Nana Osei Twum Barima
Journey to the Unknown
Zephyryus
Review by Bruce Miller
Photo: Laurens-Wille
The seperewa is a lute played in Ghana, arguably the eastern most place in West Africa to feature such an instrument. With its boxy, wooden body, stretched-skin head, and curved neck that connects the strings from the body’s bridge, it most resembles the Ugandan adungu. Historically, it’s an instrument of the 17th Ashanti Empire and of the royal court, where players entertained kings with it. However, come colonization and the influence of the guitar, it fell out of favor, though pastor Kwabena Agyarkoh continued to play it in church services in the early part of the 20th century.
More recently, musicians such as Osei Korankye have been determined to revive it again. Another is Nana Osei Twum Barima, great-grandson of Agyarkoh and nephew of Korankye. And on his debut album, Journey to the Unknown, the seperewa is the driving force behind the music he plays even as his life in Ghent, Belgium has connected him to musicians such as cellist Stefaan De Rycke, sitar player Nicolas Mortelmans, or double bassist Lara Rosseel, all of whom appear on this record.
Addressing the loss of his father, the difficulties associated with moving away from his home culture, as well as being forced to grow up quickly due to these factors, Barima uses the album to open up about loss and sadness, allowing his seperewa to bear witness to his melancholy. “Until When,” for example, laments silence in the face of the destruction of forests and the pollution of the water he once washed his face with as a child. “Akwalaba” rides on a portending single-chord seperewa pattern for a song that serves as a parent’s lament at the way in which their child is coming of age. “Odo,” a duet with his uncle Osei Korankye, may be the record’s highlight. Its subject matter about love and forgiveness provides a lighter touch as Barima’s seperewa percolates under their vocal exchanges.
There’s a certain phrasing in Ghanaian vocals and chord changes, found frequently in classic electric grooves of 1970s-era artists such as Alex Konodu and K Frimpong, or 1960s-era guitar highlife. Traces of this pattern sometimes even appear in quarter-century old hiplife pop. On Journey to the Unknown, this unmistakable melodic phrasing appears almost immediately on the lullabye-like vocal response to the album’s opening track, “Mpaebo.”
A musicologist could tell you what makes this sound Ghanaian, but I find it just as enriching to simply be able to tell where it’s from based on years of listening to music from all over the country. With only his voice, his seperewa, and some harmony vocals, Barima delivers one of the more heartbreaking tracks to be heard this year. Not surprisingly, it’s a song of thanks and praise to god for another day, almost disarming in its kindness. And in an album that never flinches from hardship, this kind of welcoming is a reminder for the listener as well as Barima himself.
It’s likely that the music here will be many people’s introduction to the seperewa, even if they’ve listened Ghanaian drumming from the south or goonji fiddling and homemade lute playing from the north. Thanks to this record, Barima will allow knowledge of this instrument to reach an even wider audience.
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