Between War, Politics, and “Something Nice Back Home”: Uncovering the First Mozambican Experiences within the “World Music” Market (1987–1994)

Abstract

This article analyzes the internationalization of Mozambican music within the “World Music” market during the country’s transitional period from a single-party socialist-led system to a multiparty, liberal one (1987–1994) in relation to the country’s nation-building process. The comparative examination of three cases—Orchestra Marrabenta Star de Moçambique, the song “Baila Maria” by Grupo RM (Amoya), and Real World Records’ albums by Eyuphuro and Ghorwane—shows that the “World Music” market not only served as an escape valve from the country’s lethargic phonographic industry but also emerged as a privileged channel to promote Mozambique’s official musical policy abroad during a crucial civil war-torn period.

Prelude: From Mozambique to the World

The southeastern African country of the People’s Republic of Mozambique achieved its independence from Portugal on 25 June 1975, after a ten-year liberation war that opposed the Portuguese authorities to the Mozambique Liberation Front (FRELIMO). ¹ Under the presidency of Samora Machel (1933–1986), the new FRELIMO government established a single-party state based on Marxist-Leninist principles, including diplomatic support from socialist countries. Two years after independence, the country was troubled by a civil war (1977–1992) between FRELIMO’s single-party government and a militarized movement—the Mozambican National Resistance (RENAMO)—which was deemed anticommunist and connected to the Rhodesian and South African apartheid regimes. During this period, a fateful plane crash caused the death of President Machel in October 1986, who was immediately replaced by former Minister of Foreign Affairs Joaquim Alberto Chissano (1939–). The new president’s cultural and economic policy coincided with the application of the Economic Restructuring Program in January 1987, under the auspices of the International Monetary Fund (IMF). Simultaneously, the country underwent a series of transformations that ultimately led to a peace agreement (1992) and the implementation of a multiparty and capitalist-style regime (1994) (Rocca 2012). ² Throughout this period, musicians and cultural agents actively sought to contribute to the ongoing transformations through various processes, which I will discuss in the following text.

In other publications, I have extensively examined many topics related to Mozambique’s vibrant musical history, with a particular focus on Samora Machel’s presidency (1975–1986). These topics include an analysis of choral singing and traditional music (Freitas and Carvalho 2022), the significance and structure of radio broadcasting before and after independence (Freitas 2021, 2022a), the editorial and production practices of the phonographic industry (Freitas 2023a), the musician’s social status in socialist Mozambique (Freitas 2023b), and even some alternative political initiatives that were never realized (Freitas 2022b). This article, however, focuses on the first experiences to promote and sell Mozambican music abroad during President Chissano’s transitional period from a single to a multiparty system (1987–1994), taking advantage of the interest spawned by the then recently created “World Music” category. My main argument is that producers, musicians, and political representatives initially used the World Music market as an escape valve from the country’s lethargic situation. Simultaneously, it served as a favored channel to promote the official sonorous and musical policy for Mozambique during a decisive transitional period, before shifting to a more neoliberal era in which the country’s troubles could be openly discussed on the world stage through music. This endeavour follows my PhD research in ethnomusicology on the “sonorous construction of Mozambique” after independence, considering three analytical axes: cultural policy, radio broadcasting, and music industries. Using “ethnography of the past” as my primary methodological strategy (Bohlman 1996; McCollum and David 2014), drawing on archival work, analysis of press articles, and interviews with twenty-five key agents, including musicians, radio personnel, phonographic producers, show businessmen, and political representatives, I aimed to reconstruct the media policy and music activity during Mozambique’s socialist period (1974–1994). ³

World Music can be understood as synonymous with “musical diversity,” referring, in this sense, to all music from around the globe (Nettl 2010:33–53). However, in this article, World Music reports to the market category coined in 1987 in London after a series of meetings among representatives from eleven independent record companies (Cottrell 2010:16). The objective was clear: to promote music from the world, generally referring to music from beyond North America and Western Europe (but sometimes including folk music from these countries as well), to be marketed throughout the world. Phillip Bohlman further adds that this “World music” spawned from the music specialists’ determination that “popular music from outside the Anglo-American and European mainstreams needed a distinctive name” (Bohlman 2002:22).

