Various Artists - "Black Stars: Ghana's Hiplife Generation"

Nkasei (feat. Reggie Rockstone) - Adua No Ebu (Out|here 2008)

Various Artists - Black Stars: Ghana's Hiplife Generation / Out|here

My introduction to Ghana was through aircraft livery in the early 90s. Fascinated by air force insignia, I pored over a book in which Mike Spick and Barry Wheeler could offer no more than one paragraph for the nine Aermacchi MB.326F/Ks and two MB.339As that made up the country's collective combat unit. Thankfully, Ghana hasn't (comparatively) been one of the most troubled sub-Saharan African states: a few coups from 1966 to 1981, a suspension of the constitution and political parties, a return to the original vision of Lincoln University alumnus Kwame Nkrumah. Turning the corner of its 51st year, Ghana continues to show signs of both inevitable instability and gainful grassroots optimism which are continuing to make it such a quietly interesting anomaly on the continent.

Naturally, the best we way we see this dichotomy manifesting itself is in the voice of the people's popular culture. For the last 20 years, the musical playing field in particular has been leveled by one word: hiplife. Stylus did an excellent Bluffer's Guide to this in January of last year, but if you missed either that or the recent Fader 52 that also featured a piece on the hybrid of foreign-bred hip-hop and domestically dominated highlife, the short story is that it was borne in the early 90s when young Ghanaians began rapping over both imported beats and beats inspired by imported beats. I'm not going to pretend I know as much Brian Shimkovitz here, so instead I'll turn your attention to the reason you're reading this: Out|here's latest African compilation, Black Stars: Ghana's Hiplife Generation.

The Münich-based label of Africaphiles have turned their attentions to a style that has received more press outside of Africa in the last two years than in the entire history of highlife leading up to that, so their timing could not have been more apt. A much larger audience will be receptive to what Out|here is doing, but a much larger audience also means a greater chance of criticism rather than mere appreciation that the comp exists in the first place. The major one with Black Stars has already been pointed out by the BBC's John Lusk: "It would be nice to hear more of where people come from as opposed to where they're coming from." Meaning, he's hearing a little too much of Jamaica (in Ofori Amponsah's breezy island ragga, "Abelle") or the American South (in the crudely straightforward minimalist bump "Toto Mechanic" by Pidgen Allstars) and not enough of Accra or Osu.

And other than the fact that this album does stretch for 71 solid minutes, that seems reasonable. Who wants to buy a compilation of Ghanaian artists and hear something not intrinsically Ghanaian? The only problem with it is that Lusk has completely missed the point of hiplife in the first place: It's supposed to sound less like trad-Ghanaian tunes and more like post-millennial Ghanaian music for a new, more worldly set. Hiplife is the loophole in African authenticity. Ripping off elements of Afro-Cuban jazz or crunk or dub is what made hiplife, well, hip in the first place.

There are some identifiably "traditional" elements in each of these songs, but some are easier to spot than others. King Ayisoba opens the compilation with the rallying call "Modern Ghanaians," founded on the melody of a kologo (which is nearly impossible to find information on, except via Ayisoba himself), and of course there are the native tongues that litter many of these tracks (though English is the official tongue in schools, some 10 other languages exist). The beautiful low-buzzing synth that hovers outside the hut of Tinny's Ga-spoken "Aletse Ogboo" is an obvious hit, to provide a late album example.

The mid-tempo gallop of Nkasei's "Adua No Ebu" (featuring hiplife godfather Reggie Rockstone) is probably my favorite, a quick Gil Scott-Heron shoutout and poor-quality gunshots M.I.A. would laugh at driving one of the most fiery songs on the record. It's a fascinating split between the incendiary social commentary and the laid-back, playful music that drives the beat for the better part of six minutes. It's also Ghana in a nutshell: The distant clamor of violence as everything in the immediate vicinity holds itself together consistently is as much a metaphor for the nation as it is a literal description of the song.

If "international recognition of Hiplife is long overdue" as Out|here claims, then Black Stars is generous compensation for so many lost years. An array of artists big and small utilizing a multitude of languages on a number of topics is part of the rich history of hiplife that is only just now being unearthed by outsiders. The pleasure of hearing modern Ghana in music provides a beacon of hope that at least one sliver of sub-Saharan Africa can sort out its troubles without a new squad of Aermacchis when John Kufuor steps down in December.