Stuart Bogie: Press

Night Becomes Eclectic
Brooklyn melting-pot supergroup Volney Litmus keeps the fire and the conversation going
by Buzz Poole
February 16th, 2007 6:50 PM

For the first of their four Tuesday-night engagements at Zebulon this month, Volney Litmus opened with a loping, brassy fanfare, which backed up Jeremiah Lockwood's carny-barker bellow as he urged one and all to "come and say hello." Winter's bite had whisked everyone into the Williamsburg café's wood-paneled warmth, wherein Stuart Bogie—this semi-supergroup's ringleader, head writer, and producer—danced in the crowd when not blowing his sax, doing a little bellowing himself, or conducting his co-conspirators (Tom Abs's marching tuba, Jordan McLean's and Eric Biondo's flourishing trumpets) with gull-like motions. From there, Bogie (who also does time in the Brooklyn Afropop crew Antibalas) hustled behind a keyboard and cracked his mischievous I've-got-a-secret smile as the band did a syncopated tumbling act into "Blank Page, Good Gun," an electric-piano-heavy, makes-you-want-to-clap dance tune that declares, "You can walk against the world/With your love on your back."

Want to hear what a band that has collectively gigged with the likes of Antibalas, Janet Jackson, TV on the Radio, Tom Waits, Wu-Tang Clan, and Davy Jones (that's right, the Monkee) sounds like? Look no further. For the past couple of years, some of Bogie's favorite local musicians have played under the guise of Volney Litmus—be it in the studio or onstage, Bogie enthuses that the result plays "like the best mix tape ever."
That's been holding true at the Zebulon shows, which take on a clubhouse kind of feel—a room full of enthusiastic people conversing with song. These conversations range from Fast Times at Ridgemont High–worthy pop tunes to country-blues eulogies that lament the loneliness of life on the road, but it all fits together seamlessly—the work of dedicated, extraordinarily talented musicians off the clock at their main gigs, content to make music that has no expectations beyond keeping the conversation going.
That conversation doesn't necessarily sound like Afropop, but Bogie's arrangements echo that genre's ability to juggle multiple instruments and keep a big band from sounding muddy, even as swelling horns duel with fuzzy guitars. Such fusion creates beautiful moments: Consider Antibalas cohort Del Stribling singing Carole King's "So Far Away" as his bandmates lock into a perfectly pocketed groove. Volney Litmus is a gumbo of genres reflecting the band's varied palettes, but it's an unforced, self-aware eclecticism that doesn't try too hard and doesn't give a damn. Bogie spices and stirs, somehow knowing how to make it all come out just right: catchy, unexpected, and authentic.
Volney Litmus play Zebulon February 27, zebuloncafeconcert.com.

New Music: Antibalas: "Beaten Metal" [MP3]
If Antibalas needed a justification for dropping the Afrobeat Orchestra handle for their fourth album, Security, they needed to look no further than opening track "Beaten Metal". With the emphatic swagger of the Flaming Lips' "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Pt. 2" and the dexterously sharp grooves of Tortoise's "The Taut and Tame" (turtle John McEntire produced Security), this instrumental wonder is a new chapter for a band that's been testing the waters of tribute and artistry too long. Still, they cherish their Afrobeat ancestry, using a few repeated, interlocking parts to build a blazing anthem: Most of the instruments here are binary, either playing their parts or staying out of the way. The beaten metal pings of the title are in the mix or gone, and the horns that blow the top off a minute in are much the same when they reapply the seal four minutes later. They slide up and down scales, but they're spitting antiphonal fire at consistent intervals. No, this isn't Cage's "First Construction in Metal", but it's not "Expensive Shit", either. A bold move, executed perfectly.

Antibalas relishes big Afrobeat sounds, empowering messages

By MARY T. NGUYEN of the Tribune’s staff
Published Thursday, April 19, 2007
If lobbyists were more like Afrobeat artists, CSPAN might be more like MTV. That is, if MTV still played music.



Listen online
● “I.C.E.” by Antibalas from their latest album, “Security.” [MP3]

But they don’t, and it ain’t. But that isn’t stopping bands such as Antibalas from carrying on the Afrobeat tradition, entertaining audiences with orchestral brass and polyrhythmic percussion packed with political commentary.

"We think of music and art as things that can affect many, many people’s psychology and that it can appeal to the spark in many people," said Stuart Bogie, who plays tenor saxophone in Antibalas. "But because of the social situation, art is channeled through very narrow venues, and it’s limiting for both the artist and the audience."

The social situation to which Bogie refers is the marketing of the band, which can be difficult, even painful he said, when trying to introduce audiences to Afrobeat music, let alone its history and heritage.

Afrobeat combines elements of Yoruba music, jazz and funk with African percussive and vocal styles. The genre became popularized in the 1960s and ’70s with the emergence of Fela Kuti, a Nigerian multi-instrumentalist who is credited with coining the term Afrobeat and establishing the political context of the musical style.

Antibalas is often compared to and associated with Kuti, who, indeed, is a great musical influence to many of the band members, including Martin Perna, the band’s founder. But Bogie said the association can be an additional limiting factor when trying to introduce audiences not only to Afrobeat, but Antibalas’ Afrobeat.

"There’s a sort of practice in music of digesting the music that you love and turning it around and turning it into music that’s all your own," he said. "If you buy the same shoes as me, they’re still your shoes. Music is very much the same."

Born out of Brooklyn, N.Y., Antibalas began playing in 1998, a year after Kuti’s death, and introducing audiences to their distinct style of jazz, soul and funk-infused Afrobeat. Audiences responded well to the band, whose live show is known for being both lyrically and instrumentally interactive, inspiring the body to keep pace in a sort of musical march, matching the heartbeat to the propulsive beats while bouncing and gliding to the flowing melodies.

