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My Tape Transcripts

Hi everyone. Glad you found your way to this page. Following are tape transcripts I created myself by listening to audiotapes of interviews. Yes, it took a while to do. I originally had these in the newsletter. I decided to share them with all of you.


WORLD CAFE
Thursday, 8/20/98
WXPN * Philadelphia, PA

     [soundbite of "Never Know"]
     David Dye: Our good friend to the World Cafe, Angelique Kidjo has come back, and we are so happy, Angelique.
     Angelique Kidjo: I'm happy to be back home.
     DD: You're one of our favorite guests. You're always the most stylish, too. You're always looking good.
     AK: Come on.
     DD: Indeed, indeed! You must be very happy. This new record, Oremi, is just gorgeous.
     AK: I'm happy. I have been happy from the beginning when I started working on this album 'til the end of it, as often when I do my albums. But this one was a special one for me because the idea of this concept and this album started again, once again, back home when I was growing up, in 1976, when I first saw the movie of Alex Haley, Roots. Knowing about slavery and seeing the reality of it, even if it's a movie, gives you a sense of how people can mistreat each other and how people can suffer. And then the conscience of slavery became something real for me. The most important thing is the mentality about thinking of one, of unity with everybody in this whole world.
     DD: One of the ways you show that is in both aspects of your music, you sing in all different languages. Your music combines African with Western, I guess we would call the African Diaspora, you know, the music that went to Haiti, went to Brazil, went to the U.S. And you've always done that so, probably, I would say more successfully than any other person from the African continent because you're so aware of both and so aware of Western music and so aware of where you came from. You don't lose yourself in the Western music, either.
     AK: I always say that I am lucky, I'm one of the luckiest people in the world to be born in the family where I was born, and in my very early age, to be really close to what comes from all around the world because my brothers were doing music, and they listened to different kinds of music. I started listening to keyboards and all those kinds of instruments when I was a little girl. So for me, the music I'm doing today reflects where I come from, how I grew up. That's why this album, as I was saying to you, is a first step to meet that Diaspora out there. This is the first stop. I want to do a trilogy. After this one, I want to go to Brazil, and on the third part of it, I want to combine Haiti, Cuba, and New Orleans because, like it or not, the slavery that happened here was one of the worst because they tried to completely brainwash the black people that came from Africa from their roots.
     DD: Well, you worked with a couple of different producers on here who have just realized this vision in such a great way combining this music. Now what happens when you work with these guys?
     AK: You won't believe it. For this album I wrote 22 songs. And I had to choose out of those 22 songs. And I have to tell you it was not easy at all. I wanted to have a producer that comes from the R&B background. So when I called Peter Mokran up, he goes, "You know what? I know nothing about African music, I have to admit that." I said, "That's why I want you."
     DD: Well, let's do that, let's play that one that you and Robbie Nevil wrote together. This is "Never Know."
     [plays "Never Know"]
     DD: That's "Never Know," one of the many, wonderful excursions on this new album from Angelique Kidjo called Oremi, and she's here talking about it, and hopefully we'll get her to do a tune for us a bit later on. That is so great. One of the things I've noticed throughout this, I wanted to play one of the ones Branford worked on with you. One of the things you've done from the very beginning is you've taken words in whatever language they may be and used them as the hook, as the percussion, as the whole thing. You do it again on this one on a couple of tunes, particularly that one, "Itche Koutche." I don't even know if that's a word in the language, but it works so well. How did that tune come about?
     AK: The thing about "Itche Koutche" is that when I was living at Branford's house, we talked about working on finishing a song, and he was like, "Ah, we'll do that one day." I'm like, "You better sit your butt somewhere and play it, man. You're always walking, going up and down, going for your golf. Sit down!" And he's like, "OK, you, African lady, I'm gonna sit down, then you better leave me alone." I said, "You better do so." So we started the song with a drum. My husband and I, we started putting things together, and then, he sits down, and he finds that hook, and I wanted to write that song "Itche Koutche." "Itche Koutche" in Yoruba means "Bad behavior." And I met this girl who was talking about her new boyfriend that she was going to introduce to her mother. And then she was telling me, "I know what he's doing now, now my next step, my next concern is to know how much he earns." And I'm like, I was so shocked, I'm like, "Aren't you more concerned about how much he loves you?" And she goes, "This is secondary. I'm not interested about that." I'm like, "Wait a minute. This is not the way a relationship works." And it was a huge fight, but I wanted to express that bad behavior because if many people have that way of thinking, I think it's not good.
     DD: "Itche Koutche."
     [plays "Itche Koutche]
     DD: Bad behavior, "Itche Koutche." That's a great song.
     AK: I know, all the musicians are going, "What does that mean, 'hoochy koochy, hoochy koochy.' It's not hoochy koochy, huh. But, I mean, hey, it comes from somewhere, right?
     DD: Right. And Branford weaving a great part in there, too. That's a really great piece. And what about all the background vocals in this? Do you end up running all those out yourself, or how does that work?
     AK: Oh, for the backing I have been to South Africa to record the backings because when I was doing this album, I signed before two concerts in Johannesburg, and they have been asking me to come to South Africa for a long time, and I've always refused when Apartheid existed because I said, "If I go there, I'm going to jail because I'm gonna open my mouth wide and say everything I think about it." And my management won't let me go, and myself, I did not wanna go. So, when I give my word, I like to keep it. So, I take the tapes, Peter's tape, because my husband produced some songs, too, and his tapes, and we get there, and I say, "I want young artists, I mean, if you wanna just come and do what you have to do." And in the middle of the session, you have this Zulu poet that comes over to me very shy, a huge fan of my music, right? "I really want to do something for you." So I tell my husband, "Hey, give him a microphone." That's how he does the introduction of "Voodoo Child" and in "Babalao" and "Yaki Yaki."
     DD: Yeah, that's great, he's great. Well, let's talk about Jimi Hendrix and then play the intro of "Voodoo Child." That was music you heard a lot in Benin?
