#Awesome Tapes From Africa

[ourladyofomega]

📸: Awesome Tapes From Africa

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for August 30, 2021; #282.

Ata Kak: “Obaa Sima” + “Daa Nyina”

Penny Penny: “Shichangani” + ““Ingani”

Professor Rhythm: “Bafana Bafana”

Teno Afrika: “Smooth Criminal” + “Trip To Vlakas”

DJ Black Low: “Javia Low” + “Alone In A Dark”

DJ Katapila: “Cocoawra” + “Sakawa”

(Om) Alec Khaoli: “Say You Love Me” + “Enjoy It”

Antoinette Konan: “M’acko” + “Yale”

Umoja: “707″

Asnakech Worku: “Mech Alkugn Lela Sew”

Dur-Dur Band: “Dholey” + “Dooyo”

Aby Ngana Diop: “Liital” + “Ndadje”

Bola: “Yine Ntaripaga”

Na Hawa Doumbia: “Abayetidu Ma”

Sourakata Koite: “Moussa” + “Dioula”

Awalom Gebremariam: “Desdes”

Awa Paulo: “”Djara Wilam” + “Mido Yirima”

Jess San Bi & Peter One: “Minmanle?”

Ephat Mujuru & The Spirit Of The People: “Mudande”

SK Kakraba (Lobi): “Darifu”

Final Summer 2021 broadcast; label tribute.

[mywifeleftme]

357: Hailu Mergia & Dahlak Band // Wede Harer Guzo

Wede Harer Guzo Hailu Mergia & Dahlak Band 1970s, Ms Recording (Bandcamp)

I can’t 100% recall, but I’m pretty sure this was the first African record I ever bought (it was this or Nass El Ghiwane), and I wasn’t the only one—I’ve got a few friends with exactly one African record in their collection, and it’s this. When his music was rediscovered in 2016 after Awesome Tapes From Africa pressed this record (using Mergia’s own cassette copy as a source), Wede Harer Guzo became for western music nerds a part of that small company of gateway albums to the music of an entire continent. Let’s play a game of Remember Some Guys.

Remember Some Guys: That One African Record Edition

Expensive Shit Who is William Onyeabor? Wede Harer Guzo Nigeria 70 (The Definitive Story of 1970’s Funky Lagos) A dollar bin Miriam Makeba LP uh TEN$ION Remain in Light (honorary)

God I’m tired. Anyway, I’ve always had kind of an uncertain relationship with this record. Mergia’s organ can sound like a cool balm on my aching brain or… elevator music. Dahlak Band can sound like a perfect fusion of the floaty “intellectual highlife” of Celestine Ukwu and the grooves of Booker T. and the MG’s… or, what were we talking about? An entire side just past me by unnoticed, yet again. I think this has more to do with me than it does with the record… though at a cassette-length hour-plus run time, some ideas do get repeated.

(Three ellipses in one paragraph… I think that’s more than I’ve used in this whole series so far. I’m so tired of writing these things man. I’m not even really divorced, I can’t wait to leave.)

Anyway, again, at its best, the record is transcendently beautiful. The way Mergia’s organ expands and contracts like the shimmer of light on dark water on “Anchin Kfu Ayinkash,” guitarist Dawit Kassa answering his pauses with little soulful licks… there the ellipses go again. Sometimes the record feels like it’s insinuating I should go to the lobby for more popcorn. Maybe I’ll buy Raisinettes?

It’s very good I’m saying, obviously. See you tomorrow.

357/365

[zef-zef]

Aby Ngana Diop - Dieuleul Dieuleul From Aby Ngana Diop - Liital (1994)

Aby Ngana Diop was the most famous taasukat in Dakar, Senegal in the 1980s and 1990s. Taasu is a Wolof-language poetic style, usually performed by women griots over frenetic drum patterns, with an aggressive verbal flow thought to presage rap.

reissued on "Awesome Tapes From Africa" 2014 listen to full album on bandcamp

[omegaplus]

# 4,414

Mahmoud Guinia: self-titled debut (1989)

Reading the Arabic on any given vinyl, disc, or cassette cover means it's serious business. It was only two years ago when Omega WUSB had a great concept and decided to compile its first-ever African sounds expo; a result of being fanatics of Brian Shimkowitz' Awesome Tapes From Africa label. Obvious artists such as Hailu Mergia, Fela Kuti, Oum Kassoum, and William Onyeabor along with the African Scream Contest records and Mogadisco: Dancing Mogadishu comprised a substantial deal of that broadcast. Then you have artists like Essaouiran gnawa musician Mahmoud Guinia, master of the sintir / guembri: a three-string log guitar partially covered in animal skin. His deep bass-like strings and tribal backing band brought literal straight-up Moroccan heat with his debut. I agree with Shimkowitz on this one: it's a great stoner record. I envisioned that notion with catchy rhythms, tempo changes, and other instrumental elements producing baking-hot sounds all throughout Guinia's shouts that could jump out of nowhere at any time. Of the cassette's four tracks, "سَاسْتْ دِيمَانْيُو " was the one we went with and stood out as one of the more memorable ones that stayed with us. The end result? The African finds we ended up with gave us some distinct feels we will never forget.