The result is a veritable rainbow of tonal layers, textures and colors - all of which is built upon the band’s political platform, meant to empower audiences as much as it is meant to entertain them.

"It’s a deep challenge," Bogie said. "It requires first and foremost humor because people don’t want to be patronized. Music can have humor built into it."

Bogie cites Jon Stewart and "The Daily Show" and "The Onion" as examples of entertainment that introduce ideas and opinions without being alienating. The band’s song "Indictment," for instance, shouts out the name of politicians the band feels should be regarded as criminals for their actions.

"When we scream ‘indictment,’ " Bogie said. "it’s sort of funny, sort of like a people’s court in a way. And we’re able to laugh at ourselves while we’re still saying what we believe."

The political message and the low presence of Afrobeat in the commercial music market make it a challenge for audience and artist to meet, let alone see eye to eye. But Bogie said people have to be given multiple opportunities to challenge themselves to discover and enjoy something new and different.

"If you anticipate the initial adversity you might have to high-quality music, high-quality art, and you challenge yourself to dig deeper inside of it, you will be rewarded," he said.

The reward for Bogie has been being a part of that experience, which far outweighs the challenges he faces as both a music fan and artist.

"I’m very close to the source of joy. I get to blow the horn," he said. "The joy in music that is meant for the broad audience - it may pain me that it’s not reaching them, but at the same time, I’m receiving this spiritual experience on a regular basis."


Reach Mary T. Nguyen at (573) 815-1704 or mtnguyen@tribmail.com.
ANTIBALAS

When: 8 p.m. today

Where: The Blue Note, 17 N. Ninth St.

With: Krudas Cubensi

How much: $15

Contact: 874-1944

Reviewed by Steven Hyden
April 10th, 2007
While many entertainers who dare share their political beliefs are admonished to "shut up and sing," others make activism an inherent part of their art. This was the case for African bandleader Fela Kuti, who married polyrhythmic, jazzy funk music with confrontational screeds against the sociopolitical powers oppressing his people in the late '60s, and ended up creating a new genre: Afrobeat. Western rock musicians like David Byrne and Brian Eno depoliticized Afrobeat when applying it to their own music, though the destabilizing adventurousness of Kuti's music made anything it rubbed up against sound revolutionary. Kuti disciple Antibalas puts the politics back into Afrobeat on its latest album, Security, peppering long, probing compositions with denunciations of the Bush administration.

With seven songs lasting about an hour, Security can be a challenging listen without a party and a packed dance floor. Only the cinematic lead-off track, "Beaten Metal," is immediately accessible; two songs drift past the 10-minute mark, and two others hang at around eight minutes. While Security never veers into directionless jamming—the longest song, "Filibuster XXX," is one of the most hypnotic tracks—Antibalas seems like it's better experienced onstage than in the relatively narrow confines of a studio.

Antibalas packs politics into its heartfelt tunes

By DAVID KRONKE
Los Angeles Daily News

Posted: April 21, 2007

Antibalas, the politically charged Brooklyn-based ensemble that meshes Afrobeat, Latin rhythms and any other appetizing world-music stylings it finds to its liking into a musical melting pot uniquely its own, is a dozen men strong. How have they managed to play some of the smaller venues on their tour?

Antibalas
If You Go
Who: Antibalas with Krudas Cubensi
When: 8 p.m. Thursday
Where: Pabst Theater, 144 E. Wells St.
How much: $10 at the box office, (414) 286-3663, and www.pabsttheater.org
Prices do not include service charges.
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"We've played in kitchens," Stuart Bogie, the group's tenor saxophonist, recalls with a laugh. "We get real close. In a lot of places, we're physically touching each other for the duration of the show."

"A lot of times, our best shows are on small stages," says Martin Perna, who assembled the group a decade back and plays baritone sax.

"We hear each other a lot better on small stages."

Antibalas (Spanish for bulletproof) broke through with its universally acclaimed 2004 recording "Who Is This America?" Its current release, "Security," continues the band's ascent with impossibly infectious, swinging grooves and heartfelt, defiant political idealism.

"Most of us would like to be singing about flowers, trees and love, but Afrobeat is a music of resistance," Perna says. "There are issues independent of major global geopolitics or American domestic policy. There's war going on, but people would get tired of an album of songs of how ridiculous and deceitful and expensive the war is."

To that end, "Security" begins with "Beaten Metal," a tune inspired by the fact that many of Germany's World War II weapons were melted down and turned into musical instruments. Perna says that lyrics were written for the song, but the group decided the vibe came across just as persuasively as an instrumental.

A decade of hardship

The band's professional ideology - what Perna calls "the idea of shared leadership, shared responsibility" - would seem to invite chaos, given its dozen musicians. And indeed, Bogie jokes, "Getting a song played by Antibalas is like getting a bill passed through Congress. You have to lobby people."

But Antibalas has endured a decade of hardship: Band members, finding themselves stranded in London, sold their records on the streets to accrue cash. They've slept on the floors of venue dressing rooms. They once traveled in a tour van whose radiator was so porous, they had to plop a raw egg into it every hour or so to keep it from springing major leaks. The entire group was strip-searched while trying to cross the Canadian border.

"It's a miracle we're still together, but that's so much about who we are - our music and that totally irresistible combination of spirit, rhythms and politics," Perna says.

"On the whole, (the struggle is) a good thing. It's kept us a little more in line. We're definitely privileged; we're living in New York City, and we pay our rent, if just barely. It's dangerous for artists to become accustomed to cushy living. On the other hand, it is nice to have a dressing room with a clean toilet and working light bulbs."

Bogie agrees, saying, "There's a power when we play music for an audience. Their kinetic energy fills our hearts. And that's important when you're traveling and staying in a hotel with bugs in the bed or someone has (urinated) in it.

"That isn't going to change, but the joy you get from the music isn't going to end, and that's the miracle."

