I heard Antibalas with only one preconceived notion: that they play afro-beat music. Of course, afro-beat is synonymous with its creator, Fela Kuti, who boasts an impressive catalog of political, rhythmically charged records. Those records are waiting to be compared to Security, but I'll spare you and simply recommend seeking out Fela Kuti for yourself, if you haven't already. Really, what's interesting about Antibalas isn't their overt political message or relation to Fela, but their range of musical influences and their methods of sidestepping standard beat music's less favorable trappings.
I'll start by saying that Security is absolutely accessible, with a broad, potentially surprising appeal for those willing to listen. The entry point of that accessibility is, of course, the rhythm -- the beats. At the album's core is an expertly recorded, extremely expressive drum and bass section that centers any extraneous instrumental flourishes and should instantly satisfy background or party music needs. Every song churns in just the right mid-tempo, stop-and-start sort of way. It tends to get inside you, and it feels good!
As a result, jam band or 'stoner music' comparisons will be drawn, partly because those comparisons are inherent in the genre. But the fact that Antibalas would be at home at Bonnaroo or an Indie Fest alike only highlights their appeal. I haven't had the live experience yet, but from the first note to the last, you can sense Security would come to life in a very different way live than it does on record. There's something very "primal" and authentic about afro-beat rhythms, something that jam-band fans seem more willing to submit to than your average independent music listener. But when I mentioned Antibalas' mass appeal, I didn't just mean among a single demographic. Much to the delight of the more weathered (or jaded) TMT readers (and this writer), Security is injected with life beyond its groove.
The album's final two tracks are worth noting on the basis of harmonic variation alone. “Age” is a covertly lovely song, pointed by its simplistic, slow-boiling instrumentation and a meandering arrangement, while the penultimate “I.C.E.” is Security' most distant in tone, but arresting in overall execution. Horn stabs and lush harmonies seem fair game for Antibalas, and while they subversively pillage a broad variety of styles, they are smart not to let their album's focus drift too far from its center. The result seems absolutely effortless, so much so that it's easy to let Security float by without noticing its subtler charms. But that's the beauty of Antibalas and the best afro-beat artists: They make all-purpose music, seemingly singular in vision but fit for nearly any occasion.
More about: Antibalas
