Bhundu Boys – True Jit (1987)
I bought this album on vinyl in the late 1980s from the excellent Reckless Records in Soho's Berwick St, and was captivated at first listen. John Peel had championed the band, and this was their first album release on a major Western label, although about 30 albums had previously been released in Zimbabwe, and a couple in UK on the DiscAfrique label.
At the time I, rather pretentiously, would offer the opinion that the future of pop music lay in the African continent and we'd all be listening to this soon. While there have been many valuable contributions from African sources over the last forty years, music has moved in other directions, often with influences from across the world, as the world shrinks. But that shouldn't take away from the freshness of the Jit sound from Zimbabwe's prime musical export of the time.
I only saw the Bhundus once, in 1992, supporting Jonathan Richman in a small venue in Folkestone, when they were very much on their way down, and was delighted to pick this up cheaply in a local Oxfam.
I won't try to tell the tale of how the band were beset by setback after setback, from ill-health, culture clashes and corrupt management, but there's an excellent summary in this 2006 Guardian article, including an interview with guitarist and singer Rise Kagona. Rise died in 2024, aged 62, after a long illness, leaving drummer Kenny Chitsvatsva as the only surviving Bhundu Boy. Keyboardist Shaki Kangwena and bassist David Mankaba both died of AIDS in the early 1990s, while charismatic frontman Biggie Tembo took his own life in 1995 after a long struggle with mental health.
The received wisdom is that this album is too Westernised and fails to capture the true spirit of the Bhundus. I haven't heard enough beyond this album to judge, but even if that's true, it doesn't detract from what is a lovely album, with about half the songs in English and half in the band's native Shona. Opener Jit Jive is a statement of 'this is who we are', displaying the trademark jangly guitars and light beat, and from there to the end it's a mostly joyful romp. In general, those songs in Shona feel stronger and more authentic (although the lyrics might be nonsense, I'll never know), while those in Englsih are weaker, particularly the run towards the end of Susan, African Woman and Happy Birthday. But on the way there we get some fine songs. My Foolish Heart has two competing melodies creating a stunning sound, and Chemedzevana is an excellent piece, which probably doesn't need the horn section designed to appeal to European ears. Rugare is more reflective, while Vana is more political, dedicated to the Zimbabwean struggle and Ndoitasei is another upbeat number, with those horns again to the fore.
This is a fine album, not my first brush with African pop music but probably the first full length album I really listened to. Perhaps the fact that it had been sanitised a bit for my Western ears made it more accessible, and I ought to investigate earlier work.
4* - a lovely introduction to African pop music from Zimbabwe's finest.
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