Tsapiky Guitars
“Over the past 15 years, the popular music of Africa has been aired in a thousand varieties. For those who have dug into the well, it might seem that the continent has few surprises left. But on a recent research trip to the Indian Ocean island of Madagascar, I was elated to discover not just a great new artist, but a whole new genre of utterly distinctive pop music. It came near the end of the journey, in the far southwest of this California-sized island in the sleepy, poor port city of Tulear. Our musical guide, Hanitra of the Malagasy roots group Tarika, had been raving about the rowdy, guitar-driven sound called tsapika (or tsapiky--pronounced tsapik either way you spell it). She told tales of slipping into sapphire mining camps after dark and being accosted by guards with Kalashnikovs, who were ready to string her up until she explained she was there to hear her guitar hero, tsapika bandleader Jean Noël. “We were gathering tape for public radio's Afropop Worldwide, but with only mixed results as far as tsapika music went. We caught Jean Noël's group on an off night in a staid Tulear restaurant. The best tsapika band we heard was playing on the back of a pickup truck, heading out of town to a mining camp, without us. We bought many cassettes, but they were mostly of poor sound quality. Tsapika thrives far from the country's recording capital, Antananarivo, and had little national audience at the time. A good recording of the style was not easy to find. Nevertheless, the music with its relentless beat, wailing, tuneful vocals and giddy guitar riffing was undoubtedly a find. “Now, with the release of a historic, 15-track compilation Tulear Never Sleeps, tsapika has gone international, and fasten your seatbelts--this is one wild ride. Jean Noël "Ela Lia (Too Long)" kicks off with the crisp, clean clang of high electric guitar notes. A snapping snare drum cranks up the beat, a kind of restless rockabilly pump with a hint of the most driving Congolese soukous you've ever heard. High, sweet female voices harmonize in plaintive, full voice, as liquid bass lines slide unctuously through the scramble of guitar lines. There's a particular fleetness to the guitar work. It's as crisp and precise as Congolese guitar, but much more angular and darting. Instead of cycling or sustained melodies, these guys play in fitful, short bursts of start-and-stop action, with speedy, nervous phrasing suggestive of an animal on the run from a predator. But in the hands of a master like Jean Noël, or Niriko, the soloist for Tsy An-Jaza, the technique and style is exceptional, right down to the chiming harmonics at the end of an edgy solo. “Tsapika is certainly related to the rich traditional music of the region. Its speedy pace echoes the recreational village boogie played on squeeze box accordion by the Marikoto people, or the omnipresent kabosy, a ukelele-like hand-made lute. The clipped phrasing of the guitar lines evokes the trance music of the marovany box zither played by the Vezo people. But electricity and volume are key to this sound, which is normally played at blasting levels with distortion you won't get from any effects pedal--speaker membranes must be sacrificed for this. “Even in the relatively pristine recordings on Tulear Never Sleeps, tsapika is the very definition of exuberance. The earliest rendition of the genre--called pecto--goes back to the late 70s, but tsapika really came into its own when precious minerals began to be found in the earth of this neglected, mostly infertile corner of the island. In the wild west atmosphere of an impromptu sapphire mining camp, where a peasant might become a wealthy man in a single day, hard drinking and hard partying are the order of the night, and tsapika is the soundtrack to that drama. “In the songs by the eight groups featured here, we get social advice and tales of domestic adventure: a man with five children by different mothers, another with two lovers living under the same roof, also warnings about the deceitfulness of men and the dangers of mixing money and friendship, and lots of musical self-promotion. The relentless pace is broken by a tsapika lullaby from veteran band Rivo Doza, a slow, moody trance piece with a 6/8 rhythm from a young group called Teta, and two acoustic kabosy pieces from Jeff Nhoré. These last two also deliver the white-knuckle rhythms found elsewhere here, but the muted texture of strummed, fishing-line strings makes a pleasing departure from the barrage of ringing electric guitar tones. “Tsapika is formulaic, essentially electric folk music. But to spruce it up with nifty arrangements and the sort of polish now typical in Congolese and South African pop--as some Malagasy producers have done--might well spoil the effect. These groups are unlikely to tour Madagascar, let alone Europe or America. But their addition to the body of Afropop music on the international market is welcome and noteworthy.” Contributed by: Banning Eyre Originally published in: Boston Phoenix