Almost as cool, Bogie admits, is knowing that Matt Groening, creator of "The Simpsons," is a fan of the group.

"After the hours and hours I've spent watching 'The Simpsons,' " he says, "knowing he spent one hour watching us made us feel really happy."

Still, the band made up for its heavy touch with lots of sweat, enthusiasm and steam-driven energy. Lead singer Amayo, with face painted and chest bared, is a charismatic front man, a preacher of political axioms with the flair of a James Brown or even Fela himself. And when tenor player Stuart Bogie steps forward to count off a complicated ensemble riff, he does so with all the fist-punching spring of a college football mascot.

Flailing for the people: Sonic globetrotters Antibalas wring Madison dry
Emily Denaro on Thursday 04/26/2007 10:04:34,
Antibalas got the crowd moving at the High Noon on Wednesday night.
Credit:Emily Denaro
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Bearded men, women in patchwork skirts and others grooved to the muy caliente beats at the High Noon Saloon last night. Body odor, sweat and hints of nagchampa filled the room like a guest, mingling amid perspiring bodies and sublime smirks.

With any luck, the Middleton high schoolers who didn't buy prom tickets spent their allowance money on the Antibalas concert, where they could dance 'til the free love shot out of their ears (and other orifices they've yet to discover).

Antibalas' goes back 10 years and has grown into a fascinating blend of rhythms from across the world. The raw flavors of sunshine upon the jungle and the concrete were brought together in a sweltering blend of Afrobeat, dub, salsa, funk, jam rock, Harlem jazz, and more.

Songs did not just sound "nice." "Beaten Metal" was like the score to a Brazilian spy movie where the gods of thunder battle bad guys in white linen suits and sunglasses. Explaining or categorizing with mere adjectives would be a disservice to the music.

The flailing arms, jumping torsos and bobbing heads made it difficult to count how many men were on stage. With so many instruments -- from saxophone and bass guitars, to hand drums, keys and cymbals -- it was nearly impossible to nail down. The final count was 12 -- yes, 12 men crowded the stage to make these bombastic rhythms: one keyboardist, one percussionist, one shekere player, one kit player, two guitarists, a bassist, two on trumpet, two on saxophone, and one bass player. Crap, there was someone else -- another saxophonist! (I think.) Like I said, it was kind of wild in a major way.

Every player contributed, but there were definite standouts -- not to mention that some individuals were lost to the dark corners of the stage. Leader Amayo (percussionist and vocalist) performed in a trance, his face painted and pants shimmering. Saxophonist Stuart Bogie was also noteworthy, calling the shots from his side of the stage with wild fists and shouts of exultation.

By creating an environment wherein music moves the body and touches that nerve of joy, Anitbalas indeed proves bulletproof to anything but peace and harmony.

ANTIBALAS "Security" (Anti)

Antibalas' explicit mission is to carry on the legacy of Fela Anikulapo Kuti, the Nigerian originator of Afrobeat, who died in 1997. The Brooklyn 12-piece often stretches grooves for 10 minutes or so, trading leads among pointillist guitars, armies of horns, soulful keyboards, and rafts of percussion. Vocals, when present at all, tend to surface in the middle of a song as just one of many layers.

For "Security," their fourth album, Antibalas drafted producer John McEntire of the Chicago post-rock band Tortoise. Smart move. While "Filibuster X" offers credible ersatz Fela spiked with punk-funk energy, the general tone is less frenetic. But the band still cooks, from the brittle rhythms of "Beaten Metal" to the spacey dub of "Sanctuary" to the solemn horn fanfare in the middle of "I.C.E." Old fans of Talking Heads' "Remain In Light" or new ones of !!!'s Myth Takes should take note.

- S.K.

>> AFROBEAT ENSEMBLE WILL TAKE THE STAGE IN WASHINGTON AND CHARLOTTESVILLE ANTIBALAS BENDS TRADITION TO BLAZE ITS OWN PATH




Brooklyn, N.Y.-based Antibalas will perform next week at the 9:30 Club in Washington and Starr Hill in Charlottesville. The ensemble's new album, 'Security,' was released this month.



Antibalas expands beyond Afrobeat with innovative album, upcoming shows


Date published: 3/29/2007


BY JONAS BEALS

FOR THE FREE LANCE-STAR

In 1970, Nigerian musician and political activist Fela Kuti dubbed his unique new music "Afrobeat." It was a passionate combination of jazz, funk and the traditional chants of his homeland.


He used his music to inspire fans to rise up against the dictatorship that was crushing his country. A champion of democracy and human rights, his legend has continued to grow since his death in 1997.


Which brings us to Brooklyn, N.Y.-based Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra, and why they're reluctant to claim the very label they've placed on themselves.


To be sure, their music is akin to that of their inspiration. The 12-person Antibalas ensemble, whose name means "bulletproof" in Spanish, employs endless grooves and dizzying layers of rhythm that reproduce the Afrobeat sound, and their live shows have an energy and style resembling the late master's. Even so, they aren't exactly comfortable being compared to their hero.


"I don't think that at this stage in our career, we're interested in bearing the Afrobeat shield," saxophonist Stuart Bogie said. "It was just a title that Fela came up with to describe his own personal style of music. It wasn't a movement of music beyond him."


Antibalas might not be carrying the torch, but they are bending a tradition to blaze their own path. By taking a large cultural leap with traditionally African music, they educate American audiences in this unique art form, and they do it best when they take the stage.


Their trademark energy is undeniable in a live setting, and it is a major reason for their success here in the States. The group will play next week at the 9:30 Club in Washington and Starr Hill in Charlottesville.


Like Fela before them, Antibalas also is comfortable as a roaring political animal.

"We're fortunate to live in a free enough society that we've gotten away with it. So far. And we're going to continue to say what we feel," Bogie said.


While most of the music is instrumental, Antibalas still manages to insert lyrics that deal with delicate socioeconomic issues.


