Nneka’s World Music Collision

Nneka
Concrete Jungle
(Decon)

It’s strange–whenever I think I don’t like Nneka’s new Concrete Jungle very much, I go back and listen again, and something changes my mind. I guess it’s a good sign that I keep going back. For instance, the song “Kangpe” boasts a nondescript dancehall beat and a cliched chorus–roughly, “God won’t give you anything you can’t deal with,” “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”–and JUST as I begin to phase out, stuff starts happening. Nneka’s producer, DJ Farhot, throws in some bouncy sound effects and beatboxing; guest toaster Wesley Williams starts shouting out dance moves; and Nneka herself flies out of her breathy Neneh Cherry range to scat on Psalm 23 and squeak. (At least I THINK that’s her squeaking.) All of a sudden, I realize I never want to stop listening to this CD.

Well, never say never–there’s a lot of CDs in the world. Why, there’s even two previous Nneka (“NECK-ah,” my hipster friend) CDs, overseas only, from which Concrete Jungle was compiled. (For Nneka completists, there’s also The Madness (Onye-Ala), a dull-but-free mixtape with DJ J.Period.) She comes to us from Nigeria via Germany, where she makes just-fine global pop that’s full of hooks and sonically all over the place. Even if she rarely hits the powerful highs of M.I.A. (Sri Lanka via England) or K’Naan (Somalia via Canada), most of her songs demonstrate a remarkable openness to interesting sounds, carefully deployed. “Mind Vs. Heart” starts as an OK neo-soul track, and ends with sharply strummed acoustic guitar over some lickety-split drum ‘n’ bass. “Africans” sounds like reggae-by-numbers until its forceful hook (“WAKE UP AFRICA!”) and Nneka’s multitracked harmonies lodge it into your ear canal. (Besides, her reggae-by-numbers is infinitely preferable to, say, O.A.R.’s.)

Nneka and Farhot’s greatest shortcoming may be that they deploy their interesting sounds TOO carefully. The sense of abundance you find with M.I.A. and K’Naan–that there’s barely enough digital space to cram in all their ideas–isn’t often on display here. The closest Nneka comes is on her sorta hit “Heartbeat,” which melds four-on-the-floor thumps, a reggae guitar groove, haunting piano lines, and some wicked drum fills into an indelible song that melted faces on Letterman earlier this year. “Heartbeat”‘s chorus is a series of haltingly breathed syllables, similar to Laurie Anderson’s sorta hit “O Superman,” which should give you an idea of all the disparate ideas Nneka and Farhot are willing to play with. Throughout the other eleven tunes, they manage to pack in some horn-driven Motown swing, acoustic folk, lilting West African highlife, an accordion, and some loud electric guitars. (Not as loud as when Kirk Hammett guest-axed on K’Naan’s album, but still loud.) It’s all a little careful, but enough to keep you on the hook.

Now, about her lyrics. As I alluded earlier, they tend toward religion and politics, respectively continuing the Sunny Ade and Fela traditions of her Nigerian heritage. As I also alluded earlier, they’re not real noticeable. Usually, that’s not a problem. A song like “Walking” might not be as thought-provoking as Kanye’s “Jesus Walks,” but the way its trudging Curtis Mayfield sample frames Nneka’s straightforward faith message, it rings just as true. I do, however, take exception to closing song “God of Mercy,” when she informs God, “I appreciate thee.” Look, whether it’s sung by Nneka or the local praise band, using “appreciate” in a worship song is as aesthetically bankrupt as singing “relationship” in a love song. It smacks of faint praise and hubris at the same time–I appreciate when my wife puts the kettle on for me, but can I really appreciate God’s mercy? That said, I appreciate that Nneka’s getting a fair amount of mainstream press for a God album. She’s using music to plant timeless truths into people’s brains, and maybe onto our lips at the same time.