     AK: My brother used to play guitar. And he used to wear wigs to look like Jimi hendrix. And when he started playing the guitar, I was seven or eight years old, and I would sit down there and learn every single word of the guitar. And he used to play two tunes: one from Santana called "Samba Pa Ti" and from Jimi Hendrix "Hey Joe." And here I am in the middle of it, and I would sing the guitar because I didn't even know there were words behind "Hey Joe." All I knew was the guitar. So, how did I come to meet "Voodoo Child"? I was in France when that album of Sting was released, English Man in New York, with the song "Little Wing." And I love that song, for one reason I don't know why I love that song and "English Man in New York." And we were talking one night at the concert hall with my husband and a friend of mine, who I didn't know was the fan of Jimi Hendrix. So I was like, "I like that Sting song 'Little Wing.' He goes, "What? Are you crazy?! Sting song?! Are you crazy?!" He started yelling at me. I'm like, "Hey, don't yell at me. I made a mistake. I don't know everything." He goes, "It's a Jimi Hendrix song." I'm like, "Yeah? Let us go!" And he goes, "Come to my house, I will introduce you to more songs." So here we are, and he played the real "Little Wing" for me, "Purple Haze," "A Castle Made of Sand," and "Voodoo Child." When he put the "Voodoo Child" on, I'm like, "That's it!" Something just grabs you into the center of the gravity. I'm like, boom, into it. And I told him seven years ago, "I'm gonna do a cover of this song." He looked at me, he goes, "Oh, yeah? Good luck." I said, "Why are you saying that?" He said, "You wanna do a cover of Jimi Hendrix? Are you crazy?" I said, "Hey, this song is calling me. I wanna do it. I didn't say I'm gonna do it immediately. It's gonna take time. I know that this song is in my soul, and I'm gonna sing it one day." So, it took time to make it happen because I didn't want a guitar playing inside. It was Jimi Hendrix, or it was no one else. I'm not saying there are not that great guitar players out there, but I just want him. And if I could not give my tribute to him my way, I would not do so.
     [plays "Voodoo Child"]
     DD: That's "Voodoo Child," and that is our guest. That's not a version you've heard before, that is, unless you've been listening here, I guess. That's the version that Angelique Kidjo starts off Oremi with and just a beautiful, beautiful, no-guitar version, which is so great. It's so great to do it that way.
     AK: I like it.
     DD: So many things I wanted to talk to you about. You talked about this trilogy you're involved in. One thing I found out I didn't know about was your mom's theater troupe you were part of when you were growing up? What was that? What did she do?
     AK: When I was six years old, my mother put together a theater group because she loves music and she loves theater. My mom used to play clarinet, too. And she was a choreographer, and she wanted to put that theater group together because she liked drama. And impossible to find the money, impossible to find any support, but she said to herself, "I'm gonna do it." So she used to have a shop where she sold clothes. So, she put all the money of that store in there to benefit, everything just going to it. So she did the costumes, she did everything. And the rehearsal. And in the middle of that theater playing, it was, that piece was based on the life of a king of Benin called Akaba, who was in love with one of the most beautiful princesses of the history of our country who was called Nagazi. And the king liked singing and dancing. So that's where I come into that piece because I sing for the king and dance for the king. When she first grabbed me, she was looking for a little girl, and no one would give her any child to play on the thing. And she goes, "You spend your day in that house, killing our ears, screaming, singing, telling stories, come here, come and do it on stage." I'm like, "I can't do that!" She goes, "All right, go." So the first time she put me on stage, I was like, shaking! She pushed me, and she goes, "Now you go. Just do it. Just think you're home. Just have fun for yourself first. If you have fun, people have fun." That's how I started being on stage.
     DD: Well, that's great. Now you were six when you started singing in your mom's theater troupe, and your daughter was how old when she was singing on your record?
     AK: Four
     DD: Stage mother, it's inherited.
     AK: Yeah. She wanted badly to sing. She really wanted to sing that song, and she wouldn't give up. I mean we thought it was just a kind of caprice, that she would forget and she wouldn't think about it. And she kept on saying, "I want to sing." So the day at the studio, she arrived at the studio, I don't know who put the Cartoon Network Channel on; she arrived, there was that Tom and Jerry cartoon playing, and she was like, "Mom, you know what? I don't feel like singing now. I wanna watch my cartoon first." So she sat down and watched the cartoon for three hours. And then we go, "Time is running, we're paying, man. Come and sing." "OK, OK," she said. She sat down, she put the headphones on, and she goes to her dad, "Can you put down the light, please?" So the father put down the light, and she looked at the father and goes, "You'd better make sure your computer works right. I'm not gonna sit down here singing 10 times." I'm like, "OK, here we go." I said, "Naima, what? Where do you learn those things from?" She goes, "Mom, I watch TV." I'm like, "OK. That's it." And when she finished singing, she goes, "I'm done. I'm not singing no more. Done." She stood up, vroom, she was gone, back to the Cartoon Network Channel.
     DD: Well, you're gonna do that song for us live, but I thought we'd just play her part 'cause she just kind of comes in on the end of this one.
     AK: Yeah.
     DD: OK, so this is
     AK: "Loloye."
     DD: "Loloye." And this is Naima's part here.
     [soundbite of Naima singing on "Loloye"]
     DD: And that's how the daughter sings it, and she does a really good job. I mean, that's good, I mean.
     AK: But she sings with so much conviction! I'm like, "Don't scream." She goes, "You let me sing as I wanna do, or you sing." I'm like, "OK, go, sing."
     DD: Well, let's see if you can keep up with her. You wanna do that one?
     AK: Yeah. Let's do it.
     [Angelique sings "Loloye" in studio]
     DD: That's Angelique Kidjo singing almost as strong as her daughter on that one. "Loloye," what's that song about?
