A place or their masterplan, I don’t know, but there is no mistaking their intentions. Ibibio Sound Machine want you to dance ’til you drop.

UNREMITTINGLY JOYFUL

There is something just so unremittingly joyful about Eno Williams and her voice, with Ibibio Sound Machine the perfect vehicle to augment those vocals into a vibrant and uplifting life. Yet, if Williams is the heart of the band, then so Max Grunhard is the cortex, focussing all the diverse neural connections that make up the whole. Grunhard, back on production duties after the band dallied with the undoubted commercial sheen rendered by Hot Chip, for Electricity, and then, by Russ Orton, for the subsequent Pull The Rope. Here the sax and synth man draws the band back into a wider landscape, drawing more deeply on the traditions core to the experiences of all eight members.

Anything but the one-trick pony that the lazy label of Afrotronica suggests, and one I commend rejecting the term forthwith, the array of instrumentation available to the band guarantees never is this within that one box ticked formulaicism. You want brass? You got it, full blown. Beats? Aplenty, alongside more organic manifestations of the all important rhythms. Synths, sequencers and choppy old school keyboards, fractal guitar flickers, soaring standalone vocals and choral chanting, with township funk, afro-jazz, and even dubby post-punk alt-disco sonics, all of these together permeating the mix and perpetuating the vibe.

AN UNSTOPPABLE FORCE

A shimmer of sunbaked keys introduce Burning In Lagos, as repeating drums call out a pattern. With her vocals echoing memories of Grace Jones at her Compass Point peak, Williams sings against those cross-cutting rhythms, as shards of brass cascade onto the skyline. “It’s burning in Lagos, it’s nighttime in London” becomes a repeated mantra, the backing now an unearthly and uncanny mash-up of 70’s TV primetime horns and the looser lope of up-strummed guitars. PK Ambrose’s bass is a statement of intent, slowly whipping the flames up into the crescendo it becomes. The drums of Joseph Amaoko and additional percussion of Afla Sackey drive on relentlessly, alongside scattered electronic bleeps that boost further the sense of an unstoppable force.

DO NOT SIT COMFORTABLY

Having dealt such a killer punch finale, and that right at the very start of the record, the title track is then full of funky Fela-Kuti, as keys swirl and swagger between Alfred Bannerman’s spiky riffing. If you are still sitting comfortably, get your ears tested. Marimba jousts in for a glorious middle eight, with all those horns still locked into Hawaii Five-O. Or should that be Uyo Five-O.

Those horns? That’s Grunhard on sax, Scott Baylis on trumpet and Tony Hayden on trombone, and anyone who has seen the band live will recognise the glee which the trio can impart, as they simultaneously prod the keyboard consoles in front of them. Followed by the straight ahead electro-disco of When You Want To Dance, squelches of Roland TB-303 are all present and correct for the bass notes. Little more than a a work out, over which Williams recites the title of the song, it demands, and gets, full attention. Check the echo that seeps into the brassy parps, as Bannerman gives it his thwacky all on guitar.

SECOND NATURE GROOVE

It is no shock to appreciate all these tracks started life as studio jams, the groove clearly second nature to all present. Concept Of Love sees some vocoder scaffolding add to Williams’ voice, as the instrumental baton gets shuffled between all the band. Bannerman is in an absolute frenzy, towards the end, before leaving the Amaoko/Sackey axis to sharply draw a close. Return To Sender isn’t that one, rather a frantic exhortation, where Williams sounds exhausted even before hitting the all important grind. Give Me Peace has additional input from Dele Sosimi, from Fela Kuti’s Egypt 80 ensemble, with the lyric sprechgesung by he and Williams, she adding also some soul-diva worthy melodic extemporisations.

Menso returns to a makossa style disco beat where the organic and electronic merge seamlessly. an effervesescent bubble pool of rippling exuberance. Put it on, turn it up loud and kick away the chair. Again. Love is an old school soul banger with just a hint of lover’s rock about the hips. It is getting difficult to keep on describing the pleasure that the brass section are giving to all of this. Bannerman also tinkles out a beautiful township solo, as brief as it is buoyant, this damn album just getting better and better.

LAGOS MOTORIK

Kikuyu ramps down with some sonorous synthesiser drone, coupled to marimba and robotic drums, the chorus/title sounding like the call of a bird. However, whether this is the same kikuru as the neodinosaurian cryptid reported from swamps of the Congo, I don’t know, as Williams sings it in the Ibibio tongue, but that idea gives suddenly a whole new spin to what seemed otherwise a gentle tribal hymn. A hypnotic 3 minutes, it leads into the closer, River Don’t Rush. This is perhaps the most organic song here, even as the electricity bustles through the Lagos motorik. Fading ahead of any formal endpoint, it suggests continuity and a work still in progress. For which we should be grateful.

Over their five earlier releases, Ibibio Sound Machine have laid down an enviable track record, honing and applying their USP through various slight spins and twists. And, frankly, it doesn’t get much better than this, with Grunhard now fully informed by any outside influence, stoking all the fires fully from within.

Here’s Concept Of Love:

Ibibio Sound Machine: Website

At The Barrier: Facebook / X / Instagra