"I think making political statements with our music is important to everyone," Bogie said. "It's especially important to the people who hate us for doing it."


The music often reflects the tension that talking politics can create.


Hyper-energetic dance beats are the foundation for staccato horn blasts and phrases shouted as if they were campaign slogans. Which makes their new album, "Security," a bit of a surprise.


John McEntire, a member of the avant-jazz group Tortoise, produced the disc, and his influence is evident from the very first track.


"There are two ways you can go with a work of art," said Bogie. "You can go more, or you can go less."


On their new album, Antibalas chose the latter.


For a genre that seems to espouse a "more is more" philosophy when it comes to sound, Antibalas has successfully stripped their music to its essential components, bringing in the full sound only when necessary. It works well, and shows a willingness to expand beyond the Afrobeat label.


To Stuart Bogie, the continued artistic expansion of his band is a point of pride.

"I think," he said, "that musicians should appreciate their freedom, and celebrate it, and use that magic in their music to open people's minds."

A Dozen Dreamers:
The Bulletproff Boys of Antibalas
Erin Gillman

Issue date: 4/12/07 Section: Listen, Hear
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Media Credit: Photo Courtesy of anti.com
If two's company and three's a crowd...Antibalas must be one hell of a party!

"If we could put our music into words, why would we need to put out albums?"

According to Stuart Bogie, Antibalas' laid-back master of the tenor sax, music shouldn't be discussed or analyzed. Music is an experience and a passion, not a chemical compound to be broken down and pulled apart. For Bogie's group, indescribable is the perfect word to describe their music, despite its irony.

Funk, jazz and experimental indie mated and gave birth to a love child named Antibalas. Their name, the Spanish equivalent of the word bulletproof, matches their steel spirit and constant musical high. Nothing can bring these guys down.

Each of the 12 members is quirky and unique with special hobbies or habits which contribute to the whole. The boys play an array of instruments, including the electric piano, organ, clavinet, trumpet, tenor and baritone saxophones, shekere, guitar, trombone, trumpet, bass and drums. The eclectic mix fuses into contagious beats and off-the-wall melodies. Twelve matchless boys merged to concoct their own puzzle of music, which, when whole, creates a picture of success.

Antibalas began their budding in Brooklyn, New York, almost 17 years ago. That New York spirit gives them a razor's edge and unbeatable style. They've blossomed while playing shows everywhere from Japan and Canada to all over the United States.

"It's not really the place we're playing at - it's the audience," Bogie said.

Stuart Bogie explained that fans and friends truly make the band. Since their beginning, they've collected a loyal following. With 12 members, one would think conflict may lurk around every corner, but the air of simplicity and calm in his voice tells me the opposite. He speaks slowly about the numerous inspirations and mix of hobbies for the band. Each person is unique - one is an avid reader, one collects stamps and one smashes butterflies from their exotic touring destinations and adds them to countless other crushed wings in his books. Twelve separate personalities clicked and clashed their way to form one unit by nurturing their one shared love - making incredible music.

Antibalas practices one tried and true ritual for putting on a memorable show: eating their largest meal at 9:00 in the morning. Some bands have superstitious practices, pray before a show or loosen up with the help of a couple of illegal friends, but for Antibalas, it's all about the energy. They need that energy to deliver a raw, live show at a swanky club in Japan or someone's grungy basement in New York. Provide some sort of instrument or channel of percussion, and wait for their rare musical treat.

Each instrument and voice adds another layer to the cake. The guys have been baking up hits for years, and it shows in their inconceivably talented sets. Lead singer Amayo's mellow accent provides a perfect outlet for fresh political lyrics with layers of brass music intertwining and curling through keyboard melodies and low growls of percussion. It's enough to make anyone swoon over their delicious creations.

When asked if touring ever got old for them, Stuart chuckled and replied, "Touring doesn't get old, but we're getting older."

Luckily, no one can tell, considering their revolutionary and ever-evolving sound. Occasionally, the music scene digs itself into a rut with the same old noise with lyrics, but Antibalas promises to change everything. They're re-energizing music and pulling out all the stops with coveted studio recordings and live shows with enough force to keep you breathless for weeks.

Listening to Antibalas is a rush of blood, a quickened breath and a shiver. You'll feel an insuppressible desire to move to the shiny brass beats and dangle off each word Amayo spits out. Just ride your way down the slick melodies and hearty percussion. These 12 boys have made music one of the senses, and everyone's invited for a taste.

Don't miss Antibalas with special guest Krudas Cubensi next Tuesday, April 17 at Canopy Club. Doors open at 7 p.m. for the 8 p.m. show, and tickets are $13 in advance.
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Security, the band’s fourth full-length and first for Anti-, is the most experimental effort so far. It still sounds eminently danceable (no danger of Antibalas’ sacrificing its sacrosanct groove), but it’s just about as weird as a party-starter album can be without, well, breaking up the party. Producer John McEntire (Tortoise, the Sea and Cake) refracts the familiar riffs and rhythms through a kind of avant-jazz, post-rock sensibility, smashing old patterns and rearranging the still-recognizable shards into new configurations. The opening cut, the accurately titled “Beaten Metal,” juxtaposes fractious percussion with a funky electric-piano riff, dissonant trumpet blurts with a serpentine bassline. Sometimes it sounds like a Steve Reich composition, sometimes it sounds like underground house music, and sometimes it sounds like being caught in a tin-roofed shed during a hailstorm. The roiling, anxious funk of “Filibuster X,” with its crazy keyboard daubs and stuttering horn bleats, resolves in some very funny speculation about what G.O.P. stands for (“Greedy Old People”? “Guilty of Perjury”?). “Hilo” has overtones of ruminative dub, and “War Hero” counters zippy Afro-pop guitars with call-and-response vocals describing this administration’s murderous foreign-policy agenda.
The CD’s strangest cut, though, is also the prettiest. The slow, spooky, intensely contrapuntal “I.C.E.” blends lambent synths and simmering horns into something that approaches contemporary classical music; when McEntire’s hammered dulcimer joins a doleful trombone and distant-thunder drums, the perfectly simple, perfectly devastating result transcends genre altogether. If this is inauthentic, leave authenticity in its coffin.