     AK: "Loloye" is a love song, and in that song I'm saying that when you love a man or a woman, send that person free. Love is not a jail. And love is not something you can find and buy in a market. And if you're lucky to find someone that loves you, cherish that love. Love sometimes is not enough for a couple or a friendship to last. Every single person in that relationship has to work a lot for that relationship to last for life.
     DD: Good advice. Well, thanks for coming by here.
     AK: Oh, man, it's too short.
     DD: Thanks a lot to Bonamus Bowie for playing the piano today, too. You don't really pay him to play, you just pay him to absorb the abuse, that's sort of how it works, right?
     AK: Which abuse? Wait 'til I start abusing you, then you can talk. So far, you're having a good time. It's a piece of cake working with me, you know that. No comment.
     DD: The little angel, the little angel, Angelique Kidjo, our guest.
     AK: I'm not an angel, that's why I said to my father, "You were wrong when you gave me that name. You should have given me something else!"
     DD: Thanks again.
     AK: Your welcome.
     [soundbite of "Itche Koutche"]


MORNING BECOMES ECLECTIC
Tuesday, 6/23/98
KCRW * 89.9 FM * Santa Monica, CA

     Nick Harcourt: This is KCRW. The program you are listening to is Morning Becomes Eclectic; I'm your host Nick Harcourt, and a very good morning and welcome back to Angelique Kidjo, good morning.
     Angelique Kidjo: Good morning, everybody.
     NH: Good to have you in town. When was the last time you were here?
     AK: Four years ago, a long time.
     NH: Yeah, what have you been up to?
     AK: I've been doing another album, touring around the world, and been busy writing this one. So I've been pretty busy.
     NH: You have a new album out, as we said, it was released last week. It's called Oremi (o-RAY-me)? Is that the correct pronunciation?
     AK: Absolutely.
     NH: It's on Island Records, and your fourth album for the label, Mango/Island. Maybe we could go back...
     AK: Mango disappeared already. Mango is no more.
     NH: Yeah, Mango went into Island, and Island is in the process of going into something else.
     AK: OK, don't even start.
     NH: I know, I know. We have a theory here about how it's all going to end up.
     AK: Aw, I don't wanna know about it.
     NH: But let's go back a little further than the new record, perhaps to your beginnings, you're from Benin?
     AK: Absolutely.
     NH: And you were born there. How did you begin to get into music? I know you ended up in Paris, but how did you begin to make music yourself, and then your career progress?
     AK: I started singing with my mother in her theater group; I was six years old. And I have always been surrounded by music and sports because my brothers were in table tennis and basketball. And one of them was the champion and captain of the team of Benin. And my brothers set up the first modern musical group in the 70s back home, and I was a little, small little girl, listening to all the music that they covered, like Jimi Hendrix, Carlos Santana, James Brown, Aretha Franklin, and musicians from Zaire, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones; my brother loved singing songs from, what's the name, I keep forgetting. (singing) Sitting in the morning sun, I'll be sitting when the evening comes, watching the ships roll in, and I watch 'em roll away again.
     NH: Yeah, Otis.
     AK: Otis Redding, that's it.
     NH: Absolutely.
     AK: So, I grew up listening to all different kinds of music like that, so that's how I started singing; I was very, very young when I started singing.
     NH: I was gonna let you roll with that and sing the whole song there for a moment. So you were listening to a lot of American artists, and your brothers' band was covering a lot of these people.
     AK: Absolutely. They were covering music that came from everywhere, basically. All the music that was on the air in the 70s, they were playing it. Most of them are in my head, I cannot give you the name of the band, I just can sing the song because I was very young when I started listening to this music, and sometimes I didn't even know the lyrics, basically, in English. So I would sing the melody and sing the instrument part with my mouth. That's how I developed my memory with the song, so that's how I started to be in the music world.
     NH: What about your own music, the music of Benin. How did you begin to, perhaps, incorporate that into some of the music you'd been hearing and then make your own music?
     AK: The music that comes from the South of Benin where I come from had been bred inside. I was most of the time hooked with my aunts and uncles, always asking questions because I was curious a lot, so the first song I sang, basically, was a traditional song from Benin. So, my brothers brought me to the modern instruments from the Western world, the instruments in the song and the drum I used to know came from Benin, came from my village, came from different parts of the south of Benin. So, when I first discovered the instruments that come from the Western world, I was like Alice in Wonderland. I was like, "What is this? This is different, it's not the cowbell, it's not the big drum, it's not the chest, it's not the leg, it's nothing that I knew from." And, I was like, "Oh, I like that. I like that thing that can make music that can make me happy as my drums do the same thing." So, I have been always wondering how, one day if I became a musician, how I could let those two worlds meet. That's what I try to do with my music today.
     NH: So, we can jump forward in just a moment, and we're going to hear some music as well, but I'm really interested in how you then went from this beginning to understand all these different styles of music to actually starting to make your own music. When did you first perform?
     AK: I first performed at six years old, singing traditional songs, and I did my first recording for the national radio in my country in 1976 or 1977. I was doing a cover of a song of Miriam Makeba that I adapted on my way. And, the thing is, when I'm writing a song, I don't think about what kind of groove it's gonna be, if it's gonna sound hip-hop, it's gonna sound jazzy, I don't think about it because all those things are in my head all the time. When I start writing songs, there are three things that work together for me: the drums, the melody, and the words together make one sound to me. That's basically how I start. Then the drum-fill comes in, then the instruments and the harmony comes after. So those instruments I add, if I like it, I keep it. If I don't like it, I say, "I don't want this, I don't want guitar here, I don't want keyboard here, I want this, and I want that," and I'm lucky enough to work with my husband who knows how to deal with computers because I hate the computer, I don't touch the computer, I don't wanna know. I just wanna keep my ears and my hands focused on what's coming outside of my soul.
     NH: So you tell him what you wanna do.
