what's going on with race while learning the culture, the language, and the layout of my new city. A mixed raced person myself, one who is often taken as Brazilian on the streets (until I open my mouth), I've eventually come to understand the national myth of a singular Brazilian identity made up of different races from around the entire world. But if we outsiders look at Neymar Jr. and seem him as black, and he really is a disappearing donkey, than what does blackness in Brazil look like? Well it may look something like this: This scene, that looks like it could take place in any U.S. city, is Baile Charme. The above video takes place in Madureira, a neighborhood with an historical Afro-Brazilian community in Rio's North Zone, and the epicenter of the Baile Charme movement. The coordinated dances to smooth American R&B tunes seemed out of place when I first saw them in Rio. But after understanding that this North American expression of blackness was one of the few places for black-identifying people in the city to congregate, I realized that such a movement was actually somewhat of a political statement. The mission statement of the Baile Black Bom party at Pedra do Sal explicitly states that they, "are a Baile Black who's purpose is to valorize black culture through music, literature, and afro-entrepreneurship." Granted, Samba is ostensibly Afro-Brazilian, and many of its stars are black Brazilians. However, with the help of the Estado Novo, it was fully appropriated by white Brazilians and became a symbol of a multi-racial Brazilian-ness. Funk music came out of a very similar Baile Black scene in Rio, but after co-option by drug dealers, and the focus on lyrics that depict sex and violence, an explicit blackness has been weened out of a genre that now represents the multi-racial favelas. So, what often results is that expressions of blackness happen through the appropriation of foreign cultures, which can't be appropriated as Brazilian by the greater population. Jamaican and the U.S. cultures, with strong histories of black empowerment movements become a convenient way to channel this identity. To see the roots of the scene, check out my favorite scene from the movie Cidade de Deus, which takes place during a Baile Black/Old School Funk Party in that neighborhood: In the states, the coordinated line dance style, isn't as has hip as twerking today. But it, does still have its space in U.S. culture. Two of the biggest line dances of the last decade, and staples of the black Midwestern and Southern family reunion/wedding scene were the Cupid Shuffle, and the Cha Cha Slide. Of course the black fraternities on U.S. College campuses are the most fervent defenders (and innovators) of the tradition: And in Oakland, the spiritual home of the hyphy movement (if Vallejo was its creative epicenter), a new hybrid twerk-step dance called Yiken has emerged (apparently merging with moves from the Gas Pedal.) Many of the moves are R-rated, what I initially called hyphy daggering, but this group of ladies really shows the creative side of the dance, and the energy of a place like the Town: So there you go. It may not sort out all us outsiders' understanding of racial identity in Brazil, but for me the connections are enough to satisfy -- and even understand my place in my new home. This post first appeared in modified form on Dutty Artz.

I’ve stopped going to Fan Fests. I’m tired, I didn’t pace myself. A month is a long time, and new arrivals seem to come every day. World Cup tourists have an endless number of substitutions. They’re always feeling fresh for the party. The knock out stages start soon. Big European teams - former American colonizers like England, Spain, Portugal - will start going home, and American teams like Chile, Costa Rica, and Colombia will be on top. Somewhat knocked out by the party, I too will be leaving at the end of the week. Last night I went on the town to see the U.S. v. Portugal. There were so many U.S. fans that the Fan Fest sold out. I’m not sure that’s happened for any other match but the home team’s. The traffic back up passing the Fan Fest made me miss the first 30 minutes of the match. After the match I met a Cameroonian-American. I felt for him. His Lions seem like the least deserving team to be out here. Today they play Brazil in their last group game. I hope Brazil can use this match as a way to build some momentum for the knock out stages. My Cameroonian friend lives in D.C., and he’s one of a few visitors I’ve met that seem to have a genuine interest in exploring Brazil beyond the Cup. He took Portuguese classes before coming, and we talked at length about politics and social issues amidst the Belgian and U.S. revelry. It’s unfortunate he came here during the Cup because there aren’t as many ways to experience Brazil beyond that right now. At least in Zona Sul, normal life has gone on holiday. It feels strange how much of an international city Rio has become. It feels like New York right now. It didn’t feel that way before. Hip kids from the states are here throwing private, corporate-sponsored DJ parties - they don’t really seem to care that much about football. The two parties I went to this weekend weren’t showing any of the matches that were happening simultaneously. It felt like SXSW. A parallel leisure global tourism is happening underneath the shadow of the sport infrastructure. My favorite days here are when Brazil plays. Every time the Seleçao is on the entire country goes on holiday. Last week I watched Brazil v. Mexico from a favela in Zona Oeste. Again, it was a festive atmosphere. Average Brazilians are very much enjoying the matches in their normal ways: at home, in bars, fireworks, and Neymar shirts. Even though it was a scoreless draw, the bar I watched it in partied the night away to pagode, funk, samba, and charme. I hope there are lots of fireworks today. Christopher Gaffney hopes otherwise. He thinks that if Brazil goes out early it will force a national reflection on their deal with the devil. It's an interesting proposal. Read his highly informative post on the state of the protests in Brazil, which continue despite the lack of coverage in international media. Whatever happens on the pitch, after this Cup experience I want Brazil to win more than ever. Image: FIFA.com