Since the late 1980s, this category has been at the core of many ethnomusicological studies, with leading research trends notably reviewed by Martin Stokes in his 2004 pivotal article “Music and the Global Order,” (Stokes 2004) where he identifies two prevailing perspectives: Veit Erlmann’s “pessimistic Marxian critique,” on the one hand (1996, 1999), and Mark Slobin’s “optimistic radical liberalism,” on the other (1992). In truth, as rightfully acknowledged by Stokes, this duality is overtly exaggerated, more so since many different perspectives coexisted, with some authors concentrating on notions such as “cultural imperialism” (Malm 1993), while others refused the “Western dominance” altogether, justifying their viewpoint with the broad influence of non-Western companies such as Japan-based Sony Corporation (Garofalo 1993). Furthermore, whilst some authors focused on a bottom-up perspective by considering local musicians’ and audiences’ perceptions (Guilbault 1993), others aimed at understanding how music industries’ personnel conceptualized “otherness” while negotiating “the dynamics of representational and interpretative distortion across the Schizophonic gap” (Whitmore 2016:330).

Speaking of “Schizophonic,” one of the most interesting efforts in understanding the discourses on “World Music” and “World Beat” ⁴ was developed by ethnomusicologist Steven Feld (1994) through the juxtaposition of Murray Schafer’s “Schizophonia” and Gregory Bateson’s “Schizogenesis.” ⁵ Following an in-depth discursive analysis of both concepts, Feld notes that “World Music” was often described as “true,” “traditional,” “real,” and “authentic,” while “World Beat” was considered as “syncretic,” “hybrid,” “mixed,” and “creole.” These dichotomies, which oppose values such as authenticity-artificiality, serious-trivial, and true-false, are still very common in discourses produced by academics, journalists, performers, and consumers, though one must acknowledge that they primarily represent a “westernizing view of the world.” ⁶ Consequently, the juxtaposition of the two schi- words epitomizes the institutional complexity and the plurality of meanings related to the “World Music” phenomenon. Indeed, as Hutnyk argues, its study should consider, among other issues, the relationship between different commercial models within the music industries, the role of specific individuals and companies (Western or not), the articulation of notions of authenticity and tradition, the dynamics of international politics and market relations, as well as the technology available in each country (Hutnyk 1998: 405–406).

While this article takes these research trends into account, I do not frame it as within any particular model for the study of “World Music,” aiming instead to analyze three internationalization ⁷ cases derived from a single (and understudied) country—Mozambique—during the eight-year transitional period from a single-party communist-led system to a multiparty and liberal one (1987–1994), while considering a nation-building background engulfed by successive wars. The first case focuses on Orchestra Marrabenta Star de Moçambique, formed in 1987 to promote Mozambican music abroad, particularly the genre Marrabenta. The second case concerns a detailed analysis of two versions of the song “Baila Maria” performed by Grupo RM, ⁸ the national radio orchestra, which won Radio France Internationale’s Grand Prix Découvertes 90. Finally, the third refers to albums by Mozambican Groups Eyuphuro (1990) and Ghorwane (1993) published by Real World Records. By examining these cases, we will observe that the “World Music” category served as a propaganda tool to inform the international community on the cultural, economic, and institutional reforms that were taking place during those eight transitional years. This ranged from the initial FRELIMO-led narrative aimed at diverting international attention from the war in the former two cases, to the subsequent inevitable openness regarding the failure of the socialist experience, as particularly evident in the early nineties “Real World” albums.