     AK: I just put it on the tape, and I tell him, "You know what, you put it on there. I don't wanna know what that's gonna be." And he likes to do that. And sometimes he says to me most of the time when we travel to Benin, he's French, and the way he discovered and talks about my traditional music, I never thought about it before because I'm living my music, I'm living in it, I'm not asking myself any questions, I don't count, I don't do "one, two, three, four," I'm like on the pulse of the rhythm. We never count, basically, that's the way it is. So when he arrived in Benin, he was like "Wow, that sounds like the Greek in the ancient times when the orators stood and started singing, that's how you put the music together." I said, "All right, if you say it's so, it might be true." I don't think about it like that, so, every time I talk about a drum, he's automatically related to it with a modern instrument because he knows better that world of mine, and sometimes,
     NH: Well, that's his reference point.
     AK: Oh, yeah, that's it, definitely. So I respect that. And sometimes, he will ask me, "Do you like it?" And if I say, "I don't like it," he won't force me. If it's jungle too much, or techno, or too much rock 'n' roll, I'm like, "I'm not dealing with it, naaah, I don't want it." So, I don't put it on.
     NH: You moved to France when you were, how old were you when you moved to France?
     AK: Mmm-mmm, don't put me in that . . .
     NH: A younger woman.
     AK: Yeah, I moved to France in 1983 after doing my first album for African continent in 1981.
     NH: And did you meet your husband in France or before you went over there?
     AK: Yeah, I met him in France in 1987.
     NH: And you've been collaborating since then.
     AK: Since then.
     NH: Well, we'll come back up to date in a little while. Why don't we let you play some music right now. And you have your keyboard player with you, he's Bonamus Bowie?
     AK: Yes.
     NH: OK, and you're both sitting there in the studios ready to play us some music. What's the first song you're gonna play for us this morning?
     AK: The song I'm gonna play this morning is on the new album, called "Loloye," which means, hmmm, doesn't mean anything, basically. I like to make up my own words in a way to make it sound, but the meaning of the song is love is not a jail, and you cannot use love as an argument to beat up a woman; if you love somebody, you have to send that person free. Love is about freedom of respect of the freedom of each partner. And, if you're lucky to find somebody in your lifetime who loves you for who you are and what you are, you should cherish that love and work on it.
     NH: Let's here it. On Morning Becomes Eclectic, this is Angelique Kidjo live.
     AK: (sings "Loloye") Thanks a lot.
     NH: Thank you! Angelique Kidjo right here live at 89.9, KCRW on Morning Bcomes Eclectic. We were talking just before you started performing about the fact that you moved to Paris. How did you come to move to Paris, and I'm sure there was a very active African music community there, but how did you come to be there?
     AK: I moved from Benin for two main reasons: First one was the musical scene was so small, after two years of touring, and I'm somebody who likes to change and to move forward, and doing the same thing starts to get me a little bit -- sad. And the second reason mainly is political because Benin at that time was still Communism dictator. And the government step by step moved on putting pressure on the musicians for them to praise the revolution and to sing about Communism. And one thing that I say that my music will never do is to praise an ideology, and a political ideology. So, the reason to move was obvious. If I don't move and I stay there and express the way I feel about it, I'll put myself and my parents and my family in danger. So I had to move. So I had to prepare my departure to France very secretly. And I moved without anyone knowing that I was traveling that day; people guessed that I might leave one day, but nobody knew that I was leaving, otherwise I wouldn't be leaving. And I moved to Paris because Benin is a French-speaking country. When you move to make a big change from another life, it's better for you to go to a place where you speak the language. Then you can get linked to the people more easily, and because, too, my brother was already there, three years, he had been spending three years there. And that gave confidence to my parents to let me go because I'm a girl, and they're not there any more, even if I was an adult, and I was earning my own money, they still care. It doesn't matter how old you gonna be, in Africa, you're always gonna be a child of somebody. So, that's why I moved to Paris.
     NH: So, you came to Paris, and that makes a lot of sense, I mean go somewhere where you speak the language. That's why I came to America.
     AK: Then I started doing music with a piano player from Holland called Jasper Van't Hof, I had a group called Pili Pili. So I had been touring with him for about four or five years before I decided to go back to my solo career. And, meanwhile, I met my husband. And, of course, now, I'm living in New York because I decided way back home when, in the 70s, I discovered that movie from Alex Haley called Roots about slavery. You know about slavery 'til you face it. In the movie, that changed completely my real understanding how slavery had been tough in America, and how people have been treated by going back to Africa where we welcome the colonists, thinking that because they're human beings, they're exactly like us, and trust them, and they fool us around for them to be able to take the people of this continent out to build their own continent and to build their economy. So, I decided then at that time I asked questions to my grandmother because I was lucky enough to have both grandmothers live more than 100 years, ask them how come that this situation is like that. And the mother of my father was telling me that slavery was possible because we helped the white people to get the people outside of the country because they did not know, apart from the coast, how to get inside the country and get the people. How can they know who is strong enough, healthy enough, to take them away, we helped them. And, she told me, "What you want to do, it doesn't matter what you take," because I wanted to be a lawyer of human rights. She said to me, "If you wanna be a lawyer or if you're gonna be a musician, make sure that you don't do your work in terms of hate and revenge because it's not the way we're gonna find a solution. White people are who they are, but they're always gonna be part of our lives. They have to continue being our partner, and we have to teach them that hate is not what we go for, beating is not what we go for, we go for love and care for each other." So, that's what I try to do with my music; I decided to move forward, to go and meet the black Diaspora that comes basically from Africa that are in the world. And my first stop is in America. And, of course, that album has a sound of R&B and soul and funk, that was my first influences. And my second stop is gonna be in Brazil, and my third stop is gonna be in Cuba, Haiti, and New Orleans because all of those places keep something which is very close to my country which is the Voodoo religion and the rhythms.
     NH: Let's talk about the religion a little bit if you can before we play some more music. I know that you actually share two religions, I mean, you have Catholic. And you have animism. How do you juxtapose, I mean use both of those religions, how can they both be a part of your life? I'm not saying that they shouldn't be. I'm just interested to know how do you make these two religions both a part of who you are?
