Radio Planet 3

Adieu, I.K. Dairo

Isaiah Kehinde Dairo, MBE was born in Offa, Nigeria in 1930. The story goes that he became a barber's apprentice to make his way as a musician, but the story is known that he went on to become the father of modern juju music, a mix of African dance rhythms, Caribbean percussion styles and European popular and religious music. With his accordion and his creative flair, he introduced first the musicians of Nigeria, and eventually the world, to a new way to look at the traditions of Africa, to have pride in its history without ever being bound to its past. In the 1950s he founded and fronted the Morning Star Orchestra, later to be named the Bluespots, and made Nigerian music into an international phenomena later to be fueled by musicians like King Sunny Ade and Ebenezer Obey.

In 1963, Queen Elizabeth of England made him a Member of the British Empire, making him the only African musician to carry the MBE at the end of his name. His contributions to the culture of "The Empire" and the world were also recognized in his native Nigeria, where he was time and again hailed as one of the country's greatest living treasures. He published literally hundreds of records in his 50 years of performing.

He officially retired in 1991, only to be persuaded to make an American tour, and make new records released in America on the Music of the World and Xenophile labels, as well as reissues of his work on labels around the world. His new career was just reaching its peak again when he was struck down in February with complications from diabetes at the age of 65.

A memorial endowment is being created in I.K. Dairo's memory to support young musicians in Nigeria under the auspices of the King Sunny Ade Foundation based in Lagos. Contributions to the endowment may be sent to Rakumi Arts (a Washington state nonprofit). Please make any donations payable to Rakumi Arts and in the memo box write "I.K. Dairo endowment." Please mail donations to Rakumi Arts Int./ 3809 Wallingford Ave N./ Seattle, WA 981038245/ USA.

Adios, Astor

It's nearly four years since Astor Piazzolla died at the age of 71 and trepidation abounded when I saw these two "new" recordings hit the mailbox. While Luna [Hemisphere/EMI 8 35595] is a straight concert performance, unlikely to be altered, likely to give a romantic glimpse back at his music, 57 Minutos Con La Realidad [Intuition] is a "studio" recording mastered and rebuilt by Kip Hanrahan, and offered plenty of opportunity for rewriting history.

Amazingly, both recordings offer potent last looks at the music that brought "tango" into a new world of musical meaning and depth. Luna was recorded live in Amsterdam in June of 1989 with the sextet, and offers Piazzolla and his thencurrent band at the peak of their skills, freely mixing the romance and aggression that is at the heart of the tango, and twisting and turning it in ways only available to the creative spirit of Piazzolla.

57 Minutos is a different beast altogether. Kip Hanrahan helped shape some of Piazzolla's greatest works, and here he wanted to "finish" their last collaboration, posthumously. A risky venture, to be sure, and on the whole, one that Hanrahan may have approached with a little too much care. This CD was constructed from a July, 1989, BBC performance in England and a November, 1989, studio session in Germany. There were notes by Piazzolla on how he thought the sessions should be mixed, notes that Hanrahan traditionally followed, and then ignored on a second mix. It was usually those second mixes that we heard, and they were powerful interpretations that led to classic works like Tango: Zero Hour. Hanrahan clearly felt some constraint to follow the master's last wishes, and this album, while still brilliant, hints at what might have been had Piazzolla lived to overdub and remix one more time.

But all this aside, both albums offer a wealth of material new and old for anyone who needs adventurous music with a razor edge. Both also share different performances of what may become one of my all time favorite works by Piazzolla, "Cero Hora." Dark, foreboding bass lines, staccato piano bursts, and ominous trills from the bandoneons slink their way to a series of searing slides and shrieks for cello. Each has its own special qualities, the slower pacing of the Amsterdam version offers a much more eerie quality, while the harder edge of the Hanrahan mix gives it a visceral appeal.

So it goes with each of the pieces here, as we revisit live the wonderful "Tanguedia" and get to hear Piazzolla's selfproclaimed epitaph, "Prelude to the Cyclical Night" one last time. Adios, Astor.