Gimmick-proof
Antibalas propel the Afrobeat evolution

Playing Friday, 13th at Mercy Lounge
by Saby Reyes-Kulkarni

Even the most casual listen to Antibalas drives home the New York ensemble’s knack for weaving layers of rhythms into a complex whole. Antibalas—which means “bulletproof” in Spanish—specialize in repeating those rhythms at length while simultaneously building and restraining tension. Throw in the group’s firebrand left-wing politics and the effect can be downright blistering, even on record.

But audiences familiar with Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti’s expansive body of work may suspect that they’re watching a tribute band. When all is said and done, do Antibalas veer toward gimmick or, worse, pilfer Kuti’s legacy?

In a telephone conversation from the road, tenor saxophonist Stuart Bogie dismisses such notions with good-humored ease. Yes, Antibalas openly model themselves in Kuti’s image, but a number of distinctions become clear on closer inspection. For starters, the group’s format—which fluctuates in size from from 10 to 17 members—more closely resembles a Latin jazz ensemble than one of Kuti’s full-blown orchestras. Next, most of Antibalas’ live set consists of originals.

“We play the hell out of some Fela songs!” Bogie says with a chuckle. “But Fela didn’t perform his songs after he recorded them—we perform our recorded music over and over, which allows us to be familiar with our own compositions in a different way.”

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More importantly, the band feels the Afrobeat genre shouldn’t remain frozen in time or relegated to being thought of strictly in terms of Kuti, its creator. Afrobeat ought to be regarded as a living tradition, one that’s subject to its own rightful evolution, just like rock or pop. This is where Antibalas comes in: to propel that evolution.

“Positioning the music as a tradition that we’re students of,” Bogie says, “that’s misleading. Fela Kuti was a revolutionary artist. How did people deal with Charlie Parker’s music? Now it’s taught in colleges, sterilized, subjected to all these formulas. Or, you look at people like John Zorn, or Tim Berne, going back to Ornette Coleman, and you see a whole lineage of artistry that’s more of an arc than a straight line. This is how we want to deal with the tradition—whatever that tradition means.”

Additionally, the size of the band can obscure how Antibalas’ rhythmic power—and uniqueness—arises from reduction. “One of the virtues of Antibalas is restraint, in both composition and performance,” says Bogie. “We practice restraint as a discipline, fine-tuning the parts so that they fit together very intricately, very snugly. The rhythm section are stone masons in Antibalas: each note, each pitch, each rhythm is pined over and contemplated, tested in order to interlock with the other parts very well. It’s a long, arduous process. We’ll change parts after the record’s made. Because the centrifugal force of a rhythm can throw you into certain new corners of a phrase. We’re always dealing with this live.”

On the group’s latest album, Security, Antibalas modified their creative process somewhat, leaving certain pieces more open-ended than usual for producer (and Tortoise drummer) John McEntire’s input. McEntire’s approach dovetailed neatly with Antibalas’ arrangement mentality. “He’s brilliant at fitting a lot of things into the music,” Bogie says. “He’s an expert in textures and layers, yet he still realizes space.”

This sense for letting things breathe and fall into place without force has also filtered into the band’s relationship to its audience, which Bogie describes as more inclusive and less preachy than it used to be.

“At shows, every now and then you used to hear somebody yell, ‘Ah, get off your soapbox,’ ” says Bogie. “But we’re growing. Now, when we talk about these things, there’s more wisdom, more humor…. These are certainly frightening times…but you have to keep smiling. When 9/11 happened, I was on the Lower East Side, and they militarized the whole area, so I couldn’t leave. On the second night, a wonderful jazz musician, Will Connell—he’s an arranger who’d worked on the Black Panther National Anthem; he’d been around for the Manson murders, seen the country change, been a soldier in Turkey, he’d seen Coltrane, Dolphy, he’d seen some shit! He told me: ‘The birds, they sing on the battlefield and in peacetime alike.’ ”

Donewaiting.com Interview: Stuart Bogie of Antibalas
April 26, 2007 at 7:56 AM, by Andrew Patton



MP3: "I.C.E." by Antibalas

Brooklyn's Antibalas is a dozen piece band that is often described as Afro-beat (funky horn-driven African music originally spearheaded by Nigeria's Fela Kuti) but is always in the process of evolving into something else. They are currently on tour in support of the newly-released Security, their fourth full-length album and first on Anti- Records. In anticipation of their tour stop at the Wexner Center in Columbus on Tuesday (May 1st), I had a chat with tenor saxophone player Stuart Bogie (above, in the red shirt) about the state of things Antibalas.

Andrew Patton (AP): Antibalas has a message of political activism, but many of your songs are instrumental. Without lyrics, do you think that the average person being exposed to your music understands what you're trying to get across?

Stuart Bogie (SB): Yeah, sure. There are many sentiments, many aspects to being a human being that cannot be expressed in words. Situations of struggle, situations of oppression, situations of striving to surpass oppression, to overcome oppression...there's aspects to these issues that cannot be described in words. Being artists, that's our license, and I believe a lot of our music deals with that. You could cite the music of Charles Mingus as a fair example, or Coltrane. Coltrane's more in a spiritual sort of dimension exclusively, I guess, but that's a universal thing so it might not even be exclusive.

The song "I.C.E." (on Security) stands for Ice Covered England. It's kind of a musical discussion of potential climate change. Through music, and different musical references, it could be viewed as discussing tremendous change in the state of civilization that many people are contemplating right now. The interaction of aggressive musical lines with longer lines that sort of embody, overreach, and arc across the whole experience is something that can be seen through history.

