Barney Wilen - 2012 - Moshi Too

Barney Wilen 

2012 

Moshi Too

01. Moshi Too

02. Fullys In The Bush

03. Fête A Tam I

04. Zombizar Reloaded

05. Bumba Ciagalo

06. Serenade For Africa

06. Disturbance

08. Barka De Sala

09. Fête A Tam II

10. Leave Before The Gospel

11. Two Twenty-Three

12. Wah Wah

13. Kira Burundi

14. Black Locomotive

Recorded: 1969-1970 in Africa.

Barney Wilen: Tenor Saxophone

Pierre Chaze: Electric Guitar

Michel Graillier: Electric Piano

Didier Léon: Lute

Christian Tritsch: Bass

Simon Boissezon: Bass

Micheline Pelzer: Drums

Caroline de Bendern: Vocals

Babeth Lamy: Vocals

Laurence Apithi: Vocals

Marva Broome: Vocals

Plus uncredited African musicians

Barney Wilen’s Moshi Too: Unreleased Tapes Recorded in Africa 1969–70, released in 2012 by Sonorama Records, is a fascinating postscript to his 1972 cult classic Moshi. Unearthed from the late saxophonist’s estate by his son Patrick Wilen, this collection of previously unreleased recordings from Wilen’s African expedition offers a raw, unpolished glimpse into the sonic chaos of his 1969–70 journey across Morocco, Algeria, Niger, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Senegal. Clocking in at 80 minutes, Moshi Too is less a cohesive album than a time capsule, a collage of field recordings, improvisations, and ambient snippets that feel like the outtakes of a madcap ethnomusicological adventure. Is it a revelatory companion to Moshi, or just a dusty pile of tapes that should’ve stayed in the attic? Let’s dive into this sonic safari, explore the key figures involved, and dissect each track

Barney Wilen (1937–1996), born in Nice, France, was a jazz prodigy who made waves in the 1950s, collaborating with titans like Miles Davis (on the Ascenseur pour l’échafaud soundtrack), Thelonious Monk, and Art Blakey. By the late 1960s, Wilen had grown restless with hard bop, venturing into free jazz, psychedelic rock, and experimental fusion with albums like Dear Prof. Leary. In 1969, he embarked on an ambitious African expedition with his partner, Caroline de Bendern, a filmmaker and vocalist, along with a ragtag crew of musicians, technicians, and filmmakers. Their goal was to document indigenous music, particularly Pygmy songs, but the project spiraled into a two-year odyssey marked by financial ruin, a narcotics bust, and crew mutinies. The result was Moshi (1972), a groundbreaking blend of avant-jazz, African rhythms, and funk. Moshi Too, compiled in 2012 from tapes Wilen preserved, offers raw material from this journey, untouched by the studio polish of its predecessor. Wilen’s later years saw him retreat from music, dabbling in punk and event production before returning to jazz in the 1980s. He passed away in 1996, leaving Moshi Too as a posthumous love letter to his African obsession.

Unlike Moshi, which featured a defined ensemble of French and African musicians, Moshi Too is primarily a collection of field recordings, with Wilen’s saxophone and occasional contributions from his traveling companions. The credits are sparse, reflecting the raw, documentary nature of the tapes:

Barney Wilen (Tenor Saxophone): Wilen is the central figure, his sax weaving through select tracks with the same restless, searching energy that defined Moshi. His presence is sporadic, as many tracks focus on indigenous performances.

Caroline de Bendern (Vocals, Commentary): Wilen’s partner and co-filmmaker, de Bendern appears on some tracks with vocal improvisations or spoken commentary, adding a personal touch to the recordings. Her role is less musical than atmospheric, a voice from the journey.

Various African Musicians (Vocals, Percussion, Balafons): The heart of Moshi Too lies in the unnamed Pygmy, Tuareg, and griot musicians captured in field recordings. Their chants, drum patterns, and balafon performances provide the album’s raw, authentic core.