This article can also be contextualized within the broader framework of nation-building and postcolonial studies in Africa. Many ethnomusicologists have already delved into this subject, including Waterman on Nigeria (1990), Carvalho on Mozambique (1997), Turino on Zimbabwe (2000), Askew on Tanzania (2002), and Meintjes on South Africa (2003), to name a few. Collectively, these studies confirm the existence of a general ethnomusicological tenet: Regardless of the country or historical periodization under examination, they demonstrate that more than reflecting nationalist ideals, expressive behavior (including music and dance) played a pivotal role in producing national beliefs and in managing expectations on cultural, political, and economic sovereignty. Phillip Bohlman’s distinction between “national music” (intended for fostering internal coherence within a nation) and “nationalist music” (implemented with the purpose of international exhibition) (Bohlman 2011:59) holds particular relevance to the Mozambican case, as distinct musical expressions and lyrical themes were employed for domestic and international promotion of the country. Consequently, early attempts to commercialize Mozambican music within the “World Music” market falls within Bohlman’s concept of “nationalist music,” as they were fundamentally tailored for international audiences.

Looking for an Alternative: Orchestra Marrabenta Star de Moçambique (1987)

The radio orchestra [Grupo RM] has no interest in publishing an album here [Mozambique]. Since there are no copyright laws, our compositions would fall into public domain, our songs would be exposed to possible international plagiarism, and we would be harmed in terms of ownership and artistic representation…. If we were only interested in money, all we had to do was to sell our repertoire to anyone who wanted to reproduce it internationally. ⁹ (Zeca Tcheco, Tempo, 25 February 1990) ¹⁰

This quote published in Tempo magazine in February 1990 of Zeca Tcheco, Radio Moçambique’s orchestra drummer (Grupo RM), clearly states that there were no advantages in publishing phonograms in Mozambique. In fact, the phonographic industry was engulfed in a deep crisis further aggravated by the civil war. In another publication, I have identified six factors that contributed to the industry’s lethargic situation: first, given the socialist matrix adopted, the idea of “commercializing” music was highly devaluated or even criticized; second, the limited resources, such as production machines, studio material, and turntables, meant that the industry could not sustain the demand-supply relationship; third, the lack of qualified technicians conditioned the quality of recordings and pressings; fourth, the imposition of an authoritarian cultural policy, especially during the first ten years after independence, constrained musicians’ creative processes; fifth, the deprioritization of disc production led to a shortage of PVC (vinyl) in the country; and sixth, the lack of copyright legislation benefited producers at the expense of musicians (Freitas 2023a).

Therefore, in the latter half of the 1980s, very few artists were motivated to publish discs in Mozambique, instead seeking out alternative markets, especially in response to the growing interest in what was subsequently called “World Music.” For instance, Paul Simon’s “Graceland” (1986) had a major impact on Mozambican producers and artists as an example of a seemingly profitable collaboration between North American and South African musicians, while opening the door to the promotion of local genres such as Isicathamiya and Mbaqanga. ¹¹ It was within this framework that the first Mozambican experience related to the “World Music” market came into fruition: Orchestra Marrabenta Star de Moçambique (OMSM).

Launched in 1987 by “Movimento—Empresa de Entretenimento de Moçambique,” a private company founded by businessman Aurélio Le Bon, who had close ties to the government and a profound commitment toward FRELIMO’s cultural policy, ¹² OMSM brought together musicians from the National Radio Orchestra (Grupo RM) and performers and dancers from local nightclubs. ¹³ The objective was to promote Mozambican music abroad while revitalizing the genre Marrabenta after the general discredit it underwent during the first ten years after independence.

To facilitate a better understanding of the issue at hand, I will now provide a brief overview of this category: Marrabenta is an expressive mode, a popular music category, and a choreographic style developed mainly in the southern provinces of Mozambique—Maputo, Gaza, and Inhambane. Current narratives associate the term with an act done in excess—“until it breaks”—for example, dancing until you break or playing until the guitar strings break (Laranjeira 2014:44–45). The record Marrabenta by Grupo Djambo, published by the Portuguese Alvorada label (Rádio Triunfo, c. 1970), marked the consolidation of this repertoire as a music category, which was then promoted by the colonial regime as “folklore” of Portuguese overseas provinces. After independence, FRELIMO sought to project a cultural model based on rural music at the expense of popular urban music, thus associating Marrabenta with the decadent bourgeois class and the moral and sexual corruption related to colonialism. As a consequence, Marrabenta suffered a massive setback after independence, with experts referring to this period (1975–1986) as marked by a “generalized disqualification.” The resurgence of this category only happened in 1987 with the creation of Orchestra Marrabenta Star de Moçambique, the first “World Music” case analyzed in this article. Aurélio Le Bon recalled the development process in an interview:

