Life With Fela Kuti On History’s Most Dangerous Tour
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When I published my memoir, dozens of new paternal connections emerged, including Chi’cas Reid, a vocalist in my father’s band, Roy Ayers Ubiquity from 1975 to 1979, the female voice you hear on the song “Everybody Loves the Sunshine,” and Henry Root, Roy’s road manager during the same period. Imagine my surprise when I learned that when I, as a seven-year-old, saw Roy perform at U-Mass Amherst with The Grateful Dead and Patti Smith, both Henry and Chi’cas were there in the same stadium.
Over meals in Durham, North Carolina and Los Angeles, Chi’cas and Henry gave me separate, unbelievable personal accounts of Roy’s 1979 tour of Nigeria opening for Fela Kuti, during which I detached myself as the son of the bandleader and reverted to a musician obsessed with captivating tales from the road. I’ve lived through and heard a lot of outrageous and scary tour stories, but these were levels beyond anything I could ever imagine.
After hearing both versions of the story—Henry’s leaned triumphant, while Chi’cas’ was more traumatic—I asked if they’d be interested in going on the record in a Zoom meeting. They both agreed, and Chi’cas suggested that Bernard also join. Bernard who? I asked, only to learn that Bernard Purdie, the legendary drummer who has performed with everyone from Aretha Franklin to Steely Dan, happened to play drums in Roy’s band on the Nigerian tour.
Our Zoom session was a dynamic blend of energy and nostalgia. Chi’cas, now 73, exuded vivacity with a bold voice and a buzzed-down Afro. Henry, 71, with his flowing gray hair and meticulous attention to detail, anchored the conversation. Bernard, 84, arrived late and as much as I wanted to crack a drummer joke, I opted to avoid disrespecting the most recorded drummer of all time.
Eager to capture the essence of their story, I transcribed our ninety-minute conversation and crafted it into an oral history, preserving each anecdote in the order it was shared. Despite my initial confidence, the story was met with skepticism from editors at the outlets I pitched—deemed "too niche" by many. But a resounding response from an editor at The Guardian, conveyed in bold, caps-lock letters, assured me that I had indeed unearthed something truly remarkable.
Just when it seemed our tale might lack visual documentation, Henry came through with a treasure trove of stunning photographs, courtesy of Lou Carnevale, another American who had been part of the tour. More photos are in the Guardian piece, and I’ll share more at a later date.
As I prepare to share this lost piece of history with the world through The Guardian, I invite you to join me in spreading the word. This is more than just a story—it’s a captivating journey that demands to be heard.
Last week, my uncle, Alan Braufman and I took over the airwaves on London’s NTS Radio for an hour to play some records and talk about Alan’s forthcoming new album, Infinite Love Infinite Tears. You can listen to our show here. New Yorkers: Alan recently announced a live show at Brooklyn’s National Sawdust on June 7.
My memoir is called My Life in the Sunshine. You can order it here, or listen to the audiobook on Spotify.
I hope to see you somewhere soon. Upcoming events are always listed here, and stay tuned for a big 2024 project.
Nabil Ayers / Brooklyn
Sadly, these events seem fairly common throughout Fela's career. These memories are mentioned in Carlos Moore's Authorized Biography of Fela, 'This Bitch of a Life.' Several of his wives also hint at the chaos and violence surrounding his live performances and the compound. Sandra Akanke Isidore who had a huge influence on Fela and who appears on the album, 'Upside Down,' also talks about the danger that surrounded Fela when she first went to Nigeria.
It speaks volumes of the power of art that a government can feel so threatened they are compelled to censor, ban, silence, erase and even attempt to kill the artist.
The Guardian piece is wild and terrifying and exciting—can see how it was viewed differently by those recalling it. This doesn't read that much differently than what I've read about chaos agents like Butthole Surfers—pure anarchy swirling around them (or Fela).