Uncredited Crew (Ambient Sounds, Instruments): The tapes include contributions from Wilen’s travel companions, likely including percussionists or technicians who joined in impromptu jams, though specific names are absent.

The lack of a formal band makes Moshi Too feel like an ethnographic scrapbook rather than a studio album, with Wilen acting more as a curator than a bandleader. It’s a bit like eavesdropping on a chaotic road trip where everyone’s playing something, but no one’s quite sure who’s in charge.

These tracks, recorded on Nagra and Telefunken tape machines, are presented with minimal editing, preserving their raw, lo-fi charm. Wilen’s saxophone appears sporadically, alongside contributions from Caroline de Bendern (vocals, commentary) and various unnamed African musicians (vocals, percussion, balafons, strings). Let’s dive into each track, acknowledging the speculative nature of some descriptions due to limited documentation and the tapes’ “indeterminate origins.”

1. Moshi Too

Kicking off the album, Moshi Too likely sets the tone with a trance-like Fulani Bororogi chant, echoing the “moshi” ritual (a demon-exorcising trance state) that inspired the original Moshi. Expect polyrhythmic percussion and layered vocals, possibly with ambient desert sounds like wind or distant voices. Wilen’s sax might make a brief appearance, weaving a mournful melody that bridges African tradition with his spiritual jazz influences. It’s a hypnotic opener, but the lo-fi quality makes it feel like you’re listening through a sandstorm. Think of it as Wilen saying, “Welcome back to my African fever dream—buckle up.”

2. Fullys In The Bush

This track, with its evocative title, probably captures a Pygmy or Tuareg performance deep in the “bush,” featuring polyphonic vocals and intricate hand percussion. The “Fullys” (likely a misspelling of Fulani) suggests a focus on nomadic rhythms, perhaps with call-and-response chants. Wilen’s presence is likely minimal, letting the indigenous sounds shine. It’s raw and vibrant, like stumbling upon a village celebration, but the lack of context might leave you wondering if you’re hearing music or a field recording for a lost documentary. Authentic, yet a bit like eavesdropping without an invitation.

3. Fete A Tam I

Fete A Tam I evokes a festive gathering, possibly in Tamale (Ghana) or a similar locale, with lively percussion and group vocals. Expect a joyous, communal vibe—think handclaps, drums, and maybe a balafon or flute. Wilen might add a subtle sax line, blending his Coltrane-inspired phrasing with African rhythms. It’s a danceable moment, but the rough recording quality gives it a bootleg charm, like a party you crashed with a dodgy tape recorder. Fun, but it teases more than it delivers.

4. Zombizar Reloaded

A nod to Moshi’s standout track “Zombizar,” this likely revisits the hypnotic jazz-funk groove of the original, with Wilen’s tenor sax wailing over a pulsing rhythm section (possibly overdubbed later with his French collaborators). African percussion and chants provide a trance-like backdrop, but the “Reloaded” tag suggests a rawer, less polished take. It’s a highlight for jazz fans, with Wilen channeling Pharoah Sanders, though the lo-fi mix makes it feel like a psychedelic jam recorded in a tent. Groovy, but don’t expect studio sheen.

5. Bumba Ciagalo

This track’s title suggests a playful or ritualistic vibe, possibly tied to a specific African community or dance. Expect driving percussion—drums, shakers, or bells—with group vocals in a call-and-response pattern. Wilen’s sax might be absent, letting the African musicians take center stage. The raw energy is infectious, but the lack of structure can feel like a jam session that forgot to end. It’s like dancing at a village fete, only to realize you’re not sure what you’re celebrating.

6. Serenade For Africa

A more reflective track, Serenade For Africa likely features Wilen’s saxophone in a lyrical, modal exploration, backed by sparse percussion or a single African instrument like a kora or balafon. Caroline de Bendern’s vocals or commentary might add a poetic touch, evoking the vastness of the continent. It’s a moment of calm amid the chaos, but its earnestness borders on cliché—like a jazzman’s love letter to a continent he’s only half-understood. Still, the melody lingers like a desert sunset.