[aktionpak]

Listen/purchase: Umshato feat. Black R, K.Dalo & Frego by DJ Black Low

For the coupled up people in the middle of the dance.

[munsonkitten]

steddie smut | 3k | AO3

Eddie lays on his back in Steve’s bed while his boyfriend flips through his box of tapes. He’s naked. Has been for a while, but Steve is still dressed in his ridiculously short shorts and one of Eddie’s t-shirts. Still looking for a specific tape, even though Eddie would be fine doing it without music at all because he’s been ready to go for like ten minutes now.

“Babe, just pick one,” Eddie sighs.

With no sign of Steve just picking one, Eddie lights up a cigarette and lays back against the pillows. He glances over at Steve as he blows smoke up toward the ceiling, and he reminds himself that he really likes Steve, even if he’s leaving Eddie hanging like this.

“Aha!” Steve finally exclaims. He pulls a tape out from the third box he looked through and waves it triumphantly for Eddie to see. He pops it into his cassette player and pulls his shirt over his head. “Are you ready for the Steve Harrington experience?”

The opening notes of Africa by Toto come through the speakers. Not a bad choice, but not Eddie’s first choice, either.

“Never say that again, you weirdo,” Eddie laughs.

Steve takes the cigarette from him and takes a drag before putting it out in the ashtray beside his bed.

“Is this your sex mixtape?” Eddie asks.

“Yes, it is, and it’s awesome,” Steve nods. “Now, where were we?”

He climbs onto the bed and straddles Eddie’s thighs.

“I believe you promised me a blowjob,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow.

“Hmm,” Steve hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think I did, but I think it could be arranged.”

Steve leans down to kiss Eddie on the lips, his hands coming up to rest on his bare chest. His fingers find the bar going through one of Eddie’s nipples and punches, causing Eddie’s breath to stutter and his cock to twitch. He had been hard when Steve stripped him from his clothes, mouthing at him through his underwear, but Steve fucking Harrington—

He had paused right after getting Eddie’s underwear off— a hand halfway reaching out to grip Eddie where he needed it most— and got off the bed.

“What?” Eddie had asked.

“I just remembered— I have an awesome sex mix tape,” Steve had said.

And that’s how Eddie had ended up laying naked on Steve’s bed, and his erection had quickly waned in the long minutes it took for Steve to actually fucking find it.

Now, though, with Steve’s mouth sucking at his neck, and fingers pinching his nipples and twisting the piercings, he’s more than interested again.

He pushes his hips up, rubbing against the soft fabric of Steve’s shorts, a moan falling from his lips. He needs more, he needs Steve’s hand or mouth wrapped around him, or something. Steve doesn’t give it to him, not yet, but he makes slow movements into the air above Eddie, fabric dragging much too lightly against Eddie’s cock.

Steve pulls back and looks down at Eddie’s neck, gently smooths his thumb over the mark he sucked into Eddie’s neck. Eddie pulls him down for another quick kiss, and pushes at the waistband of Steve’s shorts to try and push them off. Steve helps him, and climbs off of Eddie long enough to kick them to the side and grab the lube from his nightstand.

“I want to fuck you,” Steve whispers when he’s back on the bed, hovering over Eddie’s body.

Eddie spreads his legs and moans his approval just as the song ends and another begins.

“Interesting choice,” Eddie laughs.

“Hey, You’re My Best Friend is a great song!” Steve protests.

“Maybe not for a sex mix?” Eddie suggests.

“Okay, well I don’t make fun of yours! And if I did, I would say the same thing about half of your songs,” Steve mutters.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie challenges.

Steve rubs a slick fingertip over Eddie’s entrance, spreading lube all over.

“Yeah. Your mix has Crazy Train on it,” Steve says. He presses one finger inside Eddie. “Twice.”

“Fuck,” Eddie swears at the intrusion. “Crazy Train has to be on it twice. Once to get me going and once to help me wind down after.”

The next song starts playing just as Steve works in another finger beside the first.

“Really, dude. This is not keeping me in the mood. I’m so distracted by how unsexy these songs are,” Eddie laughs. “It’s like you just picked songs you liked instead of setting a mood or sticking to a theme.”