One of the popular phrases that came out of the protests in the run up to the Cup was, “Copa pra quem”? On the third and fourth days of the Cup, I’ve been darting around to different neighborhoods in Rio during the matches -- from favelas to wealthy beach front neighborhoods, and from street corner botecos to corporate events -- trying to get a sense of the answer to that question. What I've observed is that tourists are out in full force, waking the city out of a sort of mid-winter slumber that we had been experiencing. I visited Lapa Friday night and it was at Carnival levels of busy. The city's newly arrived visitors are friendly, but definitely in vacation mode, and that means they come with all the strange behavior which that entails. This includes plenty of small groups of men stalking around the now full beaches, a common occurence no doubt, however in an event where several people have already remarked to me about the disproportionate number of male visitors, this can become quite disconcerting. In the four days since the cup started I've heard the word brothel mentioned more often than in all of the four months I've lived here. Talking with cab drivers has been informative. Almost every time a cab driver hears I speak English they’ll try to get in as much practice as they can during the ride. One guy said, “I don’t speak English, but I do speak money!” I asked him if he had met a lot of English speakers and he said Argentinians seem to be the most frequent customers and that they like to haggle prices. And it’s true, Argentinians are everywhere here. Fittingly so, as their team is playing against Bosnia-Herzegovina at Maracanã this evening. Colombian fans also are making their presence known in its trans-amazonic neighbor. If you watched their match in Belo Horizonte against Greece on TV, you saw that almost the entire stadium was yellow with Colombia jerseys. I went down to the fan fest in Rio to watch the match with some Colombian friends, and their countryfolk were out in full force there as well. Since this match wasn’t as packed as the Brazil-Croatia opener, we were able to get into the official FIFA-sponsored screening venue without a problem. The crowd was joyful as Colombia dominated the match, but I actually enjoyed the experience at the overflow screen just outside the official FIFA venue more. There, informal vendors hawked cold local beers and Capirinha variations, while locals mixed with visitors in an open-beach atmosphere. Inside the highly securitized fan fest there were over the top multimedia displays, corporate sponsored booths, foreign 'official-sponsor' beverage companies, live music acts, an hype-man MC, video cameras galore, and carnival ride distractions. I personally preferred the experience of just a screen and the people. I was also able to visit some Brazilian friends who are against the Cup this weekend, and was able to discuss a little their feelings about the tournament now that it’s kicked off. I asked one friend if he in his heart was cheering for Brazil when they hit the field, even after all the problems with the hosting. He said no, that he was cheering for Brazil to lose. He actually felt that Thursday’s win was cheap, that the ref had unfairly helped the Brazilian side with a couple of blown calls -- including the penalty kick that put them ahead. I told him that when you spend $11 Billion dollars to host the World Cup, the home team is gonna get a few calls thrown their way. And my friend’s sentiment isn’t uncommon amongst Brazilians. The New York Times published a survey before the tournament asking people in various countries what their cheering preferences were. Brazil, the U.S., and Russia all had a significant percentage saying they were cheering against their own national squads. In the U.S., I chalk it up to the large immigrant population, as I am one of those who often roots for other sides according to a complex web of multi-national allegiances. In Brazil it is definitely related to people feeling defeated about their government’s acquiescence to global capital and FIFA (a feeling that Jon Oliver explains so well.) I get the sense that there's a general feeling of fatigue amongst those who participated in the protests, disillusioned by the lack of response to their demands by their government. What's more, the police response to the protests last year was extremely harsh, and many people who are more moderate in their direct action techniques have been coerced into staying off the streets. This time, on top of the normal riot police, the Army is involved, and private firms like Blackwater have been flown in. More than one person has told me that while they were involved in the protests last year, they'd be quietly opposing the cup in the safety of their homes during the tournament. Cheering against the Seleçao is an appropriate, and probably cathartic form of personal protest. So, in light of all this, I asked my friend who he’d been cheering for, and we both agreed that any African team playing would be our choice. I like to expand that include the African diaspora, and for many reasons was very excited when Costa Rica dominated Uruguay yesterday. It actually brought me back to that infamous Uruguay-Ghana quarter final during the last World Cup, giving me a bit of redemption for that painful Ghana loss. Incidentally, I had watched that match four years ago while in Bolivia, alongside a group of Brazilians living there. When I found out one of them was cheering for Ghana, I asked why he would cheer for an African team, and not his southern neighbor. He looked at me and said, “look at my skin, this is in my blood.” As far as for me, yesterday my day was capped with an agonizingly delayed triumph by my team Cote d'Ivoire. I celebrated enthusiastically, in a friend's apartment, and perhaps a few thousand Brazilians did as well.

