Polobi & the Gwo Ka Masters: Abri Cyclonique album review — sounds of the rainforest

We are in the rainforests of Guadeloupe. A shimmer of keyboards, a rumble of drums, and Moïse Polobi begins to sing in the local Creole: “Kawmelito, you old shoe, I heard your cry as I lay down in the woods after planting yams to feed my children.” As a child, he danced at the feet of the Gwo ka drummer and Guadeloupean musical hero Guy Konkèt.

Now in his late sixties, Polobi lives in the forests, recording songs on cheap cassette tapes. During lockdown, he emerged to perform an impromptu concert with his friend Klod Kiavué. In the audience was a French music impresario, Valérie Malot, who whisked both men into a recording studio with the Irish-French producer Doctor L (Liam Farrell on his days off).

Farrell’s imprint on any production is a gamble: will it be as revelatory as his work with Mbongwana Star or as cluttered as with Les Amazones D’Afrique? Happily, this is among his best work to date — sensitive to the essence of Gwo ka music, a dialogue between voice and drum, but subtly heightening its strangeness. Polobi’s songs constitute a travelogue, celebrating the mountains of Grande Savane: the harmony of the big woods, the rivers and the birdsong (“Driv”); the scattered houses (“Zion”); Creole (“Léono”); even the Tour de Guadeloupe on “Camargo”, presumably a tribute to the 1986 winner of the yellow jersey, Alberto Camargo.

Electronic birdsong chatters through “Nèg Africa”, as Polobi hymns Caribbean pan-Africanism. We are from Jamaica, from Dominica, from Senegal, from the Congo, he sings, call-and-response style, as Farrell leaves dabs of dub-style piano hanging in the air. “Méndémélé” is the most leisurely work song imaginable, gentle scatted exhortations over swinging acoustic bass and modest piano. Every listen yields up more secrets hidden in the trees.

★★★★★

‘Abri Cyclonique’ is released by Real World