“How is Gimme, Gimme, Gimme not sexy? Who are you?” Steve scoffs.

“Babe,” Eddie laughs, tossing his head back. “How are you a real person?”

“Shut up,” Steve says, leaning over Eddie to capture his lips in another kiss.

“My dick’s like not even hard anymore. That’s how unsexy I find this,” Eddie tells him.

Steve wraps his hand around Eddie’s cock and gives it a few strokes.

“Seems hard to me,” Steve whispers.

“I don’t know. I think I might need that blowjob you mentioned.”

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at Steve and lifts his hips up insistently.

Steve grins and moves down his body, keeping two fingers moving slowly in and out of him. He presses a kiss to the inside of Eddie’s thigh, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive skin.

“Please,” Eddie whispers.

He doesn’t need to say what he wants, Steve already knows. He sinks his teeth just a bit hard into the skin, causing Eddie to tense up with the pleasurable pain. He groans out Steve’s name and sinks a hand into his hair. Steve sucks bruises into each thigh, moving high and higher until he presses a kiss to the base of Eddie’s cock.

And fuck he thinks he might come right here, right now.

Steve recognizes this, pulls his fingers out and rests his head against Eddie’s hip bone for a second to let him cool down a bit. The song changes and Eddie throws his hands over his face to cover his laughing groan.

“Fucking Phil Collins?” Eddie asks. “I hate Phil Collins, dude.”

“Hey this song is awesome!” Steve protests.

“No, baby, it’s not. Please tell me this tape gets better or I’m not going to let you fuck me,” Eddie half-jokes.

“What gets better than this?“ Steve asks.

He leans back down and wraps his hand around the base of Eddie’s cock. He presses a kiss to the head and Eddie throws his head back against the pillow. Okay, maybe he can ignore In the Air Tonight as long as Steve gets his mouth on him expeditiously. He shuts his eyes and allows himself to just feel as Steve licks at him and kisses his shaft, slowly stroking him with his hand, not yet fully taking him in yet, but that’s fine, he’ll get there.

“So you can wipe off that grin,” Steve sings quietly, just above a whisper. He can feel Steve’s breath on him. “I know where you’ve been—”

(Or maybe he won’t get there, Eddie thinks to himself.)

“Steve Harrington, if you're using my dick as a microphone I’m going to kill you,” Eddie says without opening his eyes. “Put that mouth to better use than singing, would you?”

“You don’t like my singing voice?” Steve asks innocently.

Eddie opens his eyes as he props himself up on his elbows. He’s up just in time for Steve to come back up so they’re face to face again.

“Give me a kiss,” Steve requests.

Eddie sits up fully and cups Steve’s face with his hands, pulling him in for a slow kiss.

Steve draws back just enough to speak.

“Now tell me you love me,” Steve whispers.

“I love you, Stevie,” Eddie breathes, going in for another kiss.

“And say you’re sorry for insulting my singing voice,” Steve says when he pulls back again.

“Never,” Eddie breathes with a quiet laugh.

Steve sings the next verse louder, right into Eddie’s face as he pushes him to lay down again. Steve finds the lube again, falling quiet as he concentrates on opening it and rubbing it between his fingers to warm it.

Eddie knows what comes next in the song, and as Steve moves two fingers inside him, he prays to all the gods he doesn’t believe in that Steve doesn’t do what Eddie thinks he’s going to do—

He does. He pulls his fingers out so he can do the drumming on Eddie’s spread thighs with his hands.

That has Eddie rolling out of bed and reaching for his underwear.

“Baby, where are you going?” Steve asks.

“Steve, I’m sorry, but I cannot fuck in these conditions,” Eddie says, pulling his boxers up and over his hips.

“Noo,” Steve whines. “It gets better! No more singing, or drumming, okay? Promise. I swear on Dustin’s mother.”

“Dude you are Dustin’s mother,” Eddie tells him.

He pushes his boxers back down though and settles into the bed again.

The song fades into the next and Eddie can live with it, he guesses. It’s not anything he would put on his own sex mix, but it’s fine.

Steve looks like he’s about to sing, though and Eddie gives him a pointed look.

“You’re on your last life, dude. Mess this up and it’s game over, bud,” Eddie tells him.

Steve mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key and Eddie laughs.

Eddie spreads his legs again and Steve bends down to kiss the scars covering Eddie’s abdomen. He works three fingers into Eddie this time and finally takes his cock into his mouth. Eddie isn’t so worked up anymore, but Steve’s ministrations quickly get him back to fully hard.

“Oh— fuck, baby, I’m ready,” Eddie decides.