AP: Many of Antibalas' vocal tunes are often very outspoken. Do you get big reactions to songs like "Indictment" or "Filibuster XXX?" Do people really get into songs like that?

SB: Absolutely. Live, when we do "Indictment," people feel a sort of rapturous camaraderie in the idea that there are dangerous criminals in power right now. To collectively feel the pulse of the music, and to hear the names of some of these people called out is...the music wraps people together and the words say that we are all right here on the same page, emotionally and intellectually.

And there's also an element of humor in it. Humor is a musical thing. Humor is all about rhythm. So, to put that in there, "OK, who are these guys? Yeah, these guys are really gonna indict Kenneth Lay." Or "These guys are really gonna indict Scooter Libby." We're just cheerleaders for it.

AP: OK, so how do you feel things are progressing in the US right now politically? What are some encouraging signs?

SB: A few guys in the band have been checking out Obama and are very interested in what he has to say. Alberto Gonzales...they nailed him down today! The process of pointing out the extreme right for what it is and pointing out the centrist Democrats for what they are. I see that happening often. Basically, I think the change in the weather is going to sound the alarm for many people. Even Thomas Friedman, the journalist, is speaking very optimistically about green industries. So, there are places to aim hope. But in terms of sizing things up in history, that's beyond us. It depends how we feel that day.

AP: How is the current tour going? Any interesting stories from the road?

SB: Well, we got down with the drummer from My Morning Jacket at our show in Louisville. I love that band. It's been a pretty mellow tour. The action's in the music. Right now, we're discovering new ways of playing. Birthing that sort of collective creativity is often very frustrating and terrifying if you consider that the band is not in its adolescent stage. We still want to grow and develop, we're not satisfied doing the same things over and over again. Yet, what we've accomplished informs how we grade what we're doing now. So, that's a situation where, if you do not keep a good perspective, you can curse your musical child before it's had a chance to develop. As artists, this is what we're struggling with right now. I think it's probably a very interesting time to see the band play.

AP: Any examples of what the band is changing around?

SB: Well, in our performances of "I.C.E.," we're not doing the contrapuntal chorale in the middle. We haven't been. We're sort of just exploring and riding the texture. Now, communicating that to an audience that has just been dancing for an hour is a hell of a challenge. We need to find ways to appeal and to tap into that side of our listeners' psyches. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, but we always focus on it. There's certain sorts of psychological devices performers can do to draw attention, to bring out the drama in a performance. We've never had to deal with the ones that are required of us when we're playing some of these new songs. It's a different dance we're learning. The engaging of the audience and each other is all part of it, all of these things kinda flow around in a sort of whirlpool.

AP: The new album was produced by John McIntire (Tortoise). How was that experience? Do you think his involvement changed the band's recording process?

SB: Absolutely. It's a combination of his skills and the fact that what we prepared ourselves to do was a very different record than we'd done in the past. Our first three records and the two EPs were all similar in their recording process. The one with John was different, and we expected that. He didn't sit us down and say, "This is how we're gonna do it," but instead, "OK, how are we going to do this?" And we all figured it out together. But we tried new ways of doing things with him.

AP: OK. To me, the album definitely sounds more focused than your previous recordings. Did you have certain goals in mind when you were recording?

SB: Oh yeah. His aesthetic is very fine. The way he records and mixes songs brings out all these different textures and layers. He's painting with sound. That brought out a whole bunch of things that exist in our music. He brought those aspects out. But he also opened the door for us to try all kinds of new things. "Let me put some hammered dulcimer on this." We were listening to Italian soundtracks with him and tried a few different things [in a] cinematic way.

AP: Are things going well in your relationship with Anti- Records so far?

SB: I believe so. The record industry is in a new state. They're figuring it out. And we're figuring it out. And it's changing! So, it's very difficult right now to predict things or know how to roll with them. It's very difficult and often painful for an artist to try and evaluate what they're doing in terms of business and marketing. In an ideal situation, we're often shielded from those things and allowed to focus on the creative aspects and the refinement of our art. Because the arts has its own disciplines, and things that are very functional. An accountant will balance his ledger. A musician may forget the ledger, but he will practice his scales or edit his compositions or seek out new inspirations. So, while we're very disciplined about that, we like the record label to help us with the business aspect of it.

AP: I'm hearing about a bunch of different strains of the Afro-beat scene from NYC coming out these days, even some of your fellow band members in other projects like Ocote Soul Sounds or DROID. How do you feel about the New York Afro-beat (and Afro-beat related) scene right now?

SB: Well, you can hear it all over the place. You can hear it in TV On The Radio, which I know because a bunch of us played it. There's a band Celebration that we've worked with that's got some great polyrhythmic chord sounds in there. Right now we're trying to let go of the Afro-beat label. It was a subject of study for a long time, it was a springboard, but it's become sort of a straitjacket. Anytime you make a new Myspace friend, it's "Oh, there they are, the new 'King of Afro-beat.'" So we listen to it, and it's the same old shit! God bless them for making their beautiful music, and I know they celebrate it with their friends and their communities, but at the same time, we're interested in a little bit more of an aesthetic relationship to music. We're interested in a certain progress that isn't about recreating things historically and that isn't about playing this "new flavor."

AP: Are you involved in any side projects yourself?

SB: Yeah, I do a great deal of production. I'm producing a blues record right now, and a pop record that's by one of the other guys in the band.

AP: What kind of stuff are you guys listening to these days?

