In 1978, Berlin cameras captured rare professional footage of Fela Kuti performing. The set included ‘V.I.P (Vagabonds In Power)’, ‘Power Show’, ‘Cross Examination’, and a song Fela had been playing since ’76: ‘Pansa Pansa’.
The vast band includes three congas, claves, and shekere, all adding extra fidgetiness to Tony Allen’s drums. ‘Pansa Pansa’ opens with only the percussion section, with heavy emphasis on the fourth beat of each bar. The 15 minutes are full of restless polyrhythms and percussion, even by Arika 70 standards. (Incidentally, this Berlin gig was the beginning of the end of the band, after Fela used the proceeds to fund his presidential campaign. Egypt 80 was soon born.)
Fela references the “underground spiritual game”, as he does on other songs, which was his term for band-and-audience interaction. Fela says, “because our own kind of spiritualism is not accepted by the hierarchy, we call it the ‘underground spiritual game’.”
Another term, “underground system”, described the opposite: “the network of secret conclaves through which military and political elites conspired together to silence emergent leaders who threatened the status quo”, per FelaKuti.com. (A studio recording of ‘Pansa Pansa’ was eventually released on 1992’s Underground System, his last album.)
After nearly two minutes of percussion and Fela speaking to the crowd, bass and guitar join in. At 2:54, Fela plays a lead saxophone line; the tone of his instrument is striking after almost three minutes without any horns. When he’s done, Fela stomps down on the One, with the percussion players joining in on that beat. It seems to signal the end of a section and perhaps some restbite, but immediately after, the claves introduce a new polyrhythm. The band are only just getting started, and at 3:10 Fela counts down the horn section to introduce the song’s motif, with their second note heavy on the One.
The horn section sounds like it is comprises 10 or 15 players, but there are only five (and Fela is often on keys and/or singing). As well as Fela, there are two more saxophonists: Lenkan Animashaun and Christopher Uwaifor; and two trumpeters: Oye Shobowale and Tunde “Baba Tunde” Williams (one of the members described by David Corio as a “performing genius”).
At 3:49, Fela releases a guttural “Aaahhh!” before the next section, with the accompanying players repeatedly playing a single tormented-sounding, dissonant chord. Fela plays a flurry of notes between and over them, never forgetting rhythm; his later phrases join the other players on the One.
Soon, shekere player Isaac Abayomi gets so into the groove he wanders across stage and dances in front of Fela, who then signals for Williams to solo. The trumpeter starts slowly, before a quick run of notes expertly leads back into the accompanying riff. Williams finishes with some lower register, bluesy phrases as Fela signals to quieten down. Fela thrice repeats “Baba Tunde” in appreciation. The backing singers, dressed in purple, contrasting with the band’s yellow, come on stage, and Fela starts the vocal section.
“Pansa” (“Pánsá”) is a Yoruban word “usually injected into poetry to express an uncomfortable, uncensored, and inconvenient truth”, writes Kemi Seriki. Fela’s song is a call to action; he sings that until there is unity, “freedom”, “happiness” and “belonging” in Africa, he will continue to cause chaos. In the first verse, Fela references past songs as proof: ‘Kalakuta Show’, ‘Zombie’, ‘No Bread’, ‘Monkey Banana’, and ‘Go Slow’. Fela seemingly had no fear.
On ‘Fear Not For Man’, released the same year, he quoted Kwame Nkrumah. (Femi, Fela’s son, references Nkrumah in ‘Wonder Wonder’: “African unity started in the early ’60s / Na Kwame Nkrumah”). ‘Fear Not For Man’ quotes, “The secret of life is to have no fear.” Fela routinely criticised the most powerful people in his country and abroad, and openly smoked and touted the purported benefits of weed, illegal in Nigeria.
Lindsay Barrett writes, “Before his trip to the USA, Fela had neither smoked nor drank. He was a serious and committed musician, definitely no libertine.” Sometime after his return to Nigeria, Fela sheepishly approached his bandmates to admit he’d been smoking weed. Tony Allen and co were unfazed – they did too.
At 9:22, there’s a brief, cathartic explosion, with the whole band stepping up their rhythms and the conga players playing particularly frenetically. This joyous release thankfully returns at 12:29, with more band members dancing.
Fela has his own horn solo, or more accurately a duet with the audience. After telling the them to “just repeat what I play on my horn”, Fela laughs at his own mistake. “That’s a mistake,” he says after playing one phrase, the backing singers singing “Hey!”. Fela clarifies, “All you have to shout – sorry – you just shout, ‘Hey!’ to the rhythm. Hey! Hey! Understand now? Let’s get together. Let’s go.” The underground spiritual game is underway.