I formed Orchestra Marrabenta Moçambique, and I am very proud of it. The group had Wazimbo on vocals and Stewart Sukuma on percussion, two of the greatest Mozambican singers and songwriters today. I called Mingas, who worked in a nightclub, to sing with us.… Then I said: “You have to learn these songs quickly because in thirty days we’ll be on the plane, we are going to Europe, we are going to France.” No one imagined that it was possible for a group of that scale—with brass, percussion, singers, and dancers—to work together in such a short period. ¹⁴

The group performed for the first time in Maputo in front of a selected audience before embarking on its inaugural European tour. It was generally well received by Mozambican critics, especially regarding its instrumental and vocal style, while the visual and scenic features were widely criticized, specifically the dance moves. ¹⁵ João Domingos, a well-known Marrabenta musician, agreed that in musical terms “the group corresponds to what is intended as Mozambican music based on Marrabenta.” However, he also stated that the group reproduced the late colonial “performative flaws” prevalent in nightclubs and cabarets, where prostitutes danced Marrabenta for their potential clients. Therefore, according to Domingos, OMSM dancers’ bodily display “distorted the cultural value of Marrabenta,” further adding that “our music does not need exoticisms.” ¹⁶

This reaction can also be explained by Marrabenta’s disqualification by FRELIMO cultural agents after independence, mainly because of its instrumentalization by colonial authorities as part of the “Portuguese Overseas Folklore” and because of its strong association with bohemian costumes that, in turn, collided with FRELIMO’s moralistic values. As such, by bringing back the dance moves that were censored during the first years after independence, OMSM’s modifications to Marrabenta can be read as the first symptom of an alleged cultural opening and a return to a “folklorized” version of the genre as it was known before independence. In fact, according to Mozambican historian Rui Laranjeira, OMSM contributed to “the first resurgence” of Marrabenta in 1987 after its widespread discredit during Machel’s leadership (Laranjeira 2014).

In 1988, the group recorded two albums at Shed Studios in Harare (Zimbabwe), which were then mixed at Aosis Studios in London—“Independance” (1988) and the posthumously released “Piquenique” (1996). Both discs were distributed by Aurélio Le Bon’s label “Mapiko Discovideo”/“Piranha” and were catalogued as “World Music/Mozambique.” When I asked Mingas why they decided to record in Zimbabwe and not at Rádio Moçambique studios in Maputo, the answer was clear:

Because Mozambique was no longer producing LPs at the time. We could have recorded here [Maputo] and then sent the magnetic tape abroad, but I think those who oversaw it, Le Bon himself, must have preferred us to go to Harare because there the technology was more advanced than in Mozambique. For instance, they already had 24-track mixing consoles, which was a huge improvement over what we had here (8-track). ¹⁷

Although the group’s main objective was to promote Mozambican music, it is noteworthy that their two albums were never released in the country, a situation that can be justified, as previously mentioned, by the music industry’s lethargic state during the second half of the 1980s. However, even if producers had found legal means to publish the album in Mozambique, the absence of copyright laws made this project commercially unviable in its homeland. For that reason, and according to Aurélio Le Bon, the group, the artists, and their songs were registered in an Author’s Society in the Federal Republic of Germany. In the end, the first disc was published only in Europe and, exceptionally, in Zimbabwe (in this latter case through Gramma Records label, Warner Bros). ¹⁸ Consequently, Mozambicans would only have access to this repertoire through radio broadcasting and an audio-visual recording produced by TVE. ¹⁹

