written: 5.02.25 by Ben

Gnonnas Pedro & His Dadjes Band - Roi De L'Agbadja Moderne 1974-1983 review

analog africa | february 07 2025 | afrobeat

The 40th release from Analog Africa, one of my favourite reissues labels currently operating, is a true to form Afrobeat success.  Roi De L'Agbadja Moderne 1974-1983, showcases Gnonnas Pedro & His Dadjes Band playing with a passion and groove that feels timeless. Straight from Nigeria, this compilation overflows with danceable tracks sung in 6 (or more?) different languages, proving that Afrobeat is a universal language of rhythm and joy.

  I first heard this compilation during a Bandcamp listening event, which started bright and early at 5 a.m for me crawling out of bed to grab my headphones (probably an ill-advised environment for such a release). In a mistake from Analog Africa, the album was briefly released in full as a download after the event ended, and I’ve been enjoying it for months now. From the very first play, even in my doozy, half awake, it was clear that this collection captures the wonder and joy of Gnonnas Pedro’ (and bands) pure passion for the form and it had well and truly awoken me for the day.

  What stands out immediately is how live and energetic these tracks feel. The aggressive stereo panning on many songs is a reminder that this music was meant to be played loud and live, with every instrument standing out perfectly in the mix (and their stereo channel). There’s an authenticity and rawness here that’s rare hard to find in modern releases which are constantly aiming for the “perfect mix” and song structures that often appear focus-grouped to appear to as many as possible. While some tracks follow similar structural patterns, the grooves are so infectious that you don’t mind—if it works, why fix it?

  I sometimes find myself struggling with the repetition in Afrobeat and its lengthier tracks, but Pedro and his band strike a perfect balance. They maintain predictable, danceable grooves while introducing subtle variations to keep the music fluid and engaging. ‘Azo Nikplon Doun’, features a playful interplay between brass and hand rhythms, reminiscent of something you might hear on a Buena Vista Social Club album. It’s joyful, light, effortlessly groovy and hard to catch yourself from smiling.

  One of my favorite tracks is [Track 4], which boasts an irresistible bassline and guitar motif that instantly pulls you in. Pedro’s vocals are sparse but powerful, sung in French, allowing space for the band to shine. The interplay of vocals and instrumentation gives the track a hypnotic quality. Meanwhile, [Track 5] brings in some fun background vocals, although it feels like the guitar soloist might have gotten a little too lost in the sauce while playing, but isn’t that what makes Afrobeat so enjoyable—the moments where the musicians lose themselves in the music?

  [Tracks like 8 and 9] showcase exciting percussion breaks, with keys and bongos mimicking the vocals and keeping the rhythm lively. [Track 9] even throws in a cowbell?!?, creating a funky Afrobeat groove before it settles into more familiar territory. The closing tracks, while solid, do drag a bit without much variation—particularly [Track 10] which has a hard time justifying its significant runtime. However, [Track 11] quickly redeems things with some playful saxophone noodling and drum breaks that I imagine producers will be excitingly stumbling upon for years to come.

  Though the recording quality isn’t always pristine, especially on the vocals, where some harshness and tape hiss occasionally break through, these imperfections don’t detract from the overall experience. In fact, they remind us of the challenges involved in preserving historic releases from this era and recording music in Africa well over 40 years ago.