     AK: When the missionaries arrived in Benin, for example, and they brought the religion, they asked everyone to be baptized, and everybody had been baptized but, we told them from day one that our religion we wanna keep it because our religion is very important for us. And they were obliged to accept that, there was no way for them not to accept that because people wouldn't go to their church and not go into their Voodoo ceremony after. So the first cathedral that had been built in the history of the Catholic religion in Benin was built right in front of the Temple of Python. And those two priests were very close friends. And how did those affect my life and I incorporate them in my life? It's simple. In the Voodoo religion they teach us to respect the nature and to respect every human being. Everything that is alive on this earth we have to have respect for because we believe in Voodoo religion that without the nature, a man would not exist, a human being would not exist. Therefore, we choose to believe in the thunder, in the lightning, in the water, in all the elements that are surrounding us, our lives. Snake is very important because they say in the mythology of the Voodoo religion that this world had been created by two snakes, male and female; during 40 days they created all the planets. And at the dawn of the 41st day, they embraced themselves and left the earth to leave the human being to do what they have to do. And those snakes are called aida-wedo, which means what belongs to the earth belongs to you. And when those gods come to reward somebody who works for a community, they come in terms of rainbow. And they call these two rainbows rainbow snake. And in Haiti, they call it aida-Houeda, and everything stays like that because, what is very important for me is the care of each other. That's what Catholic religion teaches us: You have to love each other. God doesn't send us on the earth to kill each other. He sent us for us to use our brain and our self-conscience to work for a better life for every individual and for everybody. And that's one of the things I really appreciate, too, in the Voodoo religion, where we deal with community.
     NH: Well, I like that you can take both of those beliefs because animism itself, or Voodoo, is obviously really a belief of everything having a purpose and everything having a soul and everything having a reason, and taking the caring part of the Catholic religion and putting it together. That makes sense to me. Anyway, why don't we have some more music, and then we'll come back and talk some more in a little while. What's the next piece you're gonna play for us?
     AK: The next song I wanna sing is gonna be an a capella song a singer from Togo next door to Benin used to sing. It's called "Blewu," and that singer was one of my biggest influences, too, in Africa. She died in a car accident in 1973, and it was a loss for us in West Africa because she was very big. And "Blewu" means, it's a thanking song that we used to sing when everybody joined for a drum or for a concert, and we ask the Almighty to send everybody back home safe, with no harm to anyone. So, for the listeners outside, this is my thanking for them sitting down or driving their car listening, this song is dedicated to everybody.
     NH: On Morning Becomes Eclectic at KCRW, it's Angelique Kidjo.
     AK: (sings "Blewu")
     NH: Angelique Kidjo live on Morning Becomes Eclectic. That was beautiful a capella piece. Thank you so much.
     AK: Pleasure.
     NH: OK, so we're talking about the fact, I'm sort of backtracking now, how you started, you came to Paris, your career really began there, at least the Western part of your career. You're now living in New York City. How do you find New York City? How long have you been there?
     AK: A year. Almost a year, yeah.
     NH: And the community, it's a pretty different place from Paris.
     AK: Oh, it is different from Paris, and it's different from Africa where I come from. What I like about New York is the energy in that city. I mean, it's moving non-stop. And when you are in New York, you have an idea of how the world can look like. You have every kind of different person, different parts of the world there. You have Asia, you have Latin America, you have Africa, you have North America, you have Europe, you have everybody living in New York City. And I like the energy, and I like the way you work there. When you wake up in the morning, you wanna do something, they can be efficiently used, and boom, have things done, and I like that.
     NH: It's certainly a city of many, many, many different cultures. Los Angeles is, too, but I would think that New York is probably even more diverse.
     AK: Absolutely, and I like that. I'm somebody who likes to challenge and mix things and mix people. I like that.
     NH: And you were saying that your next stop is going to be Brazil. You want to live in Brazil at some point?
     AK: Yeah, I'm going to go to Salvador Bahia to start with to write because the Salvadorian people have a very close history with my village. The first colonist that arrived in Benin was a Brazilian white man called Francisco de Souza. He arrived and he was very close friends of the king. And he was married to different women there, he had a lot of kids, and you have a huge, big community of mixed kids between Brazilian white people and Beninese women. And there is an anecdote about this guy that arrived that explains completely how things happen like this today, how slavery was possible, and how the relationships are still in Africa. As I was saying before, he was a friend of the king. And they had a fight, I think he betrayed the king. and when you betray a king, they kill you.
     NH: Not a good guy to betray.
     AK: No.
     NH: Not the king.
     AK: So in the Voodoo religion, there are two colors that you can't play around with: red, which is the color of the blood that links animals and human beings together, and the color white, which is the color that we wrap the god and goddesses in, meaning, it is the light, it has nothing to do with the dark. So because he was white, they couldn't kill him. So the king said, "Why don't you dye him with indigo?" So they dyed that guy with indigo and they tied him up outside in the backyard, but he was looking at them, his eyes were blue. They were like, "This is weird; he's not a black man, we can't kill him. Let us let him go." So they let him go, and he moved from the Kingdom of Abomey to my village. So, the people that come from Benin and go to Salvador Bahia, they came back, and they influenced the traditional music of my village. There are a lot of things that sound like samba and like the drum of the olodoum. And they came back, too, and built up a museum in my village. So when you go to my village and you visit my village, you have two museum. You have the museum of Benin, with the beginning of the colonization and the slavery -- the people that came back, the Cubans came back, the Brazilian people came back, the Haitian people came back, to influence the music itself and the way of life. And you have the museum of the Salvadorian people that came back to Benin and built up a museum. So, people tell me that going to Salvador Bahia is just like my village, so I wanna go there.
     NH: So you wanna go check it out.
     AK: Oh, yeah.
     NH: Do you get back to Benin, to your own village very often? Do you return?
     AK: Oh, yeah, I try once a year.