Steve keeps good on his promise and even as Kiss On My List ends and Waiting for a Girl Like You begins, Steve seems to ignore the music. That makes it easier for Eddie to put it into the back of his mind.

Eddie reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom out of the drawer. He tosses it at Steve, who keeps stretching Eddie for just a little while longer.

He finally rolls the condom over his cock and lubes himself up and Eddie spreads his legs even further in anticipation. Steve presses against him, slowly inching his way inside. Eddie pulls him down for a kiss, his mouth hanging open on a moan.

The song comes to an end just as Steve bottoms out inside him, and in the few seconds between songs, Eddie adjusts to Steve’s cock inside him. Steve leaves wet kisses all over Eddie’s neck, grazes his teeth in the spots he knows drive Eddie wild.

Eddie almost doesn’t realize what song comes next, too in love and feeling too good to really process it, but when it clicks, it ruins the entire mood.

“Nope,” Eddie says, shoving Steve off of him. “Nope, dude. I’m not having sex to Cat’s in the fucking Cradle, dude. Fuck off.”

Steve looks absolutely lost, just sitting on the bed where Eddie pushed him.

“Get dressed and get in the car,” Eddie orders. He reaches down to pick up his own underwear again and finds his jeans. He has to force his dick inside and it’s near painful as he zips up his tight pants, but he’ll fucking manage. He pulls the tape out of the player and shoves it back into the case. It goes into his pocket.

Steve is still sitting on the bed, his dick hard between his legs, and his face completely and utterly confused, and a little hurt, too. Eddie walks over to him, kisses him on the forehead, and reaches between them to pull the condom off. Steve groans at Eddie’s touch, but Eddie doesn’t give him any more of that.

He tosses the condom in the trash and bends down to pick up Steve’s underwear and finds him a pair of pants because the shorts he wears around the house are completely indecent. He tosses the pants and the shirt Steve had been wearing earlier at his boyfriend.

“Get dressed. I’ll be in the car,” Eddie says again.

He stops to pee on the way, and he stops to drink a glass of water, too, trying to calm himself down a bit.

He feels like a bit of a dick, but really. Harrington has some issues if this is his ‘awesome sex mix,’ because wow.

Steve slides into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van with his arms crossed over his chest and a hurt look on his face.

“Hey, I love you,” Eddie tells him, reaching out to pat his thigh.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters. “Where are we going?”

“Joyce and Hopper’s.” Eddie answers as he puts his van in drive. He pulls away from the curb and ignores Steve’s questions.

The Byers wanted to move back into town shortly after the whole Vecna ordeal, but they had a lot of loose ends to tie up in California. They had to pack up the house and finish up the school year even if none of the kids cared about that school one way or another. Plus, Hawkins was in a state of complete disaster.

It took them a few months to finally make the move back, and now their moving truck has arrived, and just about everyone is over helping them unpack. Everyone except Eddie and Steve, who decided they deserved a night alone if the kids were otherwise occupied.

Eddie pulls up in front of the new house and kills the engine.

Steve looks like he’s about to combust in his seat, so Eddie just leans over and kisses him on the cheek and gets out of the car.

He walks right into the front door, which is open as people walk out to get new boxes to carry inside.

“Eddie!” Joyce greets him. “Oh I wasn’t expecting you boys!”

“We decided our time would be better spent helping you all. Isn’t that right, Stevie?” Eddie asks, turning to look at Steve behind him.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters again.

“Well, come in. Hop’s in the kitchen mixing drinks right now, so you better find him before he’s done if you want something,” Joyce says, leading them into the house. “We’ve still got furniture and tons of boxes to move in, so it’s good you strong boys are here.”

Eddie nods, grinning.

“Hey, I brought a tape. Can I play it?” Eddie asks.

“Oh of course, sweetie,” Joyce smiles.

Steve casts him a glare. Eddie smiles at him and goes to the stereo system, already set up. He lifts the needle on the record currently playing and pops the tape into the tape deck beside the turntable.

“Eddie please don’t,” Steve says.

“Sorry, baby,” Eddie grins. “It’s already playing!”

The opening notes of Africa come through the speakers.

“I didn’t think this was your style, Munson,” Hopper says as he comes into the living room.

“Oh, this is Stevie’s,” Eddie tells him.

“That makes more sense,” Hopper nods.

“Okay, but tell me if it makes sense to be his sex mix,” Eddie says.

“Eddie,” Steve pleads. “Don’t tell them that.”

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” Joyce says wistfully.

“Our sex is not romantic,” Eddie laughs. “Steve is one kinky motherfucker.”

“No I’m not?”

