Song of the Motherland

Back in the days before Spotify and social media, reputations were variously made through word-of-mouth, cassette tapes passed about like contraband, and the absolute certainty, reinforced by repeated listening, that here was a recording with reach and authenticity. Song of the Motherland, the only LP by UK-based Jamaican poet and educator AnkAnum (then called Anum Iyapo) was one such album. Released in 1985, in a decade beset by Thatcherism, sexism and xenophobia, with those who could rocking hard against racism, the LP’s mix of dub-poetry and rhythmic percussion called for unity, respect and a redressing of historical wrongs in ways graceful, swinging and righteous. And, as it turns out, timeless. Newly remastered and reissued digitally and on vinyl via Native Rebel, the recording label founded by AnkAnum’s son, the composer, bandleader and woodwind sensation Shabaka Hutchings – the apple to AnkAnum’s deeply rooted cosmic tree – the acoustic Song of the Motherland sounds as urgent as it ever did. ‘Africa must be free!’ come the shouts on opener ‘Chant Liberation’, its stirring percussion by four members of the Ras Messengers ensemble ritualised, and pathos-filled. ‘I am your future / I water the flower of your past,’ intones AnkAnum on the title-track, an ancient-to-future anthem that resonates. A cloak of mystique continues to surround Hutchings’ paterfamilias, who continues his frontline cultural work. Demand for a tour is growing; listen to understand why.