The best record you’ve never heard: Death in Vegas recommend an unknown Rawandan masterpiece
For Richard Fearless, recommending an unknown record to the Far Out reading masses was never going to be easy. As I put him to the task, I knew it had all the hallmarks of a feature set to be waylaid by delays. You can tell why I imagined that might be the case from the masterful Death Mask, the seventh Death in Vegas album that Fearless released way back in July now.
On that album, the electronic pioneer journeys through a tesselated catalogue of rare sounds, passionately woven together to express grief, love, memory, and the magic of letting the mind wander in some underground basement where the floor is so sodden in alcohol slop that your feet stick to it like the wrapper to a warm Chewitt.
Hailed by everyone from Hope Sandoval to Iggy Pop and even the typically anti-hailing Liam Gallagher, Death in Vegas has always had a knack for turning electronic experimentation into something effortlessly resonant and utterly psychedelic. But nothing has yet felt as apt and definitive as the record’s lead single, ‘While My Machines Gently Weep’.
That none-too-subtle nod to The Beatles and ambient world Fearless heralds from captures the vast scope of the album and all the music it entails. You picture Fearless in a creative trance, his favourite inspirations swirling around him like ‘Vinyl Man’, a rejected X-Men side character. So, it came as no surprise to me that the passionate performer carefully considered which of those inspirations he would share with you as his choice of the best record you’ve never heard.
Richard Fearless of Death in Vegas on Rwanda Les Mélodies du Pays des Mille Collines:
Richard Fearless: “I thought long and hard about this, trying to think of some long-lost acid number, but kept coming back to this album. Many moons ago, I was on tour in France, and at one of the venues there was a record shop squirrelled away on the premises, which they kindly opened early after sound check. I spent the day trawling through the racks and stumbled across this record, a collection of Rwandan folk music.”
“The whole album is gorgeous but this particular piece, ‘Umwana W’Umunyarwanda’ by Emmanuelle Sekimonyo, which is a live version of the song, is so powerful. It has such a beautiful, heartfelt vocal and gorgeous backing vocals, which brings back flashes of my youth growing up in Africa, the harmonisation of the choir at mass on Sundays which my father always took us to, and the records that played on the hallowed turntable in our house in Chingola, Zambia.”
“I tend to keep all my electronic music at my studio, but at home I have all my world music, dub and hip-hop. This album always brings a smile to the household when it’s on and reminds me of long days and nights during lockdown and our two sadly departed shrimp, Digger and Buster, who always seemed to get a little active when this song was played.”
“I can’t find any information about this record online, but have now uploaded it to YouTube. I hope you enjoy it as much as we do”.
Emmanuelle Sekimonyo was born in Matyazo, Rwanda, in 1948. In a trailblazing manner, he sang songs that looked to empower the marginalised, particularly women, with ‘Umwana W’Umunyarwanda’ telling the tale of a young girl, mocked for her appearance, and left to fend for herself by those who should care.
It was ahead of its time upon release in the early 1980s in Kigali, along with much of the music on the 1988 compilation, Rwanda Les Mélodies du Pays des Mille Collines, because of the way it perfectly blended traditional folk with a fiercely progressive mindset. But the hint of melancholy in Sekimonyo’s tender vocals also proved tragically prophetic, as he, like many of the artists on the album, would be killed in the Rwandan genocide of 1994.
The song and compilation alike capture a moment whereby proud Rwandan artists made a point in spite of the punishment that they knew they might face. This sentiment is writ large across the record as the songs wail and whimper in a way that makes for a truly poignant listen.
In the trying times of the present, Death Mask carries a similar emotional sentiment of exultational certainty in uncertain times. It’s right up there with Death in Vegas at its best.