     NH: To go home, you still have family?
     AK: I have my dad, my mom, my family, my uncles, my aunts, and cousins.
     NH: So it's always good to go back and make that connection.
     AK: I need to go.
     NH: I think we have one more song prepared for us, which looking at the time here, I think we've got time to do that and probably come back and chat just a little bit more after this. What's the next song you're gonna play for us?
     AK: "Malaika," which is a traditional song from Tanzania and from East Africa, I will say, because there is fight between the Tanzanian who wrote it, who didn't write it, I don't wanna get involved in that.
     NH: You just wanna sing it.
     AK: I just wanna sing it. And it's a love song which means "I love you, my angel."
     (sings "Malaika")
     NH: Beautiful piece of music, "Malaika" is the title of the song; traditional piece of music, as you said, made famous by Miriam Makeba.
     AK: Absolutely.
     NH: Angelique Kidjo, thanks so much for coming in and visiting with us.
     AK: Pleasure.
     NH: Here this morning. For our listeners, I should let them know that your CD is in stores, Oremi is the name of the album, it's on Island Records.


CAFE L.A.
Saturday, 10/3/98
KCRW * 89.9 * Santa Monica, CA

     Tom Schnabel: I'm Tom Schnabel. I'm very delighted to bring Angelique Kidjo to our microphones. Once again, I don't know whether you've been here or not. You came here once before or
     Angelique Kidjo: Yeah, I think it was, hmmm. It was...
     TS: Maybe a couple . . .
     AK: This summer. It was July, I think.
     TS: Oh, really? That's fairly, fairly recent. You are from Benin.
     AK: Yes.
     TS: Which used to be called Dahomey.
     AK: Dahomey, yes.
     TS: The French grabbed it to prevent the British and the Germans from getting it when the Europeans attacked Africa at the end of the 19th century and carved it up, right?
     AK: Yeah, first they threw out the Brazillian Portuguese people because the first ones that arrived were the Brazillian Portuguese people before the French. And when they came, they kicked them out as they did in Togo, they kicked the Germans out.
     TS: Now Benin is primarily agricultural. Did you grow up in a village or in the city?
     AK: I grew up in a city and a village because I went back and forth. I can't say that my village is a huge village. It's kind of a little city because it's on the sea, and most of the white people came from that village because they came from the sea and the border and they came in, and that's where the slavery started. That's where they shipped the slaves, but it's still a village.
     TS: You got your start, didn't you, with your brothers in the late 70s.
     AK: Oh, yeah. I started with my brothers because they decided that they wanted to have a musical group, very modern, that wouldn't have anything to do with the traditional music itself. They wanted to be a cover group. So that's how I got to be introduced to music that comes from around the world because they would cover people like Stevie Wonder, James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, Carlos Santana, the Beatles, all the different music that comes from all around the world. And I would sit down and grab it. And I started singing, of course, with them covering songs, too, like French songs and that kind of stuff.
     TS: How did you hear these songs? Did you hear them on the radio? Did you buy cassettes? Did you hear them in clubs or what?
     AK: I heard some of them on the radio, and of course, my brothers bought a lot of LPs, so we had all of them at home. So we played them over and over. So while they were rehearsing, I was learning at the same time with them, even if I did not speak English at that time. I just learned the political part of the language.
     TS: Were your parents musical?
     AK: My father used to play banjo, and my mother was a choreographer. I started with my mother, basically, when I was six years old in her theater group. So I started in the theater before becoming a singer.
     TS: We're delighted to have you here, and we're delighted to play your music, and we're delighted that you're playing a couple, actually a big show tomorrow night at the House of Blues, and I guess the Walt Disney Company is involved with that?
     AK: Yeah, they are involved because I did the song "We Are One" on the second part of the Lion King, the Pride Rock, and we just shot the video last week, and they're gonna come and meet me. And I'm gonna be very pleased to meet them because for me singing for children is a challenge because it's another audience that has nothing to do with the hypocrisy of the grown-up audience. The kids will like it, or they don't like it, and they don't know how to lie about that. That's what I like about it, and it's very, very intense and very challenging to sing for kids. This is my second participation with Disney because when I was in France, Disney/France approached me to do a duet with a singer called Debbie Davis, a duet of "Hakuna Matata." So this is the second time I'm working for Disney.
     TS: This show tomorrow night is at the House of Blues. I guess the reception is a private reception, and the show is at 10:00, correct?
     AK: Yeah.
     TS: And you also have a signing tomorrow, I guess it's at Hear Music in Santa Monica.
     AK: Absolutely.
     TS: At 3:00.
     AK: I wanted to be there because the last time I was at the Hear, record stores were doing the in-store with Daniel Lanois and another guy. And the guy from Hear Music said, "We have been looking forward to having you for such a long time, and you never can come here because your schedule is so packed, and your record company never gave us the ability." And I'm like, "OK, next time I'll make sure that you're gonna be the priority." So when we started the tour, I told them, "My priority will be Hear Music, and we have to do so." So they took it. "We'll do it." And I met them in San Francisco, and I told them, "I want to go to the one in Santa Monica" because I like that store. It doesn't look like any other record store. You enter that store, you feel like a little bit home because it's a roof all around, and the atmosphere of it, and I love it.
     TS: That's at Tower and Sunset.
     AK: I didn't say that. I don't want trouble from my staff. You said so. I didn't say anything. You're witnesses here, I didn't say a word.
     TS: All right, let's get back to a piece, this is a piece, I don't think, Swahili is not the language of Benin.
     AK: Absolutely not.
     TS: Yeah, it's, of course, French. And of course, the original language is what?
     AK: Fon.
     TS: Fon.
     AK: Yeah, F-O-N.
     TS: F-O-N. But you're singing this in Swahili because, well, why? I guess it's because Miriam Makeba first sang it in Swahili.
     AK: Well, yeah.
     TS: And it's an old, old song called "Malaika."