“Okay, baby, whatever you say,” Eddie winks. And the thing is— Steve isn’t really. Neither is Eddie, not the way he advertises himself, anyway, with the flagging and the cuffs on his wall. He doesn’t use those with Steve. They both have their things, sure, but Eddie finds Steve entirely endearing, and yes, he’s definitely a romantic even when they’re spitting in each other’s mouths and eating each other’s asses.

“I’m really not,” Steve whispers to Joyce.

She’s giggling, while Hopper looks completely affronted. Eddie doesn’t take offense to it. When they came out to Hopper and Joyce, Hopper had said ‘I don’t like this. Not because you’re gay or whatever, but because you two are kind of disgusting and weird.’ Which is really kind of true. That’s why Eddie has made it his mission to bother Hopper in any way he can by giving him details he never asked for.

The songs bleed into each other as Steve and Eddie help bring boxes in and move furniture around. Hopper makes weird faces when some of them come on, and Joyce can be found whispering in his ear at different times.

Nancy comes downstairs and Steve looks like he’s about to flee. Eddie grabs onto his wrist and pulls him near.

“Is this Steve’s?” Nancy asks amused suspicion on her face. Jonathan comes down right behind her and stops.

“Is this—”

“How do you know about this, Byers?” Eddie asks.

Jonathan looks really fucking uneasy, and maybe Eddie’s jealousy showed through just a bit too much, too much of an edge to his voice.

Nancy just fucking laughs.

“Don’t worry, Eddie, I told him,” she assures him. She comes up and pats his cheek, an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry you have to go through this.”

“Hey! The ladies never complain!” Steve defends himself.

“And how many many of those ladies had a second date?” Eddie asks.

Steve’s face goes bright red.

Cat’s in the Cradle starts playing. Hopper walks over to the tape player and shuts it off.

“I should arrest you for that,” he says, throwing the tape at Steve’s chest.

“Eddie’s is so much worse!” Steve shouts.

“At least my songs are about fucking, dude!”

“Shh, the kids are here,” Joyce says, shushing all of them.

“Munson, where’s your tape?” Hopper asks.

“Oh, it’s uh, at home?”

“No, it’s not. We fucked in your van last night,” Steve reminds him. As if Eddie forgot. He rode Steve like his life depended on it, took a break to smoke a cigarette and eat a poptart, and then fucking did it again. He’s not forgetting that.

“Didn’t need that info,” Hopper mutters. “Go get it, Harrington.”

Steve pulls the keys out of Eddie’s pocket and runs out to the van.

The tape gets popped into the player and Eddie has to remind himself not to pop a stiffy after associating these songs almost entirely with fucking Steve for the last six months.

Crazy Train starts and Hopper furrows his brows and looks at Eddie.

“You said your songs are about fucking?” he asks. “I don’t want to know what you definition of fucking is, then, I guess.”

“Okay fine!” Eddie yells. “Maybe not all of them are, but at least they’re not about fucking, like, father-son relationships and daddy issues. Holy fuck.”

Hopper reads over the tracklisting that Eddie carefully wrote on it.

“Crazy Train twice?” he asks.

“To get him going and to wind him down, as he said earlier,” Steve answers before Eddie can defend himself.

“There’s a lot of WASP on here,” Hopper comments.

“Okay okay! Make fun of the freak, whatever,” Eddie mutters. “It’s not fucking Cat’s in the Cradle, though!”

“Maybe both of your mixtapes are bad, huh?” Hopper suggests.

“Like you could make a better one,” Eddie challenges.

“Oh, I have. Trust me, I have,” Hopper smirks.

“He has,” Joyce agrees.

“Ew, mom,” Jonathan mutters. “At least wait until I’m out of the room.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Joyce says.

The conversation ends when the kids all come barreling down the stairs. Dustin throws himself at Steve, and Steve stumbles back as he tries to accept the hug. Eleven has one arm looped with Max’s, helping her carefully down the stairs. The two girls pull Eddie into a hug and ask if he wants to paint his nails with them and braid each other’s hair, and how could he say no to that?

He takes a glance at Steve, who doesn’t seem so mad anymore, and he agrees, but tells them to wait a minute.

He has to push through the boys to get to his boyfriend, and he leaves a smacking, wet kiss on his cheek.

“Love you,” Eddie whispers into his hair.

“Love you, too, baby,” Steve whispers, turning his face to press a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips.

“Gross,” Max mutters. “You guys are so gross.”

“You can’t even see us, Red!” Eddie laughs.

“I can hear you! And you sound fucking gross!”

