Remembering the legendary soul explosion of Zaire 1974. By BRANNAVAN GNANALINGAM.

ONE OF THE key aspects of Black Consciousness in the States in the late 60s and early 70s was harking back to Africa. A cultural shift occurred in trying to re-establish ties back to what was taken away through slavery and colonialism. This process occurred within popular music – and the seismic shifts can still be felt within contemporary music. Genres like funk, soul, disco, jazz and the soon-to-become hip-hop scenes, and superstars like Miles Davis and James Brown were throwing in African (pardon the gross simplification) polyrhythms, instrumentation, and harmonies into their music. But that’s only part of the story. Within the African continent, considerable musical development was occurring. New outrageously brilliant genres like high-life, mbalax, afrobeat, Afrofunk, etc. were making a mockery of conceptions of a unified “African” sound. So it was inevitable that one day these would collide. Soul Power captures such a moment, when talent from the United States and around the African continent met in Kinshasa, the capital of then-Zaire for a three day music festival known as “Zaire 1974”. Jeffrey Levy-Hinte’s documentary includes some incredible music, and though it’s a little light on the “African” musicians, it’s still an excellent account of a great show.

Zaire 1974 was made to coincide with the now legendary Muhammed Ali/George Foreman Rumble in the Jungle fight in Kinshasa. To celebrate, US stars like James Brown, BB King, Bill Withers, and the Crusaders performed alongside South African ex-pat Miriam Makeba, and Cuban Celia Cruz. The breadth of the music is astonishing – funk, guitar ballads, salsa, blues, doo-wop etc. Particular highlights include Miriam Makeba’s ‘Qongqothwane’, and the Fania All-Stars and Cella Cruz performance. Of course, the showstopper was James Brown (who opened and closed the Festival), and his reputation as one of the all-time great live performers is further evidenced in this documentary.

The film is shot in cinéma-vérité style, with no voice-over or explanation of what’s necessarily going on. In this respect, it aims to mimic other music documentaries of that time period – Gimme Shelter, Woodstock, Monterey Pop, Don’t Look Back – which had little overlay but used compelling imagery and juxtapositions to drive the story. We hear the artists speak about how amazing it was “to go back” (though the “African” artists aren’t given as much voice, which is perhaps the biggest flaw in the film) while a few other randoms like Don King or the truly magnetic Muhammed Ali get to tear up the screen. This means there is little editorial comment, which is a good thing if one is interested in the music, and awkward if one is interested in Mobutu and his kleptocracy and his role in the whole thing. But the music is wonderful, particularly when the artists are improvising (the plane ride, backstage, on the street) and highlight how they’re clearly having some fun. And when James Brown sings “Say It Loud - I’m Black and I’m Proud” over the credits, it’s hard not to realise the significance of what was going on for the musicians.