SB: Well, there's Tinariwen, a Malian group...amazing! Neko Case's new record is beautiful. Amy Winehouse is very popular. Some of the guys in the band play on her record. [The aforementioned] Celebration is a band that many of us just adore. It's usually people that we are loosely associated with. That way you sort of check out the music from the inside; we stay pretty occupied with that. I gotta get that new Arcade Fire, I'm curious about what that sounds like. A saxophonist that works with Antibalas a lot is touring with them right now, playing trumpets and clarinets and stuff. The family expands. I also work with a guy from Wilco (Mikael Jorgensen), so I gotta hear their new record; I'm pretty excited about that. He (Jorgensen) and I got to know each other through a bass player named Matt Lux (Isotope) who is going out on tour with Iron & Wine right now. There's that Brightblack Morning Light record, my friend Eli played percussion on it, I think we're gonna play together in a couple weeks. The extended family is deep and wide.

It pains us to feel pigeonholed as world music, but at the same time, there are also people who don't want to listen to anything but that and will listen to us simply because they can deal with us in that way. The artist's struggle to be understood in any way beyond their actual art is bound to be a painful process and is futile really.

AP: Finally, for people that might be checking out Antibalas for the first time, can you give them something to expect from your show?

SB: They can expect intense rhythms. They can expect ecstatic horn solos. They can expect to have their minds, bodies, and spirits elevated and touched, figuratively.

BULLETPROOF BEATS

Although they're one of the hottest groups today playing the jazzy, groovy, politically charged dance rock known as Afrobeat, the Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra is not actually based in Africa.

The multi-ethnic band lives in Brooklyn, and a tenor sax player who grew up in Evanston, Stuart Bogie, is the big ensemble's conductor.

That was Bogie at Chicago's Metro nightclub last summer, pointing around the stage as he gave cues to more than a dozen Antibalas members joyously jamming in the lively genre of music founded by Nigerian legend Fela Kuti. Bogie's family and friends from the North Shore were cheering him on in the balcony.

"I was blown away," says Allan Dennis, director of Midwest Young Artists in Highwood and one of Bogie's early musical mentors. "The pride is busting the buttons off my shirt. He's a kid who's gone out and made it in the music world."

Antibalas -- the name is Spanish for "anti-bullets" or "bulletproof" -- is back in Chicago this month, recording an album with producer John McEntire, a member of the instrumental band Tortoise, and playing concerts Sept. 8 and 9 at the HotHouse.

Young maverick

How did a kid from Evanston end up as one of the leading musicians in an African style of music?

It all began with his mother, Kathy, singing him to sleep with songs. She knew more than just the familiar refrains of songs like "Camptown Races" and "A Bicycle Built for Two."

"She knew a million verses," Stuart Bogie recalls. "I had a lesson in American folklore every night."

From the moment he began playing an electronic keyboard as a young boy, Bogie was interested in more than practicing other people's songs.

"As early as I can remember, I can remember making up my own ditties," he says.

The same approach applied in whatever he did.

"I couldn't do karate, but I would make up my own martial arts," he says.

Bogie was inspired to take up his first wind instrument when he saw a video by Sheila E. featuring a musician soloing on an alto sax. However, Bogie thought it was a clarinet, so he signed up for the wrong instrument in his school band.

He stuck with the clarinet throughout his years at Martin Luther King Jr. Laboratory School and Evanston Township High School, playing classical music, but he really wanted to play John Coltrane-style jazz. He found it hard to break into jazz groups other than Dixieland bands.

"That broke my heart," he says. "I was excluded because of my instrument."

Playing classical music turned out to be an invaluable lesson.

"It taught me about the conversation of instruments in the orchestra," Bogie says, describing the way instruments call and respond to each other.

Meanwhile, Bogie had been writing and recording pop songs with the Ultraviolets, a group he formed when he was 9 years old with a 7-year-old neighbor, Zak Mastoon.

Bogie also played at the Music Center for the North Shore and, later, at Midwest Young Artists. His father, John Bogie, is a founding board member of that organization.

After college, Stuart Bogie moved to New York in 2000 for a job in marketing -- and was laid off after 5 1/2 months, just two weeks short of qualifying for unemployment checks.

"I began busing tables at a bar," Bogie says. "I met a lot of musicians ... as a result of cleaning ashtrays in a restaurant in the West Village."

Bogie's musical connections led to a stint playing alto sax (the instrument he'd originally wanted to play) with Antibalas later in 2000.

Antibalas was already part of a burgeoning musical scene in Brooklyn, sharing musicians and producers with the '60s soul revival outfit Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, the edgy art rockers TV on the Radio and a popular punk group, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Complex rhythms

Bogie says he felt daunted at first by the complexity of the music he was required to play as a winds player in Antibalas.

"I liked it, but I had the rhythms wrong," he says. "They sounded backwards. It was like Devo. I said, 'Where's 1?'" -- referring to the "1" beat at the beginning of a measure.

The key to Afrobeat rhythms is the interlocked patterns of the various instruments, Bogie explains. Hearing the drums or guitar lines in isolation, a listener might not grasp the beat. But when they lock together, they create an infectious groove -- based on the Latin beat known as the clave.

"It's hidden in the texture of the drums and the guitar," Bogie says.

Bogie and the other Antibalas members have a trick for keeping in the right groove -- stepping back and forth as they play.

"I had to physically step," he says. "I remember the cues according to where my feet are."

Bogie also found it challenging to learn the many melodies he had to play in the course of an Antibalas concert, but after much memorization, the logic behind the music started to make sense. In a typical Antibalas composition, a short melodic idea is followed by a longer elaboration of the same tune, then a solo, then a return to that first short melody.

"You mix up the rhythm of scenes, like you would in a movie," Bogie says. "All of that is very carefully calcuated."

Although the long songs leave room for improvisation, the Afrobeat players don't hog the spotlight with solos that stand out too much from what the rest of the band is playing.

"You want to remain an element," Bogie says.

Musical democracy

Over the past five years, Bogie has switched to playing tenor sax and taken over the role of conducting the band, but he hastens to say he isn't the leader. When you conduct a band, he says, "You're more of a traffic cop."

The group's most visible member is Duke Amayo, a Nigerian immigrant who sings most of the lead vocals and plays congas.