Maybe they’re gross. Maybe their mix tapes are bad. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

They’re meant for each other.

on AO3

[sivavakkiyar]

this was a great album I loved in HS—-it’s still available from bandcamp, I think you can listen to most of it right off the site

it’s kind of interesting that a decade ago this was like a novelty ethnographic album! but back then Awesome Tapes From Africa was a free sharity blog, not a literal label. More to the point it was an oddity strange point of history to again like the NPR crowd—-Bollywood? Popular in Nigeria?….and Russia?? Now I don’t think that has the same cache of ‘woaaaah wild’

[dustedmagazine]

Marc Masters — High Bias: The Distorted History of the Cassette Tape (University of North Carolina Press)

There’s a popular theory, advanced with varying degrees of seriousness, that the best kind of music is whatever was released when you were about 16. There’s also a fairly well-known Brian Eno quotation about the way we tend to romanticize forms of media just as they fall out of currency, eventually becoming loved even for their shortcomings. One of the biggest strengths of Marc Masters’ High Bias, a new history of the compact cassette (as it was originally known), is that it refuses both the personally biased special pleading of the former and the possibly distorting format nostalgia of the latter. Instead Masters brings together a fascinating technical history of the creation, limits, and virtues of the cassette tape, an overview of some of the areas where the medium has been most richly used and adopted, and a reflection on its continued vitality.

That last aspect, which is reflected on throughout High Bias and forms the focus of the book’s last chapter, is one example of the balance Masters manages to strike. It would be easy to fall into a kind of strenuous insistence on the most optimistic vision of the cassette’s future, to tell us that it could or should regain a level of prominence it hasn’t seen in decades. But to do so would require a… selective choice of data, and would probably fall into a kind of “protesting too much” register for many readers. Masters instead has the confidence and knowledge of the actual current (vital, but subcultural) role of cassette tapes to make the more modest but resonant point that the ‘cassette revival,’ such as it is, is already with us and shows no signs of going away. And he both puts this in its proper, inspiring context and makes a persuasive case for its importance because of the book’s continual emphasis on the democratizing and personalizing aspects of cassette tape as a medium.

The opening chapters, which include relatively brief looks at the context of recording technology prior to and at the time of the cassette’s introduction, set the stage well. Masters doesn’t shy away from acknowledging the social, marketing and profit motives impinging on the development and success of the medium (and the sometimes panicked response of the music industry to it, “home taping is killing music” and all), and points out how those aren’t totally separable from the explosion in personal expression that tapes allow. From there, High Bias branches out, looking at various places and times cassettes have helped or even allowed particular peoples, scenes or genres to be heard and spread in ways other media haven’t managed. From Deadheads to the early days of hiphop, Awesome Tapes From Africa to some of the more extremely personal examples that sometimes overlap with those covered in Michael Tau’s recent Extreme Music (reviewed on Dusted here), this slim volume doesn’t pretend to be exhaustive but does manage to illuminate enough different areas most readers may find themselves surprised by at least one of the many little pockets Masters looks into.

The second-last chapter, “The Tape Makers,” may be where High Bias hits many of its intended audience in an even more personal place. Here the book shifts slightly from people making music onto, or then distributed via, cassette, and instead delves into the personal mixtape. The balance between creation and curation is never that clearcut, of course, and the chapter doesn’t pretend it is. But whereas after the cassette we have burned CDs and playlists, before the team at Philips first brought the compact cassette to the world there was simply no mass-available form that offered the particular form of expression that a mixtape does. As with the rest of High Bias, here Masters uses a blend of interviews, secondary sources and direct experience to convey the unique role and impact of the cassette, both in its historical moment and persisting into the current day.

It’s not that the cassette tape is a “better” medium than vinyl, CD, DAT, or saved or streamed digital files (what would “better” even mean in anything other than a subjective sense?), and it’s not that High Bias, despite its doubly accurate title (both a desired quality in a cassette and an implicit acknowledgment that this a very pro-tapes book), tries to make that claim. But Masters clearly had in his sights a compelling portrait of the strengths of the format, and what makes it different from those other media, and here he convincingly portrays it as a special and worthy one. He’s even set up a, well, mixtape for the book on Bandcamp (linked at the beginning of this review), 12 tracks all sourced from current tape labels he discusses in the book. Notably, you can buy that mix on a cassette.

Ian Mathers

[einsteinsugly]

Eric and Donna's Awesome Wedding Cassette Tape. From Jackie and Hyde.