     AK: That song was one of the first songs that I sang by myself. And of course, Miriam Makeba made it famous in the 60s. And my mother speaks Swahili and other languages. So I grew up listening to her and her mother speaking different languages that come from the center of Africa. So when I picked up "Malaika," she was like, "Wow! I love that song." So now, it's one of my favorite songs, and it's one of the favorite songs of my mother. She wants me to sing it the day she passes away, and I don't know if I can do that, but I'm gonna be thinking about that, I have a lot of time to think about that.
     TS: Could you tell us what the words of "Malaika" mean?
     AK: "Malaika" means "angel." "Nakupenda Malaika" means "I love you, my angel." It's a love song from a man to a woman, and he loves a very wealthy girl, and very beautiful, and he was one of the poorest men in the village. And everybody would laugh at him going, "Are you crazy? She's not gonna love you; you have nothing." But he wrote that song, saying, "I have no money, but I have one rich for sure that you can have 'til I die is my love." And that made it happen.
     TS: So he got the girl.
     AK: Oh, yes.
     TS: Good for him. Angelique Kidjo is our guest here at Cafe L.A. this afternoon here at 89.9, KCRW.
     [plays "Malaika"]
     TS: Traditional song sung, well not a traditional song, but a song made famous in the 60s by Miriam Makeba, sung here by Angelique Kidjo. The song in Swahili is called "Malaika," and you heard the story at the outset. Angelique Kidjo is our guest here at Cafe L.A. She performs tomorrow night at the House of Blues, a big show, as well as an in-store appearance at Hear Music in Santa Monica on the Promenade at 3:00.
     We're gonna play a song next, Angelique, a famous song from Jimi Hendrix, called "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)." You perform a lot of different kinds of repertoire. Do people ever say, "Hey, you're an African musician, you're supposed to perform African music." Do they ever take you to task for that?
     AK: Well, I'm very interested to know what people call African music. Africa is a continent, it's not a country. In every country, you have so many different rhythms, so many different languages that to call the music that comes from a continent African music is kind of an insult, I think. And I come from the South of Benin. Benin might be a very small country with only 5 million people, but we speak 50 different languages. And in terms of rhythms, I hardly can count them. I don't even know all of them. So who can sit in the Western world and tell me what I should do when even me, myself, I don't know where my roots come from. So, I sing the music I like, basically. That's it. I have been listening to different music since I was a child. And my parents always taught us, "Racism starts when you start to put colors and people of color in music. If you don't understand it, why don't you let your emotions get you to the point where you can get inside the music?" That's how I learned music. That's how I started listening to music I learned. And I write music still today with my ears. I don't play any instrument apart from percussion, and I don't want to use a computer. I'm not a computer girl. And I always follow my instinct. I always follow my ears and what comes to my head, what comes from my heart, I just sing it. So if people don't find it African, that's their problem, it's not mine. It's none of my business.
     TS: Do you remember the first time you heard Jimi Hendrix's music? Were you in Benin?
     AK: I was nine or ten years old. My brother was making the cover of "Hey, Joe." And he was learning two songs at the same time, "Hey, Joe" and "Samba Pa Ti" from Carlos Santana. So he would switch from one to another. And I would sit down there and listen to him all afternoon. And for me, in terms of guitar-playing, if you talk about guitar players, those were my two biggest influences on the guitar.
     TS: Jimi Hendrix.
     AK: And Carlos Santana.
     TS: And Carlos Santana. We'll feature it next. It's from your latest album called Oremi. What does "oremi" mean? I know that King Sunny Ade had an album called Oremi as well.
     AK: Oh, yeah?
     TS: It's an African word?
     AK: It's a Yoruba word, and King Sunny Ade is Yoruba. And the mother of my mother is Yoruba, so I have Yoruba roots too. And I have a part of my family in Nigeria. "Oremi" means "friend" or "friendship," it depends in which occasion you use it. I call this album "Friend" because I have a collaboration of friends on this album because I didn't know before we became friends when we were working together because they were moved by the project itself. I wanted to do a trilogy, and this is the first part of the trilogy because when you're 10 years old, and you hear about slavery, you don't know, really, what that means, basically. And I grew up knowing that African black people only lived in Africa. And when the TV coverage started to come home, and I started to see people like Jimi Hendrix, or James Brown, or Stevie Wonder, and Aretha Franklin, those people were black, I was like, I turned to my parents and asked them, "I thought it was only in Africa we have black people. So how come that there are other black people outside that aren't singing in African languages? What's going on?" So that's how they started explaining to me that those black people that had been there had been brought to America because of slavery. OK, 10 years old, what do you understand about it? And five years later, there was that movie of Alex Haley called Roots that had been played in school. And then suddenly you realize that, "Woo, slavery was something that was not that nice, that was not human even to think about." And it meant a lot. My 15th year had been a year of shock. It was the year I discovered that slavery had been existing and the year I discovered Apartheid in South Africa. So in a way, I decided musically, I'm gonna go and meet the black people all over the world musically because to know the fact that black people live outside of Africa surprised me. So I wanted to go back and try to build a bridge between the African continent and everywhere where they have been.
     TS: That's interesting. I remember Fela once telling me that he'd never heard of anything about black power or any sort of political power until he came to America. And he said he'd never seen any dashikis or anything like that until he came to America and saw them, actually, here in Los Angeles and in New York. And he became politicized, actually, here in the late 60s, and then of course, took that back and challenged the government of Nigeria, which is taking a big risk.