But Antibalas is a democratic group, with all of the musicians working by consensus, Bogie says. That makes it different from the original Afrobeat band, which was definitely controlled by Fela.

"There's no dictator in our band," Bogie says.

Antibalas -- which includes musicians with roots in Latin America, the Caribbean, the Middle East and Europe -- and other current Afrobeat groups obviously owe a huge debt to Fela's music.

"We want to do it justice and carry on that torch," Bogie says, adding that he has asked musicians who played with Fela what they think of Antibalas' music.

"I say, 'Is this OK?' They say, 'OK? It's wonderful.'"

The Antibalas recording sessions in Chicago will mark the first time the band has worked with an outside producer. In the past, the group developed songs for months in rehearsal and concerts before recording them, but this time, Antibalas will work out its songs in the studio, Bogie says.

"We want to enjoy the spontaneity of the studio," he says.

Meanwhile, Bogie has reunited with his childhood pal from Evanston, Mastoon, who went on to some success of his own, recording electronic music under the moniker Caurel. Mastoon also lives in New York, and the two are playing together again as the Ultraviolets.

Mastoon and Bogie are writing new songs together, but they also plan to release some of the tunes they wrote back when they were 7- and 9-year-old underground-rock rugrats.

Bogie says he still likes the songs he recorded all that time ago.

"There's no hesitation" in the music, he says. "We're still trying to live up the stuff we did."

Afrobeat musicians 'indict' Bush

The heart of Antibalas Afrobeat Africa's music is a highly danceable groove pulsing through long instrumental passages, but the band's words are important, too.

The group made many political statements with its exciting 2004 album, "Who Is This America?" -- touching on topics from the immigrant experience to feminism and the plight of the working poor.

The most searing moment on the record comes in "Indictment," a song penned by Evanston native Stuart Bogie.

The song's jerky rhythm -- Bogie calls it a "caveman" beat -- subsides in the middle of the track as the members of Antibalas act out a courtroom scene.

Assuming the role of a prosecutor going after members of the Bush administration for crimes (which are not specified in the lyrics), Bogie calls out, "Order in the court! All rise ... Indictment! Karl T. Rove, indictment! Condoleezza Rice, Donald Rumsfeld, indictment!"

The list of accused criminals builds up to President Bush himself, and then Bogie calls a fanciful list of witnesses to testify: "The game of baseball, Seagram's gin, ... the Saudi royal family, Tommy Chong, Ralph Nader, Noam Chomsky, the Fire Department of New York, Robert Kennedy Jr., our mothers, our brothers, our secret lovers! The people of Afghanistan, the people of Iraq, ... the public schools, and the children left behind!"

When Antibalas played the song in concert last year in Chicago, Bogie's family joined in on the scene, and audience members yelled out suggestions for more indictments, including some Chicago politicians.

Asked about the song, Bogie says it was inspired by his strong feelings about what he views as lies told by the Bush Administration leading to the war in Iraq.

"I think these people should be brought to trial. How can we just let this slide?" he says.

The political themes continue on Antibalas' new EP, "Government Magic," available only at the band's Web site, www.antibalas.com.

Bogie says he doesn't expect the political messages in Antibalas' music to change the world, but he hopes they do have some effect.

"You're not going to educate people," he says. "You might inspire them."

[Refering to Antibalas] "It shows are a thunderous mass of rhthyms horns and bass."

From an Interveiw with Jeremiah Lockwood:
“I definitely have to mention the producer Stuart Bogie ‘cause he’s very instrumental in creating that balance in the record [“American Primitive”] between tender and gritty,” said Lockwood. “If I’d produced all my songs, it might have been all the gritty sounds. He spent a lot of energy creating the right atmosphere for me to be able to feel comfortable doing some stuff that was more revealing and more intimate. And we just had a blast making that record. We were just in his apartment last summer, sweating like crazy and inviting different friends over to play on the record. It was really wonderful. It was a great experience.”



The raw sound of the album can be traced back to the eight-track machine on which it was recorded. A primitive move in these days of high-tech digital recordings, but a smart one for an album that was intended to have the edge of an unpolished sound. “It’s kind of like doing it with your arm tied behind your back,” said Lockwood of recording on an eight-track. “It has an amazing, beautiful, distinctive, warm sound. But it’s also really raw. And we wanted that. I’m really in love with the eight-track tape recorder.”

and the ruthless, horn-driven “Indictment” just drives it home. The breakdown in the middle where Stuart Bogie calls out indictments against administration officials is particularly powerful. You want these guys on your side at a rally.

That sense of humor is also apparent on "Indictment", a stylistic watershed for the band. The track opens with a Superfly-echoing riff as spastic tenor sax man Stuart Bogie recites a litany of offenses committed by everyone from Donald Rumsfeld to "the game of baseball," in what sounds like some funky People's Court. The terrific throwback production-- cracking, overmiked drums, theme-show guitar, and background chatter reminiscent of James Brown's original Live at the Apollo-- make for one of the most unique, compelling songs the group has ever laid to tape.

Throughout the bomb ass horn section, especially saxophonist Stuart Bogie, enliven any spare inch they're given.

For a while it seemed that Transmission was performing in Ann Arbor every week and there are still yellowing posters on telephone poles signaling their past performances. The quartet of Colin Stetson on saxophone, Stuart Bogie on clarinets, Eric Perney on bass, and Andrew Kitchen on drums and percussion had a loyal following and although they now all live in San Francisco, they often come through town. Their CD Transmission (thekitch@hotmail.com) provides ample testimony of the energy and excitement generated by the group. Their eclectic approach to music making includes elements of rock, jazz, klezmer, and various folk styles, working through a broad range of moods, from quiet meditative passages to roaring stomps. All of this is informed by a youthful energy, virtuoso horn playing, and a strong sense of rhythm.