Lyrically, the first album delves into a wide range of themes: songs about love (“Alizandro”), marital issues (“Nwahulwana,” “Sapateiro,” “Tsiketa Kuni Barassara”), and festive themes (“Elisa Gomara Saia,” “Marozana,” “Parabéns”), which were a great novelty when compared to other Mozambican LPs published in the previous ten years. As such, the absence of political references and the insistence on festivity at a time when Mozambique was internationally acknowledged as one of the world’s poorest countries were striking, more so because the albums and singles published domestically through the NGOMA label ²⁰ presented an overall different tone and lyrical content. For instance, while some songs praised FRELIMO’s role in building the nation, others focused on pressing social issues such as home abandonment, delinquency, and disinterest in school, elevating them to a didactic and teleological nation-building cause (Freitas 2023a). Mingas, one of the group’s singers and dancers, affirmed that the shift in lyrical content within OMSM was a deliberate part of a broader strategy aimed at showcasing a distinct facet of Mozambique to an international audience:

We wanted to promote Marrabenta as a happy genre and bring out a more cultural and positive side of Mozambique … we wanted to promote something nice back home. At that period, everything revolved around the war.… So when we debuted, those who saw us were amazed because the image they had of Mozambique boiled down to war and suffering. In truth, we were all depressed. So Marrabenta Orchestra not only changed how people looked at Mozambique—at least we tried to convey another idea of the country—but also helped to bring some encouragement back home. It was like: “my god, this is so beautiful! Even after all this suffering, we can still make such beautiful things.” ²¹

The album’s liner notes tie Marrabenta to Mozambique’s independence, an idea highlighted by Samora Machel’s famous slogan, “The struggle continues,” printed on the cover (Figure 1). Numerous influences are also mentioned, presenting this Marrabenta as the confluence of the “Majika” rural rhythm, which was then taken to the urban area where it was mixed with soul music, Portuguese and Mediterranean ballads, Congolese guitar riffs, Brazilian percussion, and Cuban brass riffs.

Figure 1. The cover of the first album by Orchestra Marrabenta Star de Mozambique titled “Independance” including President Machel’s famous slogan “The struggle continues!”

Contrary to what happened to most international “World Music” products from that period, the conception and discourse around OMSM and Marrabenta were not fabricated and controlled by foreign producers but by Mozambican entrepreneurs. Aurélio Le Bon was the one who decided how to sell this group abroad, including its sounds, overall presentation, and the story behind the genres they performed. Perhaps that’s why the group chose not to be marketed as an “authentic product,” as was the prevailing discourse on “World Music” repertoires, focusing instead on an idea of creolization and a mixture of influences (as clarified in the album’s liner notes), and thus promoting Marrabenta as a cosmopolitan genre. Furthermore, while embracing these creole features, the group was also promoting a new “sonorous policy” for Mozambique, far away from the favored “traditional music” practices sponsored during Machel’s time in office (1975–1986). ²² Hence, this project represented a strategic tone shift that was accepted and fostered by the new Chissano government, which, given its vertical and centralized structure, had to directly approve (through the Ministry of Information) for Grupo RM musicians to integrate OMSM. As such, one can argue that FRELIMO took advantage of this first “World Music” experience to promote a different image—a happy and festive one—of Mozambique that contradicted the warfare situation that engulfed the country. After several performances in Europe ²³ and Mozambique ²⁴ and a second tour in 1988 through Portugal, Cape Verde, Denmark, the Netherlands, and England, Grupo RM members left OMSM in mid-1989 following disagreements between musicians and entrepreneurs, ²⁵ and the group would eventually split two years later. ²⁶

A Tale of One Song with Two Versions: “Baila Maria” by Grupo RM (Amoya) (1990)

When a group wins the Grand Prix Découvertes, their members are entitled to the monetary prize they deserve and the right to record an “LP.” These “things” are paid for by them [producers and publishers], including all the trips that the group has to take. There should be no inconvenience. We must go [to Guinea-Conakry]. Chico António, Tempo, 21 October 1990 ²⁷

