Rikki Stein recalls the fun of managing Afrobeat legend

Rikki Stein, manager of the downtrodden Nigerian musician Fela Kuti, recalls that at least a million mourners attended his funeral.

“Everywhere you looked, the roads were packed with people,” he said, recalling that August day in Lagos in 1997.

The Afrobeat king, revered by his people but feared by those in power, has died at the age of 58, reportedly from complications from AIDS.

But Stein believes that Fela, who was arrested several times for speaking out against successive military regimes, actually died for deeper reasons.

“Fela died from too many beatings. His body was scarred and his mind and spirit had to cope with 200 arrests. The system can only take so much.

Throughout his long career, Fela provocatively criticized those in power, particularly a series of military rulers, and lampooned them on albums such as The Coffin of a Head of State.

His music has the ability to draw people from within and help them begin to imagine another world.

“I was stunned,” Stein, now 81, said of first seeing Fela’s album in the 1970s.

“The music spoke to me in a way I had never encountered before, exuding warmth, intimacy, excitement and a constant sense of anticipation. Every word spoke to my heart and vividly described life under a totalitarian regime, but I can clearly see how this information applies to any country.

It’s perhaps no surprise that managing someone with such charisma and vision can be unpredictable and hectic.

They first met in a London hotel room in 1982, where Stein was hoping to convince Fela to attend a music festival, a hint of what was to come.

“As I entered, a strong wave of heat hit me.

“It was winter and very cold. I was wearing a hat, a coat, a scarf and a sweater. As far as I know, Fela always carries extra heaters when he tours to get close to the temperatures he’s used to.

“Fela was sitting on the sofa, wearing only swimming trunks. [swimming trunks]. We shook hands and he invited me to sit with him on the couch.

“I made a comment about the hot weather and started taking off a few layers of clothing, but I didn’t seriously put my Speedos on. Suddenly we were both laughing and a friendship began that would last the rest of his life.

Later that year, Stein traveled to Lagos to discuss becoming Fela’s joint manager. He realized early on how influential he was in his home country.

Stein was stuck at passport control while the person in charge lazily checked documents behind some smoked glass.

“There was a sudden commotion in the baggage hall. It was Fela Kuti, climbing over the carousel and coming toward us, shouting ‘Rikki!’ When he came to me, he gave me a hug.

“‘What are you doing standing there?’

I pointed to the smoked glass windows. He walked over and tapped his finger on the glass. The passport appeared. “Come on, Rikki, let’s go.”

“Fela drove us away. He’s a great driver, but, man, he drives fast, like his life.

Over the next few years, despite the intensity, Stein never tired of watching Fela give her all on stage.

“Fela reigns supreme.

“He was everywhere at the same time; playing keyboard, soprano or alto saxophone, with the occasional drum solo, a sinuous dance from one side of the stage to the other, and then a time to sing, the ever-present spliff held in his elegant fingers superior.

“For sheer skill, panache, style and courage, no one can beat this guy.”

His shows were more than just concerts, they were events – perhaps none stranger than an infamous show in Belsize Park, north London, which involved simulated deaths and accidents resurrection.

In 1984, Fela appeared on stage with his mystical mentor, a Ghanaian known as the “Hindu Professor.”

On the morning of the London show, Stein received a call from the publicist at the venue.

“‘The professor is here, digging a grave outside.’ I called Fela and asked him if he knew why. “He didn’t ask me why I played the saxophone, and I didn’t ask him why he dug the grave. “

“That evening, the professor appeared on the stage wearing a short skirt, a scarf and a lampshade. His assistant Emmanuel joined him and took a seat in the chair.

“The professor began sharpening a huge meat cleaver on a stone, then grabbed Emmanuel and began slashing his throat. Blood splattered. The club was in chaos. The limp Emmanuel was carried outside and laid in a grave inside.

“When Sunday came, a large crowd gathered around the tomb. Suddenly, the earth began to move and a hand appeared! I pulled Emanuele out. His hand was warm.

That year, it became clear that Nigerian authorities were outspoken about the musician.

Fela and the band returned to Lagos to rest before embarking on a US tour. Stein gave him large amounts of cash to pay for food and hotel expenses.

Upon arrival in the country, security officials discovered that Fela failed to declare the money that was requested at the time.

He was detained and then appeared before a military court, which sentenced him to five years in prison.

Stan doesn’t think it’s about money. The military saw him as a thorn in their side and wanted to silence him.

But it had the opposite effect. His arrest sparked outrage around the world, Amnesty International declared him a prisoner of conscience, and his music became even more widely known as radio stations dedicated their days to his work.

Fela had recorded a new album, “Arrangement,” before going to jail, and Stein hoped to release it.

Lacking cash, he accepted a deal to remix the tracks with reggae drum and bass to make them more commercially attractive.

“Someone secretly sent a copy to Fela, and Fela was mortified and said hearing it was worse than jail,” Stan said. The remix was never released.

Looking back on their time together, Stein finds it wild and unpredictable, but Fela’s energy, bravery and philosophy inspired him.

“People often say to me: ‘Wow, managing Fela is not easy.’ I would explain that he and I never had any difficulties because we were friends. You can say anything to a true friend, so we never had any problems Have encountered problems.

But in 1997, Fela fell seriously ill.

When Stein learned of his friend’s death, he immediately boarded a plane to Lagos and joined the mourners.

“On August 11, 1997, Fela will be buried in Tafawa Balewa Square.

“The family came to the morgue to collect his body. I brought an electric razor and tried to shave and comb his hair. He put a big wooden stick in his right hand, then put him in a glass coffin and lifted him in a hearse .

“On August 12, he was buried in front of his house in Kalakuta, Ikeja.

“His son Femi played a sad saxophone solo. The drizzle fell like perfume. In those days, no crime occurred in Lagos.

“Moving Music: A Memoir of Ricky Stein” is published by Wordville Press