I haven’t been on social media yet, and I’m sure everyone’s already talking about this, but how fitting is it that the first goal of the tournament is an own goal by Brazil? I mean four goals scored by Brazil, one for the other team, perfectly illustrates Brazilian feelings about the build up to this tournament. It also perhaps sums up day one of the tournament in Rio. Scorecard on the streets - the protests in Rio, Sao Paulo, and Natal pretty much dominated the first half. Riot police responded with tear gas and concussion grenades. The national news station Globo TV fittingly switched back between shots of the street violence and people in the fan fests, offering a perfect picture of the two Brazils we’ll see during the cup (however two Brazils is a constant theme here -- even without the cup.) It seemed like the protesters had been able to make their point just when the entire world was watching. During the morning, I had heard that traffic and supermarkets in Zona Sul were at apocalyptic slowdown levels, so I living in Zona Oeste, was worried about being able to make it to a place to watch the game in time. However by the time 3pm rolled around the streets seemed empty, and my wife and I hit the omnibus to see how far inside the city we could get. Already the city was like a ghost town, and besides one short traffic stop at São Conrado the streets were clearer than your average Monday evening. We breezed through the city, and all I could think about was how easily everything was working. It seemed that Brazil was managing this situation - without a match in the city and on a public holiday - pretty well. To be completely honest, I couldn’t help thinking how the chaos that everyone predicted with “imagina na copa” was no where to be seen. The usually bustling entrances to Rocinha and Vidigal were empty, Leblon and Ipanema were clear, and besides a few surfers on the beach, it seemed like everyone had gone home to watch the match. Carnival was much more chaotic than this, and that happens every year. I started to think that questions of Brazil’s ability to host the cup were completely unfounded. Was this routine any different than a normal Seleçao game day? Were the Brazilian people own goaling in their fear of the country's ability to host such a mega event? We had gotten to Copacabana so easily that when we passed the fan fest we decided to brave it and join the throng. We got off the bus at the front gate of the official fan fest, which was also the place we had heard a protest was forming. There were plenty of riot police and helicopters, which again gave the whole scene an apocalyptic feel. It was a strange dissonance against the already inebriated fans on the beach. Porta potty lines were long, but generally people were in a festive mood. By the time we had gotten to the fan fest the gates were closed so we opted for the overflow screen down the beach, which was also already packed out. That’s when the anti-FIFA protests rolled through, and we ended up in the middle between the fans and the protesters, with riot police lined up on the other side of the protesters. I was worried a little that the riot police were going to do something crazy, but the protest was peaceful and passed by in a calm manner. Maybe the police didn’t want to have teargas around the tourists? You all watched the match so you already know the score on the pitch, but some interesting moments to take note. 1) When the first goal happened, Marcelo’s own goal, I was actually worried that if Brazil didn’t win, as an unexpected consequence of the over blown security, the riot police were going to turn on the fans. This added plenty of motivation for my own cheers when Neymar came through to save the day. 2) The moon rising over Copacabana beach as Brazil settled into the lead, and the crowd settled into a contented hum, was a beautiful moment. It was probably the first time I felt a part of Brazil since moving here. 3) I was amazed when a trio of older Brazilian women of different races settled in behind me and kept expressing their motherly concern over the fatigue of the players on the field. 4) Are all English fans annoying? At least the group I was standing next to was self-aware enough to repeat over and over “we’re American” and “we loooove soccer” really loud. To their credit they were probably the most diverse single crowd at the beach, simultaneously repping Jamaica, Iran, and I would assume a few other places while sporting English jerseys. 