After parting ways with OMSM, Grupo RM returned to its regular work in Maputo, incorporating many of the orchestra’s dissident musicians, including Mingas, who became the first woman to officially belong to the group, and Chico António, who took on the group’s artistic direction and leadership. In 1990, António and Mingas composed the song “Baila Maria,” which became the group’s biggest hit both in Mozambique and abroad after winning the Grand Prix Découvertes 90 promoted by Radio France Internationale, whose award ceremony took place in Guinea-Conakry (Figure 2). ²⁸

Figure 2. Grupo RM line-up in 1990. From left to right: Sox (lead guitar), Mingas (vocals), Paíto (bass guitar), Zeca Tcheco (drums), Matchote (saxophone), Chico António (trumpet and vocals), and Virgilio Soquiço (rhythm guitar).

“Baila Maria” has many unusual features, especially when compared to other Mozambican songs from that period. At the first hearing, the major difference concerns its long length—clocking in at eight minutes—and the use of rhythms inspired by Tufo ²⁹ and Mapiko, ³⁰ traditional dances from the Northern provinces of Nampula and Cabo Delgado, respectively. Two versions of the song exist: the “original,” recorded on Rádio Moçambique in Maputo, and the version recorded in France as part of the competition prize. In the following section, I will present a detailed musicological analysis of the original, henceforth the “Grupo RM” version, followed by a comparison with the French recording, henceforth the “Amoya” version, the name with which the group was marketed abroad. By the end of this section, I will confront both versions with Feld’s “Schizophonia/Schizmogenesis” in relation to the discourses around “World Music” and “World Beat.”

Although this song can be divided into three large sections, this tripartite structure does not obey any preestablished format such as verse-chorus, as “Baila Maria” almost seems like a combination of three different pieces, which gives it an episodic and grandiloquent character. In the words of Chico António, it represents a journey:

I listened to Fela Kuti’s very long tracks, sometimes way over 20 minutes…. For me, it feels like a road trip. When you ride through Maputo, the images and sounds are in constant motion, and nothing stays the same. That was my inspiration for the song. ³¹

The track opens with an arpeggio on the guitar, including the notes A D# G B, with a rhythm inspired by “sea sounds and Tufo’s dance,” as confirmed by Chico António. ³² Then appears the first melodic motif, characterized by small slides and legatos on the electric guitar (music example 1). ³³

Music example 1. Motif played in the introductory section on the electric guitar.

Afterward, the bass guitar comes in, alternating between the notes A and E from 00m:35s onward. It is between these notes that we find the second surprise of this track, as it does not follow a tonal harmony but rather a modal organization through the absence of “leading tones” (D# and G#, respectively). Chico António confirmed that the musicians with whom he usually plays also have the same uncertainty: “some say the song is in A, others say it is in E,” nonetheless, the author assured me that he did not necessarily think of any specific key—he composed and played it as he felt that it “sounded good.” ³⁴

Section A begins at the 35-second mark with the drums setting up the main rhythm, followed by a verse alternation in the southern Xichangana language sung by Chico António and Mingas. The lyrics resort to a love declaration—or “engate” [seduction], in the words of Chico António—between a man and a woman named Maria. The man (Chico António) says that he seeks to “stabilize” and “rest” beside her; she (Mingas), in turn, replies affirmatively to her suitor’s request, saying that she envisions a promising future for both. The verses alternate with a central theme (musical example 2), the lyrics of which can roughly be translated as “open your heart, everything will be OK.” The alternation between two interlocutors—in direct speech—was a novelty in the Mozambican musical scene, especially because duets between a man and a woman were nonexistent.

Music example 2. The main theme of section A. Mingas doubles the main melody an octave above. There is also a second male voice in parallel thirds and then fifths.

At the end of the first part, there is a passage from 3m54s onward that serves as a bridge between sections A and B and is characterized by a syncopated riff by the brass section of saxophone and trumpet (music example 3). After repeating four times, the theme does not return in this version, although, as we will later see, it will have a more prominent role in “Amoya’s version.”

Music example 3. The saxophone and trumpet “bridge” theme between sections A and B.

