Donal Dineen's Sunken Treaure: Orchestre Poly Rythmo de Cotonou - The Voudon Effect

In 1960s West Africa, the melting pot was brewing up a very different storm

The name Orchestre Poly Rythmo de Cotonou is often preceded by the initials “TP” or “tout puissant” –sticking “all powerful” before your name is a bold way to announce your arrival. The boys from Benin weren’t just talking the talk, however. Their high impact sound doesn’t so much introduce itself at the door as storm into your house and give the walls a shaking.

They recorded more than 500 songs between 1966 and 1983, most of them at breakneck speed and not a single ballad among their number. These tunes were made with dancing feet in mind. A celebratory air cuts through the lot. The songs tend to burst into action with all the excitement of opening night at the funfair. The hypnotic percussion and pulsing basslines have an ancient feel but there’s a distinctly modern psychedelic twist to proceedings and new colours everywhere.

This was a pivotal time in West African music as the reverberations from America’s funk, soul and R&B revolutions began to make waves in the homeland. The melting pot was brewing up a very different storm. The ancient propulsive rhythms that drove the new sound in Benin could be traced back to the kingdom of Dahomey, which supplied as much as 20% of the slave trade from the region to Europe and the Americas.

Everything was coming full circle. There was change in the air and the spread of a fired-up hybrid sound was transforming the musical mindset of the region. The Orchestre quickly established a spot at the top of the pecking order. Their charismatic founder Malome Clement was the musical visionary that put it all altogether.

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He moulded an evolving line‐up of many parts and players into a distinctive dynamic whole. Sparks fly in every direction with joyous guitar lines, sharp edged horns and groovy organ stabs vying for space but it all gels together. The soulful voice of Vincent Ahehehinnou is the golden thread that holds it all down. When he sings, he soars. He’s ably supported by the relentless dexterity of drummer Amenoudji Joseph, who gives the afrobeat king Tony Allen from neighbouring Nigeria a run for his money.

This music has considerable swagger. There’s a confident strut to its soulful gait. Clearly a new flag was being unfurled here. Tectonic plates were shifting and foundations shaking as a whole new generation rattled and rolled in unison.