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The Album is FINISHED!
(but not without some heated arguments, exhaustion, and a little machine gun fire)
Not bad for completing it within our first two weeks! The msela very took the project very seriously and wanted to go hard on recording everyday until all six tracks were completed. It was interesting to see them start to tire out as the end of the week neared, but it’s no wonder. We (Danya, Jay and I) were all exhausted from day after day filming in the “Bikram Room” (did I mention it was 30-35 outside and felt like a cool oasis in comparision to the studio, let alone the “booth” which was a few degrees hotter still) and these guys (we had to keep reminding ourselves) sleep outside on the street and still have to get at sunrise and wash cars until 11am when they meet us outside our hostel to head to the studio. It was impressive what they were able to accomplish, negotiating which tracks to record, deciding who would sing the verses, taking direction from the producers, and none of them having never seen the inside of a recording studio, let alone create an entire album.
Drama
On the morning of the 3rd day of recording, Jay and I had had a conversation about how well things were going, TOO well in fact. We were beginning to worry that our film, without a little conflict, would seem unrealistic, idealistic, or heaven forbid, boring. We had spoken too soon.
Kisu, one of the msela that was on the original track Hivyondivi Tunavoishi (the song on our promo video) which we planned to record a remix of, had come to the studio as per our request. We didn’t want to record a remix of the song without at least two of the artists from the original track and had asked the guys to find Kisu, who sings the chorus on the original, and bring him along. Apparently, one of the other msela on the track is in jail now and we wanted to cover our bases (asses) so as not to piss off a soon-to-be-released street hustler or cause conflict between our guys and another maskani (think West Side Story). What we didn’t know was that beefs (beefi) existed between Ninja and Kisu that may or may not have had anything to do with the said track, but whatever it was was still very much an issue. As soon as we disembarked the dala-dala an heated argument erupted which resulted in Kisu being told to leave. Great. Unfortunately (or fortunately for the film), this did not seem to be the end of it and the arguments (which, in Tanzania, is a very common form of communication and does not seem to ever lead to physical violence, the mama lishe fist fight being an exception) continued at the studio and seemed to go on for at least 2 hours. We’ve been told that when there is an argument here (in TZ), it is rarely left unresolved and “discussion” will continue until some kind of agreement is met. This is exceptionally true for life in the maskani and because these guys are essentially each other’s family, they must decide as a group what will be done. Eventually they did.
Finishing the album ended somewhat anti-climatically as the last verse was recorded and mixed into the final track, Hivyondivi Tunavoishi. By this point, the msela had little energy left to be excited after a solid week of recording (and arguing) and we all left the studio looking forward to having the next day off to rest.
Machine Gun Fire. Oh great.
We returned with fresh ears 2 days later to hear the completed album and pick up the CD. It was obvious when we arrived that there was still a little bit of work to be done on some of the tracks so Jay and I waited in the hallway of the studio, Danya and the msela were arriving a little later. Eventually, the producers invited us into the studio to listen while they finished working on the music. Our worst nightmare was coming true. The tracks (in true Bongo Flava style) had been seriously (over)produced. Think Fresh Prince of Bel Air. In Hakati Maskani, one of the more “hardcore” tracks, stock machine gun fire (albeit, perfectly timed to the beat) was inserted to the song and in another, the voice of the msela had been distorted to the extent that it bore a striking resemblance to that Cher hit, Do you Believe in Life after Love. Our hearts were sinking fast. When we had left the studio at the end of last week, we were feeling pretty stoked that we’d help create a kick-ass album that had potential to do well at home (N.A.) as well as here. Now, we weren’t sure what we had. At the end of the day, this was not OURS anyway and they guys would have the final say on the production and whether the machine gun fire would stay or go.
The Cut
They loved it. They especially loved the gun fire. Our hearts sank even further, but watching them listen to the final cuts of their songs made most of our worries wash away. At the end of the day, it was their music and they had made it. There was genuine giddy excitement on everyone’s faces, well, everyone’s but Shallo’s. He was steaming. His verse had been cut out of the last track and he wanted to know why. Another epic argument erupted and carried on out into the backyard of the studio. Even Ally, the studio owner, was involved this time. Somehow, and we won’t really know until we translate the whole affair, they worked it out again and came to some agreement as they always seem to do, Shallo got his verse put back on the track, and the msela left with a shiny CD of their album untitled Maisha Magumu (Hard Life).