Section B starts at 4m05s and is characterized by the densification of the musical texture through the addition of percussion rhythms inspired by Mapiko’s performances. Simultaneously, Chico António is accompanied in unison by a choir that repeats a melodic phrase (music example 4) with lyrics describing Maria’s talents, among which is that she is “beautiful” and “organized.”

Music example 4. Vocal interpellation in section B.

Finally, section C comprises the song’s chorus, this time in Portuguese, at the 05m29s mark, first played by saxophone and trumpet, followed by an alternation between the choir and the referred brass instruments. The lyrics allude, similarly to the aforementioned OMSM’s songs, to the “happiness” theme: “Baila Maria oye ye, happiness is the most beautiful thing in life” (music example 5). The song ends with a fade-out, already close to the eighth minute. Appendix Table 1 resumes the structural analysis of Grupo RM’s version of “Baila Maria.”

The Grand Prix Découvertes 90 prize included 20,000 francs and the possibility of recording a CD in France. ³⁵ The album titled “Cineta,” recorded at Mercadet Studios in Paris, was released in November 1992 by RFI and Forlane, not under the name “Grupo RM,” but “Amoya,” chosen by Chico António after the French producer’s concerns that RM could be mistaken with the North American group REM. The disc contains eight tracks, including a new version of “Baila Maria” (Figure 3). ³⁶

Figure 3. Cover of the album “Cineta” by Amoya (Grupo RM).

Music example 5. The chorus of “Baila Maria.”

While the musical structure remains largely intact, there are several differences between Grupo RM and Amoya’s versions. The first change concerns the intro: in the Amoya version, the arpeggio inspired by the Tufo rhythm is not played by the guitar but by a synthesizer, while the introductory riff is absent. The first section (A) starts with a simplified texture, gradually adding sonic layers with the entrance of different instruments with the succession of each verse (first, the electric bass, then the cymbals and bass drum, then the snare drum, and so on). Theme 2 sees its frequency cut in half here, being sung in one voice as the original harmonies were suppressed. At 2m15s, theme 3 of the bridge appears on a much simpler pattern than the original, replacing Mapiko’s rhythms with a regular snare drumbeat. However, contrary to what happens in the original version, this theme has a central role in Amoya’s, as it is endlessly repeated until the song’s end. At 3m10s, themes 2 and 3 are juxtaposed, to which theme 5 (chorus) joins in at 3m25s, with the novelty of being harmonized. From that moment on, the main motifs and themes of the song are juxtaposed as if they were a pastiche or collage until the fade-out at the five-minute mark.

As the structural analysis of Amoya’s version confirms (Appendix Table 2), the musical conceptions and influences embodied in the original recording were essentially diluted in the new version. I interviewed Chico António in Maputo, where I had the chance to discuss my analysis of both versions of the song. His response was revealing and sheds light on Amoya’s recording process:

Chico António: For the Grupo RM version, we decided with producer Américo Xavier how everything should sound. For the French [Amoya version], they were the ones who decided how we should do it. I sent the song to France fifteen days before we arrived there, and it ended up with an excellent keyboard player who arranged it according to his sensibility. In truth, the original song was eight minutes long, so they had to cut its length to a 5-minute product.

Marco Roque de Freitas: But did you start preparing for those changes before you got there?

CA: They already had decided on the new structure of the song when we arrived; they already had a skeleton of the new version.

MRF: And how did you feel about it?

CA: I honestly thought it was good. Because the difference, in this case, is to make something that you can sell because the publisher’s objective was to recover part of the prize money and produce a good CD that could take us further; so, they had to modernize the song.… Here [in Maputo], we recorded it as if it was a live performance; in France, we recorded our parts separately. On top of that, they had their own set of instrumentalists: they had trombone, saxophone, and trumpet players; for instance, I didn’t have to play the trumpet. The musicians that came with me to France weren’t used to that way of recording. Even our drummer [Zeca Tcheco] had many difficulties.

MRF: So, you were transformed into a product….