*****

Initial Reviews:

"If you put freakin' Africa on there, I'm kicking your asses." -Donna

"Where is Styx?" -Eric

Later Reviews:

"It was great, really." -Donna

"I love The Beatles, man." -Buzzed Eric

****

Side A:

"Dream On" by Aerosmith

"Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" by The Police

"Fernando" by ABBA

"Hello It's Me" by Todd Rundgren

"Here Comes The Sun" by The Beatles

"In My Life" by The Beatles

"Low Rider" by War

Side B:

"Maybe I'm Amazed" by Paul McCartney

"Something" The Beatles

"Thirteen" by Big Star

"Walk This Way" by Aerosmith

"What You Won't Do For Love" by Bobby Caldwell

"You've Got a Friend" by Carole King

"You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor

[secretmessages1983]

if you guys want to expand what you listen to especially when it comes to african music which i think is often overlooked in the western world check out everything that comes out from awesome tapes from africa it will blow you away

i also have a fun little playlist of international music i like :-) (that i need to add more to but it's still got some good stuff on it)

[ourladyofomega]

Ata Kak wearing a shirt of himself.

[burlveneer-music]

Hailu Mergia — Belew Beduby (Live) - teaser for forthcoming live album Pioneer Works Swing (Nov. 3)

Hailu Mergia — Keyboards, Accordion, Melodica, Vocals Alemseged Kebede — Bass Guitar Kenneth Joseph — Drums It’s been a little over ten years since Hailu Mergia re-emerged on the international music scene. Following the first in a series of his classic recordings reissued in collaboration with Awesome Tapes From Africa, Mergia assembled a band and began performing live again after many years driving a cab in Washington, DC. His first show back appeared on the front page of the New York Times along with a stellar review and he took off from there performing his flavor of Ethiopian jazz all over the world in the years since, including Radio City Music Hall and Montreal Jazz Festival. Finally, we have a recorded document of the keyboard player’s powerful DC-based trio—which practices each weekend in his basement—featuring Kenneth Joseph on drums and Alemseged Kebede on bass. Beautifully captured at one of their fiery live shows at the venerable Brooklyn non-profit cultural center Pioneer Works on July 1, 2016, the concert was recorded by PW staff and mixed by Ted Young with mastering by ATFA’s expert audio extraction collaborator Jessica Thompson. The performance clarifies what many people across the globe already know: in his fifth decade of music-making Hailu Mergia continues to push the boundaries of his remarkable abilities.

[mywifeleftme]

95: Bola // Volume 7

Volume 7 Bola 2009, Awesome Tapes From Africa (Bandcamp)

Awesome Tapes From Africa has become a top reissue label on the strength of archival releases like Hailu Mergia & Dahlak Band’s Wede Harer Guzo (possibly the continent’s biggest “rediscovery” since William Onyeabor) and Dur-Dur Band’s Volume 5, but they also handle more recent work like DJ Black Low’s extremely cool South African house compilation Uwami. Originally released on cassette in 2009 (reissued 2012), Bola’s Volume 7 is another on the newer end of the spectrum. There’s not a ton about the artist online, so I’m leaning on the helpful sleeve notes, which tell me Bola grew up a livestock herder in a remote region of Upper East Ghana. He plays the kalogo, a two-stringed lute, sings in Frafra, and accompanies himself with a drum machine and occasional minimal electronic garnishes. The songs are long, rhythm-driven, and extremely repetitive, similar in that regard (to my untrained ear) to the Moroccan Gnawa trance music that influenced Nass El Ghiwane or the Moorish music of Mauritania documented on the Wallahi La Zein!! compilation. Lyrically, I’ve got nothing for you, though the liners suggest these are story songs, likely relying on tropes familiar to the intended audience. Kalogo music is traditionally intended to fuel rituals and communal dances, and Bola’s sound has a relentless beat suitable for the job.

Unfortunately, this one’s never really hit for me despite quite a few attempts. I suspect it’s partly because I’m deaf to the words, and partly because Bola’s sound is so minimalist that there isn’t a lot to focus on aside from his voice (which is passionate and expressive) and his playing (which is rhythmically tight but doesn’t vary much). There is also a lot of music on Volume 7. Awesome Tapes chose to press the complete cassette on vinyl, resulting in an eight-song double LP. As a cassette, it’s great bang for your buck, meaning you don’t have to do much rewinding or tape-flipping while dancing or driving, but on wax it starts to feel like a bit of a slog to get through in a sitting. As someone outside Bola’s cultural context, in the end I gotta plead respectful ignorance of Volume 7’s musical charms.

95/365

[omegaremix]

Omega WUSB Summer 2021 Broadcasting Season.

Seventeen shows.

It’s the most Omega WUSB had ever done in a three-month span at that point. We usually do that in six months time. How was this all possible? One of our resident hip-hop programs Battlezone Radio had moved out of its’ weekly Wednesday midnight-3AM slot. We always love the extra time outside of our deluxe bi-weekly Saturday 10PM-midnight block, so we asked to take it and surprisingly, our reclusive deadbeat program-director at the time simply let us. And we had ideas. Lots of them.