     AK: It is. He devoted his life to his country because he believed that good can happen in Nigeria. And I have a lot of respect for Fela because he could have lived outside and had a very wonderful life, but his choice was not that because for him, living outside in a wealthy world when his people were dying was not what he wanted. And few artists in Africa have that conscience because if we all had the conscience that Fela had, I think the political situation in Africa would never be as it is today. And we need people like Fela more because me, I was obliged to leave the Communism dictatorship, to be able to live, to be able to exist in terms of an artist. And thank God, now Benin turned to democracy. And everything I have been through, all the suffering I have been through, living in Europe all that time. When I arrived, I was a student, and my brother was a student, so we were not rich, so sometimes it was very hard. The only thing you have before you go to bed is a glass of water. But you know that you're fighting for something. And all I have been doing, and all I'm fighting for today, in a way, I wanna go back home and build up a lot of different things: schools for kids, hospitals, and a musical place for all Africans. That's the only way to help, perhaps, to wake people's conscience about the fact that we can't sit down and accept everything that arises. We have to move if we want things to change.
     TS: Angelique Kidjo is with us here at Cafe L.A. here on 89.9, KCRW. She performs tomorrow evening at the House of Blues in Hollywood. Also an in-store at 3:00 at the Santa Monica Promenade at Hear Music.
     [plays "Voodoo Child"]
     TS: Music of Jimi Hendrix here performed by Angelique Kidjo, who's our guest here at Cafe L.A.
     Did you go to Paris to live, or did you visit there before? What was it like going from Benin and arriving in Paris and sort of seeing a Central European capital for an African person?
     AK: To go there and visit was different. I was there a couple of years for a month before I moved there, so it was fun. So I didn't really see the bad side about it. I was having fun; my father was with me, and when I needed money, I grabbed my father's wallet, took my money and walked out. I was fine. But, going and staying and being yourself was like, "Woo!" another whole story. It was very difficult, especially when you come from a very loving family where you know that anything happens, somebody's always gonna be there to back up and support. When you arrive in Europe, and someone's dying on the floor, no one will stop. And people will look right into you and walk away. I'm like, "Oh, welcome to the world of human being." It was kind of disappointing. And being a student and having these stupid questions from students asking me, "You arrive on the monkey back?" or "Did you arrive on an elephant back?" I'm like, "Hey, get out of here. We're in 1983, you're still asking those stupid questions?" They're like, "Yeah. You have cars?" I'm like, "Oh, man, what is going on here?" And it had been like that for a year, then I told them, "You know what? Give me a break. I don't ask you if you still wear the clothes of the 18th Century. Give me a break, man, leave me alone. Why did you ask me such a stupid question?" And they go, "Oh, you have no sense of humor." As soon as you refuse any racist joke, you have no sense of humor. And that drove me nuts and still drives me nuts now 'cause it's still the same thing going on. You walk in the store in Paris, and most of the time you get in the store, you go, "Hello." Everybody looks at you, silence. I'm like, "Uh-huh, OK." Next step, "How much is this?" Mmm-mmm, no answer. You grab the thing, they'll ask you if you have money to pay. I'm like, "OK." Next step, "How much is this?" And I'm a very patient person. To push me to be impolite, you really have to push hard. And sometimes, they really push hard. So I just -- I just stay away from them.
     TS: I wanna ask you one other question, actually a couple of questions. First, Bob Marley has inspired a lot of African musicians probably more-so than any other person.
     AK: Absolutely. I discovered Bob Marley when I was in college, and it was our anthem. Every time we went to school, we had Bob Marley everywhere, everybody had Bob Marley on headphones, everybody had dreadlocks because his words were what you wanted to say without being able to say it and put it like that. And it was a great thing for all those students that were learning English and were being very reluctant to English to learn from Bob Marley's words because they could sing along with Bob Marley, then that brought attention to the language. And the day he died, everything just stopped. No school, nobody went to school. Everybody was like, "We can't think. Our hero died." And he was big in Africa more than anybody else can figure out how he would be. It was a quiet day because we were all expecting that one day he might come to Benin, and we were all waiting for that concert. That was gonna be the concert of the century, and he never made it. I never saw him on stage, and I'm very sad about that.
     TS: I remember once interviewing someone who went to Africa. He was with other Africans, and they went out and they were sitting somewhere near a campfire. And they put the cassette into the boom box. "Well, what have you been listening to?" the visitor asked the Africans. "Well, let's listen to some." And they put on some Dolly Parton. The guy says, "Why are you listening to Dolly Parton?" And the African guy said, "Well, because we believe what she's saying." Are there people that one might not associate you with that have inspired you, like country/western singers or anybody else you'd like to name?
     AK: I have been inspired a lot by people like Aretha Franklin earlier, Mahalia Jackson, Dinah Washington, of course James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, of course, you've all heard no doubt about that one, the Beatles a lot. I listened a lot to the Rolling Stones, too, Temptations, all the Motown was in my house. And we used to watch the TV and see the people that came from here, and we'd dress like that. We'd have the Afro. In Africa everybody was wearing Afros. It was flare pants. We were all wearing that. And Miriam Makeba is a big influence in my life, too. And the thing that music does to me, basically, is it gives me the ability of dreaming, dreaming about a better future for my country and for myself. And my father used to tell me all the time when I woke up, I'm like, "I dreamed that I walked with that and that and I met that and that," and my father goes, "That's what dreams are about. At least you can achieve something while you are dreaming. If it doesn't happen, you had the pleasure of dreaming it already. If it happens, you have a double pleasure." So, music makes my imagination work a lot to believe, and I still believe that through music, we can make a better world 'cause music is the only thing that brings us together. And music is something that goes through everybody's heart, every single person's heart. And it's an intimacy. You listen alone to music, and the music speaks to you, and when music inspires you to do such-and-such-and-such a thing, no one else can tell you what to do in terms of making a decision to take another step. And that's the power that the politicians don't have.
     TS: Our time is up. Angelique Kidjo, thanks so much for coming in and vising us here at Cafe L.A. today.
     AK: Pleasure.
     TS: Pleasure.
     AK: This is the second time in the same year. You're going good this year.
     TS: We're Angelique fans. We're gonna conclude with a song that I would imagine is about the African goddess of the sea.
     AK: Yemandja.
     TS: Yemandja.
     AK: Yeah, absolutely. It is.
     TS: Thanks so much for coming in today.
     [plays "Yemandja"]