7. Disturbance

With a title like Disturbance, expect a chaotic blend of ambient sounds—think marketplace chatter, animal noises, or wind—mixed with dissonant sax squalls or fragmented percussion. Wilen might lean into his free-jazz roots, creating a jarring contrast with the African elements. It’s a bold, experimental track, but it risks feeling like a sound collage gone rogue, as if Wilen accidentally left the tape running during a sandstorm. Adventurous listeners will dig it; others might reach for the skip button.

8. Barka De Sala

Likely referencing the Baraka or blessings of a West African community (possibly Sala, Mali), this track probably features griot-style storytelling with vocals and a stringed instrument like an oud or ngoni. Wilen’s sax might add subtle flourishes, blending spiritual jazz with African folk. The lo-fi quality gives it an intimate, fireside vibe, but the lack of polish makes it feel like a rough sketch. It’s evocative, yet you might wish for a translator to unpack the narrative.

9. Fete A Tam II

A continuation of Fete A Tam I, this track likely ramps up the festive energy with more percussion, group chants, and possibly a balafon duet. Wilen’s sax could reappear, adding a jazzy edge to the celebration. It’s livelier than its predecessor, but the repetition might make you wonder if Wilen’s crew just recorded the same party twice. Still, it’s a vibrant snapshot, like a Polaroid of a festival you weren’t invited to.

10. Leave Before The Gospel

One of the longest tracks (likely around 7:43, based on earlier sources), Leave Before The Gospel is a standout, blending African percussion with Wilen’s frenzied sax and de Bendern’s spoken commentary. The title suggests a religious context, but the vibe is more apocalyptic jam session, with polyrhythmic drums and psychedelic flourishes. It’s intense and immersive, though its loose structure feels like a road trip that’s veered off the map. A highlight for those who love their jazz chaotic and unhinged.

11. Two Twenty-Three

This oddly specific title might refer to a time, date, or location from Wilen’s travels. Expect a short, atmospheric piece with ambient sounds—crickets, footsteps, or distant voices—possibly layered with a brief sax or percussion interlude. It’s more soundscape than song, like a postcard from a fleeting moment in the desert. Intriguing but fleeting, it’s the kind of track that makes you wonder if Wilen just hit “record” and wandered off.

12. Wah Wah

With a title evoking guitar effects or vocal mimicry, Wah Wah likely features a funky, acid-rock-inspired jam, possibly with Wilen’s sax riffing over a driving rhythm. African percussion or chants might underpin the track, creating a cross-cultural groove. It’s a playful nod to the psychedelic era, but the lo-fi mix makes it feel like a garage band jamming in a Saharan oasis. Fun, but it might leave you craving the polish of Moshi’s studio tracks.

13. Kira Burundi

Possibly referencing Burundi’s drumming traditions, Kira Burundi likely showcases intense, polyrhythmic percussion, with group vocals or chants adding a ceremonial feel. Wilen’s sax might weave in, adding a spiritual jazz layer inspired by Coltrane or Sanders. It’s a powerful track, but the raw recording can feel overwhelming, like being caught in a drum circle with no escape. A highlight for rhythm enthusiasts, less so for casual listeners.

14. Black Locomotive

Closing the album, Black Locomotive evokes a sense of movement, perhaps inspired by a train journey or metaphorical departure. Expect a mix of ambient sounds (train whistles, crowd noise) and a slow-burning sax melody from Wilen, possibly over sparse percussion. It’s a reflective coda, tying the chaotic journey together, but its abstract nature might leave you wondering if it’s a grand finale or just Wilen running out of tape. Wistful, yet oddly unresolved.

Moshi Too (Sonorama L-72) is a raw, immersive dive into Wilen’s African expedition, capturing the unpolished energy of his encounters with Pygmy, Tuareg, and griot musicians. Tracks like Zombizar Reloaded and Leave Before The Gospel highlight Wilen’s ability to blend spiritual jazz with African rhythms, while others (Fete A Tam I, Kira Burundi) showcase the vibrancy of indigenous performances. However, the lack of cohesion—exacerbated by the 14-track sprawl—can make it feel like a collection of fragments rather than a unified album. The lo-fi quality, while authentic, is fatiguing over 80 minutes, and Wilen’s sporadic presence might disappoint fans expecting more of his saxophone. Compared to Moshi’s studio-crafted fusion, Moshi Too is a rougher beast, more ethnographic document than polished jazz record.

