Coming into town to see one of Africa's legendary performers and his band was an opportunity I simply couldn't miss. Yes Dublin...Kanda Bongo Man in Dublin! It has been said that if you are unable to dance at one of his gigs, you most probably need an ambulance. Well O'Connell Street is a rough area, anything could go on in that stretch of central Dublin, and tonight there were no ambulances outside the Ambassador.
Quite why the event happened in the Ambassador I don't know. In my view, even though it was easy enough to get to, the staff were as surly as heavy-weight boxers on the brink of a knockout over their opponents. Not particularly friendly and my digital camera was forced to go into the cloakroom, which I wasn't too pleased about. Sans photos!
I don't know what has happened to Dublin. Along with the 'Celtic Tiger', the women have, even the native locals, become increasingly more beautiful, and there was a fair quota of vixens here to see KBM. Oh God the excitement!... and I haven't even mentioned KBM's dancers yet. Molly Malone would probably have botox injections if she were around today.
In my naive way I thought I might even score tonight, but that was a fantasy. I am convinced that I have had a romance bypass, if such a thing is possible. "Nice guy but I don't want to leave my boyfriend for him with his loud voice and fat belly". A tip to all single men - don't get called a nice guy, it's the kiss of death and is code for "I don't want you near me."
Anyway as in showbiz parlance, the show must go on girlfriend or no girlfriend, and KBM was, as I expected, a real treat. He had, it was announced, been delayed on the M50 but the announcer, a wonderful woman from Nigeria who works in the Africa Centre in Dublin, made it clear we were going to have a fun time. The audience were requested to turn to each other and embrace, which I did to a nice girl beside me - she seemed to find this incredibly amusing!
KBM came to the stage and with arms aloft the party started. I had grown up listening to KBM and other African music stars from when I was a teenager. When my colleagues were busy listening to Madonna and Metallica, I was putting my KBM LP on the turntable. I particularly enjoy Soukous (the type of music that KBM specialises in), a terrific style of southern African dance music - you simply cannot ignore its rhythm and I always found it immensely uplifting to listen to. I'm convinced if it were played to suicidal patients in a mental hospital, their symptoms would be eased somewhat. That is the power of the music.
All through the gig I danced and at one stage I thought I might melt into a stream of Ice Cream - the sweat was pouring off me! The LP I listened to back in 1988 when I first heard KBM was called "Non stop, Non stop" and I think that perfectly describes his music, for the music is more or less continously played. If the statue of Daniel O'Connell, on O'Connell Street, had been relocated to the Ambassador for the night's gig, I think it would have moved by it's own accord.
If I had one criticism, I would have preferred a touch more guitar which, I think, is central to what Soukous is all about. I kept shouting for him to play "Iyole", one of my favorite KBM songs but it fell on deaf ears. No matter, everything else was wonderful. Another bonus to the music was the female dancers that the band had with them. They wore traditional African dress and I have to say they were damn sexy. Any Irish ladies doing that would probably been pole dancers but these dancers were very tasteful in what they were doing and, like most African women, they looked fantastic.
At the end of the gig I staggered out of the venue and someone asked was I alright: "Just back from the Congo" I cheekily replied. I would have been happy to stay although my energies were steadily being sapped as a result of all the dancing. As I walked back to the quays to get my bus, I could smell the competing odours of freshly smoked hash and the stink from the Liffey. I was definitely not in Africa, but I think I was just returning from the gig of the year and that smelt sweet enough for me.
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