5) At the same time, in a post-9/11 world, U.S. Americans abroad have seemed to become used to hiding in plain sight. Ninety-percent of the time I would hear English in an American accent, I would look up and see a Brazilian jersey or colors (I was no exception). I get the sense that this is never something an Argentinian would do. By the time the second wave of protests passed by the overflow screen (besides the military helicopter circling, I’m sure those inside the highly secured fan fest didn’t even notice their presence), it seemed that the protesters voices had fallen off into another moment of time. FIFA, with the help of the Seleçao, had come thru and won in the second half. However when I thought back to the empty streets, and the relatively low impact the match made on the actual functioning of the city, all the money spent on this event went into stark relief. If the action in Rio couldn’t hold a candle to the madness of Carnival, or even an average work day, why all the money and stadiums just to fill some ridiculous FIFA standard? At the end of the day the question of whether or not Brazil could handle the cup to me was answered with a resounding yes. The question of whether or not they should still remains. For the perfect soundtrack, all the way from Rio de Janeiro, check out @ChiefBoima with AfricasaCountry Radio, Episode 3. You can listen to all the episodes here.

World Cup Day 1 -- The sun is out in Rio for the first time in days. It's a national holiday. Anticipation in the air. I'm woken up to the sound of horns.

My first Brazilian national home game of significance is today… but perhaps this one is bigger than many. This is because there are two fields of action. One is on the pitch and the other is on the streets. This is Brazil's chance to prove itself in many different ways. As a country that's arrived on the global stage, as a fully developed democracy. It seems like proving themselves on the pitch was the last thing that was on many Brazilians minds in the run up today. 'Imagina na Copa' has rung in my ears since I've arrived. Well the cup is here and today I'm woken up to horns.

This morning I'm going to be trying to follow the action on the streets, this afternoon I'll be looking at the pitch. I've been following activist groups online for months in the preparation. It seems like one prominent activists' house was raided by police last night. Sao Paulo is already seen some protest action. Airport workers in Rio went on strike this morning for 24 hours. How else are Brazilian activists and workers going to show their cards today?

My next challenge today is to attempt to become mobile in Rio... I'm dreading the traffic.

For the perfect soundtrack, all the way from Rio de Janeiro, check out @ChiefBoima with AfricasaCountry Radio, Episode 3. You can listen to all the episodes here.

Came across this nice little disco edit of Toto's "Africa." Since we have a running series going, thought it would be nice to add it to the bunch. So deeejay! Take us awaaaay to Aaaaaafrica!

The ONE organization (it counts one of Warren Buffett's sons as well as Bono, Sheryl Sandberg, Condoleezza Rice, Nigeria's unpopular finance minister Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, among its leadership) dropped a new African pop star powered video this past week: http://youtu.be/jrEX4jpVtzQ So this is their strategy? Ask a bunch of relatively wealthy, globally-mobile pop superstars to tell rural youth to not participate in the flashy urban lifestyle they (the artists) usually promote--to stay in the countryside and participate in the resource extraction side of global capitalism? As Sean pointed out to me over email, the video isn't unlike the type campaign some dictatorship (South Africa's racist regime was fond of it) might use as a tool of "national development" or to fight crime or build national morale. It's actually kind of humorous if you look at it in that way. Let's pretend ONE (the organization) tried to do something like this in the American Midwest. Like, asked Kanye West to go to a car factory in Detroit and tell inner city youth to invest in their future as urban manufacturers. Would it work? Maybe that's not the right analogy. Still, this ad/music video/pro-agriculture campaign in my mind just isn't effective, and way out of touch with the reasons why African youth follow pop stars in the first place. It's not that I'm completely against edutainment. I do think that in general, especially in the context of developing countries, we have to be vigilant about who's involved in such projects, and how funding molds priorities of organizations, artists, and average people. Perhaps the most important thing for the producers of such material to do is to understand and respect their target audience, an attitude that would prioritize grassroots movements and help enforce transparency. For example, a Danish company recently launched an entertaining (and a little less patronizing) pro-sex ad addressing falling birth rates in their country. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrO3TfJc9Qw And in Liberia a similar campaign involved Liberian rapper Takun J (full disclosure: I was tangentially involved and in support of this project), and efforts to curb rape and sexual abuse in his country. http://youtu.be/uXJN_Y263JM The Takun J project was a heartfelt plea from the rapper, wanting to share the story of hardship of a young woman he met. In my opinion Takun's sincerity goes a long way to get the message across to his large following of urban male youth. At least more convincing than D-Banj as a farmer.