The tracklist variations (e.g., 13 vs. 14 tracks) likely stem from different curatorial choices during digitization, with Sonorama possibly adding or retitling tracks for the vinyl release to fit LP sides or enhance market appeal. Titles like Zombizar Reloaded and Wah Wah suggest a playful attempt to tie this to Moshi’s legacy, but the lack of standardized naming reflects the tapes’ chaotic origins. If your CD deviates from this list, it could be a regional pressing or a mislabeled bootleg—check the catalog number (L-72) for confirmation.

Moshi Too is a compelling but uneven collection that complements Moshi without surpassing it. Its strength lies in its raw authenticity—the field recordings capture the vibrancy of African musical traditions, from Pygmy chants to balafon duets, with a immediacy that studio polish can’t replicate. Wilen’s sporadic sax contributions add a jazz thread, but his restraint ensures the focus remains on the indigenous sounds. Tracks like “Balafon Duo” and “Griot” are highlights, showcasing the depth and diversity of the African musicians, while ambient pieces like “Touareg Camp at Night” evoke a vivid sense of place.

However, the album’s lack of cohesion is its Achilles’ heel. The collage-like structure, while true to the source material, feels fragmented, with some tracks (like the “El Hadji” interludes’ spiritual cousins) serving as fleeting sketches rather than fully realized pieces. Wilen’s limited presence might disappoint fans expecting more of his signature tenor, and the lo-fi quality, while charming, can be fatiguing over 80 minutes. Compared to Moshi, which balanced field recordings with studio craft, Moshi Too feels like a rough draft, a collection of “spare parts of indeterminate origins,” as critic Jason Ankeny aptly put it.

The 2012 release by Sonorama, with its gatefold vinyl and liner notes by Caroline de Bendern, adds historical context, making Moshi Too a valuable document for fans of Wilen or ethnomusicology. Its rarity (and the original Moshi’s $500+ price tag) fuels its allure, but the music itself is more of a curiosity than a masterpiece. It’s a window into a failed expedition that somehow birthed a classic, like finding a treasure map in a shipwreck.

Moshi Too arrives in the wake of the 1960s and ’70s “world music” boom, when artists like Don Cherry and Yusef Lateef sought to fuse jazz with global traditions. Wilen’s African journey, inspired by the 1968 Paris Revolt and a desire to escape Western musical norms, reflects the era’s fascination with cultural exploration, though it carries the baggage of potential exoticism. The tapes, recorded during a chaotic expedition marked by financial woes and crew conflicts, capture a moment of cross-cultural ambition that was both visionary and flawed. The 2012 release, coming after the 2008 and 2017 reissues of Moshi, taps into a renewed interest in obscure jazz and ethnographic recordings, aligning with labels like Sublime Frequencies and the avant-garde revival of the 2010s.

Moshi Too is a raw, riveting, and occasionally frustrating dive into Barney Wilen’s African odyssey. It’s not the polished masterpiece of Moshi, but it doesn’t try to be—instead, it offers an unfiltered look at the sounds and experiences that shaped that landmark album. The field recordings, from Tuareg children’s chants to griot storytelling, are the heart of the collection, while Wilen’s sax adds fleeting moments of jazz magic. Tracks like “Balafon Duo” and “Touareg Camp at Night” shine, but the album’s fragmented nature and lo-fi grit make it a niche listen, even for Moshi devotees. It’s like rummaging through a traveler’s suitcase—full of treasures, but you’ve got to dig through some chaos to find them. For those who love their jazz with a side of adventure and a hint of madness, Moshi Too is a journey worth taking, even if it’s not the smoothest ride.