Since that April, we had both bi-weekly slots. The new Wednesday slots are our ‘bonus’ broadcasts - music we play which didn’t fit our usual new, current, and relevant ‘deluxe’ Saturday shows. We used those Wednesday slots to fully exemplify independent radio. Vinyl / crate-digging finds, golden-era hip-hop / rap, thrash punk, noise, classic punk, classic industrial, and (for the first time ever) African musics made the cut. Our deluxe shows? Indie, electronic, noise rock, hardcore, post-punk / d.i.y., metalcore, shoegaze, and a double deluxe (!) showcase of everything hip-hop when we filled-in for -Tash’s Sound Vines. Too bad we couldn’t fill in for her a second time as we didn’t have enough music for another double deluxe show. (Wait ‘til next year.) And the most amazing thing? My friend Rob Villain came to visit New York City on a day we did our show, so he co-hosted. I hadn’t seen him in nine years, so we made the best of whatever little time he had before the flight to Las Vegas.

Still not content with doing two bi-weekly shows, our forever friend Kim of Purple Starlight also asked us to fill-in for her twice from midnight-3AM. That meant two label tributes in Awesome Tapes From Africa and Mexican Summer. As you see, Summer was always our time to burn bright to play the best finds of almost every genre imaginable and also go off-the-board to play other music we also like.

Why did we play all of this on our show? I am a diverse dee-jay behind the controls, so what you hear is also what I’m genuinely into. I have no threshold of sound whatsoever. Music is more accessible than ever before and even before the advent of the internet I always got my hands on everything I possibly could. Also, WUSB is an independent student-run station. Our dee-jays play what we want. We’re not fed money from suits to run an automated playlist or play the same songs you heard on other rock stations hundreds of thousands of times before. We prefer to play artists, songs, and genres other corporate stations wouldn’t dare look at. Simply put: we want to reach everyone, and we want to see who’s out there.

Now here it is: the final results of Omega WUSB’s entire 2021 Summer broadcasting season. Something for almost everyone. Chances are our future summers won’t be as intense as this from this point on, but we could be proven wrong.

June 2, 2021; #266 (vinyl, crate-digging, sampling)

June 5, 2021; #267 (electronics)

June 16, 2021; #268 (golden-era hip-hop, rap)

June 19, 2021; #269 (indie)

June 30, 2021; #270 (thrash, speed, crust punk)

July 3, 2021; #271 (double deluxe hip-hop)

July 10, 2021; #272 (shoegaze, alternative, dreampop)

July 14, 2021; #273 (classic punk)

July 17, 2021; #274 (metalcore, sludge, stoner, doom)

July 28, 2021; #275 (noise, obscura)

July 31, 2021; #276 (hardcore)

August 2, 2021; #277 (Mexican Summer tribute)

August 11, 2021; #278 (old-school, boombox hip-hop)  

August 14, 2021; #279 (noise rock, garage)  

August 25, 2021; #280 (African cassette expo-)  

August 28, 2021; #281 (post-punk, d.i.y., city)  

August 30, 2021; #282 (Awesome Tapes From Africa tribute)

[mediadesignfall2023]

#Artwork #LeylaEbrahimi

1. Wede Harer Guzo is my favorite song and the third release on album Awesome Tapes From Africa. This style of Ethiopian Jazz is so unique and this album in particular is one I find so refreshingly authentic and unique in its delivery. I particularly am drawn to the album cover art, the ways in which it incorporates a modern color palette with a combination of an older authentic vintage feel due to the inclusion of the photo. 

2. I have always loved this album cover, as well as the album itself. IGOR provokes so much in its delivery and impact and challenges the normative forms of rap and pop music, introducing a style all its own as cultivated by Tyler the Creator himself. It’s such a bold statement and that’s what this album cover is to me as well, it’s bold. It’s Tyler in uncut form and it’s against a stark background and it’s introducing a narrative that is not linear and up for interpretation. 

3.  Not only is this one of my favorite albums of all time, but this is one of my favorite album covers of all time. Easily. The Clash, in all its glory, releases London Calling in 1979. I have always loved this cover photo, rock and roll, especially as interpreted by The Clash has always consisted of a sense of rebellion which is so easily depicted here. Additionally, I love the media design that went into the cover of the album and the pink and green offset each other nicely. I also love how the band’s name is NOT the focal point of the cover, it’s not ever the focal point of what they make. The focal point is the music, which is why the most space is given to the words”London Calling” as opposed to “The Clash.”