Last week I wrote a post about my excitement around the African musical permutations I was hearing this year in Trinidad’s Carnival. Since this week I was in Brazil for my first Carnaval Carioca, I wanted to also write about my experiences seeking out similar connections as a newcomer to this country. It’s no secret that Brazil is America's largest African country. So as a DJ of African descent who specializes in the music of the Black Atlantic, I was excited to hit the ground here and experience the Brazilian Atlantic musical permutations first hand. I've come to find that while Brazil is a nation with a strong pride in its African roots, the continued role of race in the formation of country's deep social divisions reveals some confusing contradictions. As the social reasoning goes in Rio, wealthier residents live in the formal city and are generally, but not always, white or light skinned. The residents of the informal favelas are mostly, but not always, dark skinned and of African descent. The marginal position that the favelas and their residents hold in society is reflected by the way their cultural production is treated. Funk Carioca is perhaps the cultural product that most represents life in Rio's favelas today. According to my friend Maga Bo, it is also one of the most African manifestations in contemporary Brazilian music because of its roots in the Maculele rhythm of Capoeira. In Rio, it and its practitioners are constantly subjected to either attacks by the state, or not unlike hip hop in the U.S. - appropriation into the machinery of capitalism. This mirrors the twin processes of removal and gentrification happening to the favelas' actual residents. Additionally, funk's often vulgar lyrics and favela origins cause even some self-identified Afro-Brazilians to look down upon it. The marginalization of certain aspects of Afro-Brazilian culture, combined with my own status as an outsider, often leave me frustrated when seeking out Afro-Brazilian culture in the city. Therefore, when I do come across African cultural permutations here it is both surprising and exciting. The first weekend I arrived in Rio I went to a large mainstream club in Lapa. The DJ played a lot of electro pop inflected funk, and a rock cover band played songs by bands like Bon Jovi. It wasn't necessarily my cup of tea, but in the middle of the night, my predilections were satisfied when the DJ ran a set of tunes that sent me into a dancing frenzy. One of those songs that really stood out was 'Ziriguidum' by Bahian band Filhos de Jorge: http://youtu.be/U10M6bxZjQw The reason I was so excited to hear this tune is that I know the melody from the song of a salsa-obsessed Beninois singer named Gnonnas Pedro. In the 1960s Pedro gave himself a Spanish-sounding name, revealing his desire to be associated with the Afro-Cuban sounds which were making their way all over the African continent at that time. These beginnings would eventually lead him to a long career of singing funk, salsa, highlife, soul, and updated Beninois traditional styles for such legendary projects as T.P. Orchestre Rythmo and Africando. 'Yiri Yiri Boum', having appeared on reissue compilations from outfits such as Putamayo and Sofrito records, is perhaps his most internationally recognizable hit: http://youtu.be/3-PjzzM93jo However, I didn't know until recently that while Pedro did a great rendition, he didn't write the song. The origins of the tune bring us back across the Atlantic to a Cuban composer named José Silvestre Méndez, and the great Beny Moré who recorded the song while on residency at a nightclub in Mexico. His version is likely the recording that made its way to Benin by vinyl LP, where Pedro picked it up. The trans-Atlantic connections of the melody (Portugal and Jamaica added to the list) now make it even rival 'The Peanut Vendor' in my mind. It turns out that 'Ziriguidum' was one of the biggest songs in Salvador's Carnival last year, and so it makes sense that it would have reverberated around the country in the following months. The melody would eventually make its way down to São Paolo, graft itself onto Maculele, and turned into an Atlantic super jam by Funk Ostenaçao artist MC2K: