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Vocal, instrumental and dance performer in Congolese rumba From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
In the sebene instrumental section of a Congolese rumba song, the atalaku serves as the band's frontman, responsible for actively engaging the audience, building excitement, and augmenting the performance with spirited vocalizations and rhythmic chants.[1] Atalaku often uses fast-paced speech, onomatopoeic sounds, and playful wordplay to captivate listeners and sustain their energy throughout the performance.[2][3][4][5]
The atalaku rarely appears in music videos, and despite his widely recognized "song", he is not classified as a singer.[2][1] Although he performs alongside prominent figures in the music industry, he is often overshadowed by his fellow band members. Criticism for his ostentatious stage presence and the perceived distortion of the nostalgic sentimentality of traditional Congolese rumba is common; nonetheless, he has emerged as an integral component of every Congolese dance sequence.[2][1]
According to social anthropology professor Bob W. White of the University of Montreal, the term atalaku derives from the Kikongo expression for "look here, look at me" and first appeared in common parlance in Kinshasa in the early 1980s.[2] The atalaku is also known by the French term animateur.[2]
During the sebene instrumental section of a song, the atalaku excels in vocal improvisation through a combination of shouts, melodies, and vocal pyrotechnics to excite the audience and prompt them to dance.[2][1] Following the last lines of the chorus, the lead singer steps back, allowing the lead guitarist to initiate the sebene with an accelerated riff.[2] The atalaku then takes center stage, wielding a microphone and often maracas (a type of rattle), to deliver a series of cris (shouts) and chants-cris (sung-shouts).[2] They incorporate the names of singers, guitarists, and even audience members who have offered financial support, weaving these references into their shouts. This interactive element boosts the performers' morale and also personalizes the experience for the audience. These vocal elements are meticulously timed to synchronize with the fast-paced guitar and drum rhythms, which drive both the musicians and the audience into a dancing frenzy.[2]
Beyond their vocal talents, the atalaku is also an instrumentalist and dancer. They play the spray can shaker, which amplifies the percussive rhythm of the snare drum.[2] Their dynamic performance style often sees them joining the choreographed dance formations on stage, sometimes leading the front dance line or performing alongside female dancers.[2] This diverse role requires incredible stamina, as the atalaku must maintain high energy levels throughout prolonged sebene, which can extend for several hours.[2]
While the atalaku is often perceived as calling the dance steps and shouts, their actual control over these elements is limited. The succession of dance steps is influenced by various factors, making the atalaku's role during the sebene appear more prominent than it is.[2] However, during extended dance solos, particularly those showcasing female dancers, the atalaku has greater freedom to choose their shouts. In these moments, they use suggestive language to frame the dancers' performances, mediating between social categories and reinforcing the dancers' roles as objects of male desire.[2]
The atalaku's shouts are often delivered in coded language, drawing from obscure expressions in local dialects such as Kikongo or Kiumbu, as well as urban slang.[2] This arcane language introduces an element of intrigue to their performance, with the audience occasionally dancing to phrases they do not entirely comprehend.[2] However, the atalaku's metaphoric and often lewd language is generally transparent to the audience, who are "in on the joke."[2]
The atalaku's relationship with authority is complex, as they rely on sponsors for their livelihood. While they do not overtly oppose or resist authority, they use flattery and performance to gain the favor of the powerful, often luring money from wealthy patrons.[2] Despite their role in modern dance music, the atalaku remains closely tied to traditional musical styles, drawing inspiration from funeral ceremonies (matanga) and other events.[2] This practice, known as "dipping" (puiser), involves adapting traditional phrases, proverbs, or rhythms for use in contemporary performances.[2]
According to Bob W. White, although vocal shouts have traditionally been a facet of Congolese popular music, it was only with the advent of the atalaku that they were utilized more systematically.[6] Before the atalaku, musicians often shouted out the names of their bandmates or announced new dances. This practice was generally more impromptu and less structured than the atalaku role that would later emerge.[6]
The atalaku's origins are significantly embedded in African ceremonial performance customs. In these traditional contexts, chants and vocalizations were used to enhance ceremonial experiences.[2][6] However, the atalaku as a specific role in popular music only crystallized with the advent of the Congolese rumba's evolution in the 20th century.[2][6]
The emergence of the atalaku is closely linked to the political and cultural dynamics of the Mobutu Sese Seko era in Zaire during the 1970s and 1980s.[2] Under Mobutu's regime, the government utilized traditional music, dance, and theater to rally support for its political propaganda of the one-party state and its official state ideology of Authenticité, which underscored the promotion of "traditional" elements to bolster the regime's image.[2] Modeled after the animateurs of political rallies, who employed performance to elicit support for the regime, the atalaku's role evolved into a systematic methodology for enlivening the audience and creating a memorable live experience.[2]
In the early 1970s, numerous emerging music bands, recognizing the audience's preference for performative dance sequences, began extending the sebene—the instrumental and dance-intensive segment of a song—to the conclusion of tracks.[2] Franco Luambo notably popularized this practice, employing a thumb-and-forefinger picking technique that created the auditory illusion of dual guitar lines.[7] This change allowed for a greater focus on dance and performance. Kintambo emerged as a crucible for modernized folklore and is frequently cited as the "cradle" of urban traditional music and the "birthplace" of the atalaku.[2] Under the supervision of Kumaye, a Kintambo-based businessman and local community figure, Bana Odeon was one of the first neighborhood folklore bands to manage an administrative office and staff for its operations.[2] Drawing inspiration from the elder (predominantly Baumbu) musicians of Kintambo, Kumaye and his collaborators recruited a substantial number of unemployed local youth and trained them in traditional dance and music.[2] In 1978, Bana Odeon's music section began performing in local taverns, captivating "modern" music aficionados with folklore-inspired dance routines and vocal exhortations.[2] By 1980, they were honored as the Best New Group of the Year (Révélation de l'Année) and, in the same year, received accolades for the Best Dance of the Year for "zekete".[2] In 1982, members of Bana Odeon, Bébé Atalaku, Nono Monzuluku and Djerba Mandjeku, joined Zaïko Langa Langa, infusing the band's sound with folkloric chants and dance moves.[2] The shout "Atalaku! Tala! Atalaku mama! Zekete! Zebola ka zebola, Zebola danse!" gave a name to the new role and style.[2] Before 1982, chants were typically performed by the singers of a conventional Congolese youth band during sebene sections.
Resistance from some purists emerged, with criticisms suggesting that the infusion of folklore into modern Congolese rumba diluted the genre's authenticity, and some detractors claimed Zaïko Langa Langa had overstepped and was deserving of derision in the capital.[2] Conversely, younger enthusiasts perceived the advent of the atalaku as a challenge to the dominance of the musical "elders."[2] Zaïko Langa Langa's record sales and concert attendance surged, becoming a defining element of their performances.[2] Many music groups began following Zaïko Langa Langa's example, and the atalaku rapidly became an indispensable component of every self-respecting band in Kinshasa and later Brazzaville. Some bands maintain as many as five atalaku concurrently.[2]
Bob W. White notes that since the early 1980s, shouts have evolved from being merely shouted [audio] to being both shouted and sung, to being completely sung [audio], finally culminating in the practice of some lead singers (Koffi Olomide, Général Defao, J. P. Busé) to croon shouts with "care" (atalaku ya soin) or "charm" (atalaku ya charme).[2] Since the late 1990s, Kinshasa has witnessed at least two innovations in this area: a wave of junior atalakus (one of whom was eleven years old) and a series of shouts that appeared in languages other than Lingala and Kikongo, especially Tshiluba.[2]
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