Kuduro Is Our Lifeline: A Sound of Freedom, and Identity.

I Love Kuduro

 Kuduro to me is a genre that is ever-evolving. And even as the genre gets bigger it does not ever lose the feeling. The feeling that is full self expression. It bridges the gap between maximalism and minimalism. With the production and artists voices exchanging between the two. In recent years songs like ‘bela’ ‘o pintin’, ‘sacode’ or ‘senta no poula poula’ have become some of the more popular songs to leave outside of the southernwestern region. Growing up Angolan in London, meant that my community was very small. Despite this, due to how proud my community was of our culture I never felt that I was missing out on anything. A large reason for this is because of Kuduro music. Music has the ability to connect you to a culture, make you feel a part of something bigger. For me it was the Kuduro movement. Although I did not grow up dancing on the streets of luanda I did however get my five pounds for dropping low to ‘bela’, on wooden floors. 

Photographer Unknown. Angolas Independence Day 1975.

Kuduro was created at a time of civil unrest within Angola. In 1975 a civil war broke out right after Angola gained independence from Portugese colonial rule. The war broke out due to internal conflicts between the political parties MPLA and UNITA about which political party was going to run Angola. The ideological divide between these major parties caused violence to rise within Angola causing grief and creating uncertainty. These emotions fueled the beginning of a genre that forever changed black electronic music.

Beginning within marginalised communities within Luanda, the heavy drums and bass were inspired by the same gun-shots being heard outside on the streets everyday. Tony Amado, who is considered the godfather of Kuduro created this genre in the late 1980s, making it the soundtrack to many young Angolans life, The word Kuduro translates to ‘hard-ass’ a perfect explanation of the genre. This genre provided an escape to the harsh reality people were facing, it liberated them, helping them to feel a sense of freedom in a heavily surveiled country. 

Sambizanga, Luanda, 2015. (Photo: Anita Baumann)

The music inspired a set of dance moves that encourages fast movement, either on beat or

on the off beat. Tony Amado, makes the claim that he was inspired by the drunken bar scene in the film Kickboxer (1989). Through this, and with the help of communities within the streets of Luanda this dance style spread and quickly began to evolve. Other musical artists like DJ Znobia, Titcia, Os Lambos, noite e dia all helped in cultivating the sound and dance. Its electronic nature became actualised through the need of percussion that was much more hard-hitting than live instruments.

They turned to drum pads to bring the rhythms in their heads to life. It reflects the technological limitations that Angolan musicians were having.The production relied on looped drums and, at times, minimal vocals, leaving space since there wasn’t much to record with. Through this in person DJ sets and parties were utilised to spread this movement. The music began as an aspirational feeling that the Angolan people longed for. By the end of the civil war in 2002, that feeling had spread widely. The music started to reflect what Angolans had always desired to feel: hope and excitement. As the years have gone by, that feeling has not escaped Angolans, especially me.

Photographer Unknown. A member of the UNITA. 

 Not too long ago, I went to a party in Central London. It was for a friend of mine and usually with London DJ’s I know what to expect. UK rap, then American then Afro beats and ending with Dancehall and some Rnb. I never anticipated that I would hear a familiar Kuduro drum pattern. But this night was different. It was two hours into the night. I had already finished my first drink and ‘WHAM WHAMIE’ had played so I was satisfied for the night. Until the opening of ‘tchriri’ started, the synths, the drums felt so familiar to me. Immediately I walked my way into the bar, picked up a white handkerchief and began to yell my ‘ewe’s’ as I began to get into formation. Teaching my friend the line dance. And so it began, for the next thirty minutes it was electric, the sounds bounced wall to wall, a circle in the middle was formed and phones were put down.

From this point on we were Angolan’s enjoyed the music that our parents despised due to its vulgarity but loved because of its communal spirit. Even to the people in the party who had never heard this type of music before, hesitant at first due to being unfamiliar. Once noticing what the music required they too began to get involved. Waving their own white handkerchief and doing their own two steps to the beat. From there we began to sweat and release any form of awkwardness or shyness we had before stepping into this dance. It truly was a moment to self- express, for that I would always cherish those thirty minutes. It’s interesting how the nature of the music has remained consistent even with newer hits like ‘banana’, mixing melody and minimal words over loud production. Every Kuduro song whether new or old takes me back to the feeling. The feeling that reminds me I'm alive. Kuduro is our lifeline.