http://youtu.be/BTUv7p3XcjY For me, such musical connections add a bit of the familiar to the unfamiliar, helping me sort through the confusion that is Brazilian identity politics. Sure, MC2K is singing about and showing off girls shaking their butts. But the fact that he includes Capoeiristas in a video for a song that uses Maculele, and samples a pan-Atlantic Afro-Brazilian roots song from Bahia, shows me that the underlying cultural connections aren't totally lost on the "vulgar" and "low class" funk artists. The weight that Bahian music carries in the Brazilian national conscience was solidified for me by the time this year's Carnaval rolled around. That's when another big tune from Salvador, Psirico's 'Lepo Lepo', hit the streets. The song is a "pagode de miséria" ballad about the power of love (sex) over money that sounds (and looks) like a mix of bachata and jump up soca: http://youtu.be/AHVS5DW434g You couldn't escape renditions from (often white and middle class) Carnaval revelers anywhere in Rio. Perhaps its ubiquity in the party has been the reason why the song has received some blowback, and has become the subject of countless parodies. However, in the process of enduring alcohol soaked renditions on the city's public buses, I've come to understand that alongside funk, Northeastern musics such as axé, forro, and pagode are probably the most visible aspects of Afro-Brazilian culture in mainstream Brazilian society (David Goldblatt makes a pretty good case for Futebol though as well). And, it is often through these musics that an explicit African pride is channeled, which for me continues to pop up in unexpected places: http://youtu.be/xZZmByZWv94 Even though the Northeast can still be thought of as the cradle of Afro-Brazilian culture, Rio's historic position in the trans-Atlantic slave trade, and as a locus for Northeastern migration has made it central to the mainstreaming of Afro-Brazilian music. Besides being the birthplace of funk, Rio is recognized as the birthplace of samba. Rio's famous samba schools are the historic epicenter for both local social activism and the formation of an Afro-Brazilian identity for the country in general (check out Marlon Bishop's program about Samba on Afropop for more context.) From their beginnings through to today, socially marginalized favela residents often use these schools and their vaulted position during Carnaval as a soap box to express their views on society. Runners up of this year's Carnaval competition, Academicos do Salgueiro started as one such organization, and watching their performance was another revelatory surprise for me. Their theme of 'Gaia' or harmony with nature, with a composition originally built around a 6/8 rhythm and floats and costumes that drew on African aesthetics, really dug hard into representing the African roots of Brazil. Seeing them live, it was hard to not get carried away by, and sing along to the resounding chorus praising the Orixas of Candomble: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gIW0H5IPcQ I wrote last week that it seems like in the Caribbean older ideas of political pan-Africanism are fading, and contemporary Africa is providing new inspiration for a generation of globally aspirational cultural producers. On the other hand, in Brazil it seems to me that African-ness continues to be informed by ideas of national heritage and cultural roots. It wasn't just Salguiero celebrating Africa at this year's Carnaval competition in the Sambódromo, Brazil's African heritage was and often is a recurring theme. However, this year the thread came up against an interesting juxtaposition with the prevalence of a theme similar to the one I was noticing in the Caribbean: the interrogation of Brazil's position in the world. To me, these two threads symbolize the crossroads that Brazil is at just before it hosts FIFA's World Cup. As more and more eyes look to the country, Brazil may have to find ways to reconcile the contradictions between their pride in their roots and their contemporary social divisions. In other words, like any global superpower, Brazil will have to figure out how to project all their confusing contradictions into our globalizing world.

