Osibisa
New Dawn
2/10
By Clifford Mason

When a brand new studio album from not only a legendary but also a genre-creating band landed on my desk, the anticipation and curiosity inevitably got the better of me, and the urgent need to immediately play it almost overwhelmed the crucial need for a necessary level of professional objectivity.

Such was the raw instincts with which I approached this first all-new Osibisa studio album since their 2009 Osee Yee album of original studio tunes, not forgetting the entrancing Abele recently released on the widely revered The Boyhood Sessions album. You can therefore only imagine my utter dismay as my initial enthusiasm withered on a poisoned vine of bland funk and ersatz soul tracks.

Even more depressing is the complete lack of any genuine African vibe throughout; apart from some perfunctory and transparent faint musical nods to the once solid, deep, and fertile roots of this band of African and Caribbean brothers. Where once there were criss-cross rhythms bursting with happiness, there are only hollow and formless husks of shallow and cliched songs. And let’s get something straight, Osibisa is the original Afro-Rock band and not an Afro-Beat band as this current new iteration seems to insist on.

Digging deeper into the background of New Dawn and it comes as no surprise to learn that a ‘new band manager’ lurks in the murky corners of this hastily thrown together group of disparate players. Made murkier by the complete lack of any creative involvement from founder and, until now, constant member Teddy Osei; even though he is inexplicably credited on the album.

Instead, fronting up this amalgam of what is, in essence, a group of hired hands is a sometimes former member who was summarily dismissed - for furtively putting together a version of the band whilst Teddy Osei's Osibisa was an active concern - a little over half a decade ago. Add to this that another legendary founding member had the wisdom to proudly walk away from this farrago, and Dell Richardson’s reputation is only enhanced and not damaged by the inevitable long term fall out that will most surely follow once the last particle of toxic dust has finally settled on this debacle.

A debacle further reinforced by the departure of the consistent values of the cover art incorporating the flying elephant and African motifs, originated by Roger Dean, with a third rate futuristic render of what appears to be computer-generated art.

And so to the songs, some of which are characterised by the American street slang of their titles, the opener Kpanlogo Chant, with its jungle sounds and percussion, sets the tone with a chant sounding like ‘beware, beware’ which, in fact, forebodes a warning to all who enter this disc into their player as this ninety-second intro is about as African as the album gets.

The disappointing single Douala does contain some classy guitar work by former member Kari Bannerman, but this doesn’t elevate this song from being anything but a mediocre track. Here, and elsewhere, the vocals are well under-par which betrays a lack of good production; any good producer would have scrapped most, if not all, of these substandard tunes. Paper Dey Burn, No Fit 4 Street, and Yo Love Is Better have lyrics as bad as their infantilised titles suggest. And the mash-up of third rate soul is frankly insulting to this venerated group’s heritage.

I’ve replayed this album several times trying to find something, anything, good that I might have missed but I’m still struggling. Except, buried deep in the sequencing, Boni Wo Yu A, the penultimate track on this new album, is one of the few that shows a faint glimpse to former glories with its high-life rhythms. Interestingly, it's part penned by a former band member of years past. The final track Big Problems unfortunately says it all in its senseless confluence of, again, under par vocals and directionless music.

The musicianship, drum sound apart, is perfectly adequate and it’s not the players but the low-quality material and sub-par vocals that let the whole shebang down. Not even a renowned arranger such as Robert Bailey can salvage much from this wreck. Furthermore, the rumoured stellar guest musicians are few and far between and those that are on the album cannot save any of this poor material.

As the original band of brothers, Osibisa occasionally used female backing singers for some concerts in the early 80s. They had a short-lived dalliance with Princess and also backed the fabulous Beverley Johnson in 1979. However, they never used any female singers and musicians on record until now and, unfortunately, it really doesn’t work.

I would recommend any true Osibisa fan who cherishes their original ground-breaking sound to give this a miss. And to any new fans, I heartily recommend that they investigate the early classic albums from the ‘70s, the 2015 four-CD set issued by Repertoire, and the most recent The Boyhood Sessions release which is a defining alternative compilation of classic cuts.

Hopefully, with this year being the 50th anniversary of the band’s first studio recording, produced by Tony Visconti, there will be a celebratory collection released that does reflect the true essence of Osibisa.