We all know that Wakanda is a fictional place, but that doesn’t make it any less real. Seeing it come to life on the big screen in movies evokes a feeling one didn’t even know was there. It makes you want to visit the African continent, to see the peoples of so many great nations, to visit the birthplaces of civilization as we know it. So much of the education and history is told from a European point of view as the great achievements, cuisines and cultures that they are not some of it is treated as fiction, no matter how real it is. That’s why even a place that doesn’t exist can stir your soul, because it can authentically reflect a true story that isn’t often told about real people and places.
Zambian artiste Sampa the Great evokes the same sentiments on “As Up, So Down.” It’s no coincidence that she has a song on the album called “Never Forget,” but it’s not just a title that makes a point. Chants, drums, chords and vocals come together in a way that does the term glamorous justice. I don’t mean to make this point lightly or to understate it – this is what Kendrick Lamar would look like if he was from Zambia. The sense of pride and heritage that permeates the song is inseparable from the music and powerful in its beauty. It’s hip-hop, but it’s so much more.
No wonder Joey Bada$$ is lining up to work with him on songs like “Mask On.” The impressive part might be that when she spits bars instead of singing or reciting spoken word poetry, she sounds more like Nicki Minaj — or I guess it might be more accurate to say Nicki sounds like her. Perhaps this is to be expected since Trinidad and Tobago became part of the African diaspora, not by choice, but by force, and like many things stolen from the African continent, those seeds grew to become strong trees with their cultural branches. Just as we wouldn’t have hip-hop music and culture without Jamaica, we wouldn’t have reggae or dancehall without Middle Passage. Exporting music and culture does not justify crimes against humanity and never can, but it is the silver lining to the darkest clouds.
Like those incredibly complicated stories, you can’t sum Sampa up by simply saying she’s from Zambia. She credits that heritage for her inner strength and creativity, but she has also lived in San Francisco, USA and Sydney, Australia for long periods of time. Sampa the Great is also a modern day musician who is connected to the world and vice versa. Thus, James Sakala’s “Imposter Syndrome” can sound like today’s modern rap, but also have a soulful sound as old as human history itself. She doesn’t need to choose either/or – Sampa can be everything at once.
The obvious concern would be that Sampa’s recent ascension to mainstream recognition isn’t exploitative, or that she isn’t playing up to her culture and exaggerating it for people who won’t. they knew the difference. Authenticity is almost a taboo subject when it comes to music. If you come from middle class or wealth, do you have any right to sing or rap about “streets” you’ve never known? Some would say no, and that view has merit. Others would say that a great storyteller can tell the longest of tales, and if they sound believable and you’re entertained, what does it really matter? This also has merit. I can tell you that “Let Me Be Great” featuring Angélique Kidjo transcends the argument. The song is great. PERIOD. Zambian, Australian, American, whatever. Good music is good music.
This is the power of “As above, so below”. Great Sampa may be defined by where she comes from, but she also defines herself by making heartfelt songs with a universal appeal. Even though this new album is my first chance to hear it, somehow I feel like I’ve been hearing it my whole life, and that kind of magic should be appreciated even if the music industry is inherently exploitative. As long as Sampa is getting what’s rightfully his, and by the strength of character he possesses, I don’t think he’d sign her life away for “a sweatbox of Newports and Pumas”, then this album is worth celebrating.
