Lagos, 1968. The room is thick. Thick with humidity and densely packed bodies who have come to listen. Thick with the sound of brass and percussion blending big-band bravado with traditional Nigerian yoruba, highlife, jazz and funk. Thick with the wild call of a saxophone wielded by a half-naked muscled black man with a message. The crowd is thick with anger made tangible in the electric air. Mostly, it's a room thick in the middle of a movement. A nightclub turned birthplace. The man is Fela An...
Lagos, 1968. The room is thick. Thick with humidity and densely packed bodies who have come to listen. Thick with the sound of brass and percussion blending big-band bravado with traditional Nigerian yoruba, highlife, jazz and funk. Thick with the wild call of a saxophone wielded by a half-naked muscled black man with a message. The crowd is thick with anger made tangible in the electric air. Mostly, it's a room thick in the middle of a movement. A nightclub turned birthplace. The man is Fela An...
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