At large outdoor music festivals, Ricardo Lemvo rarely explains the story behind his Congolese songs, a repertoire of music driven by infectious Afro-Cuban rhythms.
He sings in Spanish, French, Portuguese, Lingala and Kikongo, the latter two languages of the Republic of the Congo, where Lemvo was born. Sometimes, the vocalist mixes things up by singing a verse in Lingala and the chorus in Spanish. Few know what he's saying, and those familiar with his music just want to dance.
“If we play in a big hall with a sit-down captive audience, I'll introduce the piece and explain it,” said Lemvo, who performs tomorrow in Poinsettia Park as part of the TGIF Jazz in the Parks Concert Series.
“But when we play at a big festival, and people are just there to have fun, I don't want to bore them will all that talk. I give them a good beat and they respond.”
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Ricardo Lemvo & Makina Loca
When: 6 p.m. tomorrow
Where: Poinsettia Park, 6600 Hidden Valley Road, Carlsbad
Tickets: Free
Phone: (760) 434-2904
Online: carlsbadca.gov/arts
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Lemvo moved to Los Angeles with his family in 1972 and became an American citizen in 1985. He earned a B.A. degree in political science from California State University Los Angeles and planned on studying law before committing to a career in music. Backed by a multiethnic nine-piece band, Lemvo blends genres to form his distinctive sound.
“Congolese musicians in particular, going back to the 1930s, were incorporating elements of Cuban music into their indigenous African music, thereby creating what is now known as 'conga rumba,' ” said Lemvo, who rolls his R's and speaks with a mesmerizing melodic accent. “When you listen to conga rumba, you may think you are listening to son, you see.
“The only difference is the Congolese were singing in Lingala instead of Spanish and they used electric guitars rather than piano. What I do is slightly different than the pioneers of Congolese music. I use piano, electric guitar, trap drums and congas – all the elements of both Congolese and Cuban music.”
It's a mix that produces the sort of steamy, sweat-producing rhythms that inspire dancers to swivel their hips spontaneously.
One such number, “Mambo Yo Yo,” a Cuban-style son montuno released on Putumayo a decade ago, put Lemvo on the map with its move-your-feet beat and call-and-response lyrics. He has toured aggressively since then, performing at many prestigious music festivals and releasing a total of five critically acclaimed albums.
But one should try to become familiar with the linguistically lovely lyrics of this music, as they often tell an intriguing folk tale.
There is the ballad “São Salvador,” sung in Kikongo and Portuguese. It's a tribute to Dona Beatriz Kimpa Vita, a young Kongolese woman who was burned at the stake in 1706 for her religious beliefs.
Then there is the sultry cut from Lemvo's most recent release, “Isabela,” an album named after his 2-year-old daughter. It's a Turkish tune that captures Lemvo's upbeat outlook as much as his genre-blending instrumentation. Turkish is not a language Lemvo speaks, but he said he was so smitten by the song that he had to cover it.
“The original was pop style and a fast tempo,” said Lemvo. “So I slowed it down and gave it my own cachet with a tango bass line. My old booking agent happened to be from Turkey and she translated and coached me. 'Elbette' literally means 'but of course.' ” If the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening,
If the deepest wound can be healed, why must we fear life?
But of course (elbette) I will cry.” But of course (elbette) I will laugh.
The message of the song is about hope,” Lemvo said.
No matter how bleak things may look, there is a bright tomorrow.
Marcia Manna covers arts and entertainment in North County for the Union-Tribune.