It's Carnival time again! Besides being one of my favorite annual excuses to party (although I usually partake in August, as I'm usually stuck in the northern cold at this time of year), it always gives me an excuse to catch up on the musical output of many of my favorite scenes from around the Atlantic world. Yesterday, when listening to a new soca mix from Hamburg-based DJ duo So Shifty, I couldn't help but get (over)excited about some of the connections I heard being made between Africa and the Caribbean. The first song that stood out was "Chuku Chuku" by Denise Belfon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ap58OunqsKA "Chuku Chuku" caught my ear, because I noticed that it interpolates "Ashawo," a global smash by Nigeria's Flavour. The song already had a trans-atlantic dimension as a version of the classic Cuban song "Manisero" or "The Peanut Vendor." Afropop did a great audio documentary on the legacy of the Cuban original, and its mark on popular music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Kl6sg8WHZA However, perhaps unaware of the American origins of the melody, Flavour meant for "Ashawo" or "Nwa Baby" to be an homage to Nigerian Highlife, a style that had lost out to the more hip hop and dancehall inflected musics that became popular across West Africa in recent years. The original highlife version of "Nwa Baby" was Rex Lawson's "Sawale": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBOXi3bJ7ug In the end Dancehall won out, and Flavour's popular "Ashawo Remix," versioned from Benin to Ethiopia to Zambia, became the logical candidate for a song to cross back over the ocean to the Caribbean. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMSTYtMSbL0 That's all exciting in its own right, but it wasn't what excited me most about So Shifty's mix. The song that deserves that distinction is one by Olatunji Yearwood (shout out the Nigerian OG). This is the tune that caused me to proclaim via Twitter the arrival of Azonto Soca: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eA8Z7h2L4ow To me, besides the clear rhythmic similarities of the Stag Riddim to Azonto, Olatunji is clearly channeling the singing styles of Ghanaian and Nigerian pop singers, making the connection explicit. I've been aware for some years that contemporary Afropop styles were becoming popular in Caribbean scenes. Decale Gwada or Madinina Kuduro show how connected the French Caribbean islands are to the Francophone capital. Some of those explorations have crossed over into the smaller neighboring islands, and I've even heard Kuduro tunes played at house parties during Brooklyn's West Indian day parade. But these incarnations for me are outliers, intrepid explorations into the outer realms of the African electronic diaspora by experimenters or progressive-minded DJs. Or they're just superficial fads. For example, during last year's Labor Day weekend festivities I had to laugh when the DJ at a Soca fete I was attending threw on Puerto Rican Don Omar's cover of a Portuguese singer's misappropriation of an Angolan dance style, and then proceeded to give a massive shout out to Venezuela! The arrival of the influence of contemporary Afropop on the Soca mainstream didn't become clear to me until this January while DJing a party in Brooklyn. Dlife, one of New York's biggest Soca DJs approached me during my set to talk about the Afrobeats tunes I was playing. He then told me about Machel Montano's Carnival remix of Timaya's "Shake Yuh Bum Bum": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1zvmil4NMg I imagine my Sierra Leonean father and his friends, who used to take me to the Caribana Fesitval in Toronto as a child, would be quite tickled if they attended the celebration this year. In order to understand this you have to know that for decades Africans have been consuming Caribbean music, merging different musical cultures and histories into new forms. In Sierra Leone especially, calypso-influenced styles such as palmwine are part of our national heritage. Because of this, and because of my experiences going to Carnival-like celebrations in North America, I've always felt that Anglophone Caribbean culture from places like Jamaican and Trinidad was part of my own cultural heritage. For me it is a great source of pride to see some explicitly African contributions coming to the fore in dancehall and soca circles. Every year in Brooklyn, amongst the roll call of Caribbean nation flags waving on Eastern Parkway, once in a while you might see a Ghanaian or Nigerian one pop up. This year those flags might just wave a little higher! After a couple of initial tweets, the great Wayne and Wax chimed in, and asked my why I heard the songs as Azonto. We had a quick exchange where we discussed the rhythmic breakdown that identify it as Azonto or not. Siddhartha called us nerds. Alexis Stephens chimed in with Busy Signal's version of U Go Kill Me, and pointed out the connections that DJs in London like Hipsters Don't Dance are making in their work. So Shifty responded with Yung Image's cover of P Square on the Alingo Riddim, and Iswayski submitted a mix by Brooklyn-based Guyanese Grenadian DJ Speedydon. Erin MacLeod loved it, and an overall grand time was had by everyone. Later in the night, as almost if to settle the issue @RishiBonneville submitted this video from St. Vincent: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gI8D-3i7wAE Tempering my excitement for a resurgence of some kind of 21st Century Pan-Africanism, what we're observing is more a story of the ascendance of a unitary global pop. This global pop rides the waves of neoliberalism, and aspirational belonging to an individualized consumer-driven global economy. However, it also accompanies an increase in South South connections, albeit mediated often via immigrant populations in Northern capitals - but also new economic relationships and the Internet. It's doing crazy things to culture, and such musical connections in this day and age are just more proof that we're living in a hyper-connected world. The differences between Rio, Port of Spain, Accra, London, and New York are melting away to reveal one giant mega city - inside of which the divisions between classes may tell us more about international society than national borders. However, let's not dwell on the dark side of globalization too much, after all this is Carnival! The only time in many former-slave/colonial societies that racial, class, and cultural barriers are temporarily lifted in the service of universal revelry. So go ahead, dive into Azonto Soca, and imagine the possibilities of our new world! * Top image by Blaine Harrington.