CA: [confirms while nodding his head] I was already stuck with my fellow group members, my friends, who didn’t recognize and appreciate what the French were doing. They [groupmates] reacted very badly. I faced hostilities … big ones. When we returned to Mozambique, we couldn’t even stand talking to each other…. On the other hand, I was also hard-pressed by the French, who, in the end, were the ones who were going to pay us. It’s no joke…. You know how it is, how producers are….

MRF: But did you feel that your work was being disrespected? Let me rephrase: how did you feel at the time? And now, looking back, how do you feel about the situation?

CA: I don’t think they disrespected me. I see them as different versions of the same song; anyone can hear the one they prefer. There is a girl now in Portugal that has made her version too. For me, the more versions that exist, the better. What matters is that anyone can listen to “Baila Maria” in their desired version. That’s how music continues to move and be dynamic.

MRF: Which version do you prefer?

CA: I like mine. I prefer the first. ³⁷

This quote reveals the ambivalence of the situation—between musicians’ expectations and the reality of things, as well as the many inconveniences that happened during the recording process in France. While this song, as well as the album where it was included, can be analyzed as an experience tailored to promote a cheerful image of Mozambique in the same vein as OMSM did, the production process proved to be an authentic nightmare for the musicians involved. This was despite the band’s leader perceiving it as a necessary compromise between their creative experience and the demands of the music industries.

Given the already discussed contingencies, the two versions of “Baila Maria” can be reviewed considering Steven Feld’s analysis presented in the introduction: both are representative of a certain discursive duality between “World Music” and “World Beat.” The version by Grupo RM resembles a live performance, closer to the group’s “original” intent, while the “Amoya version” presents itself as a studio product far away from the performative ideal expected by the group. The very juxtaposition of phrases sung by the same voices reveals an idea of studio “montage” or “collage” that could not be reproduced live (for instance, the trumpet solos were juxtaposed with two singing verses, all of which were sung and played by Chico António). However, the oversimplification of percussion distances the “Amoya version” from the traditional rhythms that served as its inspiration. In short, while the first version is representative of what Grupo RM would do live, thus being close to the concept of “World Music”—in turn often described as “true,” “traditional,” “real,” and “authentic”—the second version is a “studio creation” directed toward what was expected by Westerner’s ears. Furthermore, the juxtaposition of the musical themes brings it closer to the “World Beat” concept due to its allegedly “hybrid” and “syncretic” features. At last, it should be noted that the “Amoya” version was never marketed in the country (except for some cassettes made available by Rádio Moçambique). Therefore, the “original” continues to be the best-known version among Mozambicans.

Embracing Reality: The Cases of Eyuphuro (1990) and Ghorwane (1993)

For most people, Mozambique conjures up images of tragedy: war, famine, and millions of refugees living on food aid. The other side of this young southern African nation, rich in art and culture, is hardly ever seen. Real World Records, Eyuphuro, “Mama Mosambiki” ³⁸

There were two other internationalization cases of Mozambican music during the early nineties, this time with minimal state interference as they were published through the “Real World” label. Founded in 1989 by the WOMAD festival and musician Peter Gabriel to provide access to good recording conditions to artists from all over the world, the “Real World” label has been one of the most important vectors for promoting non-Western music, particularly from Africa. Published in 1990, “Mama Mosambiki” ³⁹ by the group Eyuphuro became the tenth album published by this label. ⁴⁰

Eyuphuro members originally came from Ilha de Moçambique in the northern province of Nampula, 1,400 miles from the capital city Maputo. ⁴¹ One of my collaborators, producer Artur Garrido Júnior, mentioned that because its members were unfamiliar with the music industries’ intricacies, they fell victim to a scam when they came to Maputo for the first time:

A businessman invited Eyuphuro to come to Maputo to perform on some shows. It should be noted that only one of them was a musician by profession and most of them were never away from their home: Zena Bacar was a peasant, another was a bricklayer’s helper, another was a carpenter’s helper, and so on…. Well, after they performed in Maputo, they were abandoned in the streets. It would be like taking someone from here [Maputo] and dropping him in New York. So, I caught them sleeping on a bench in Tunduro Garden. My father had a pension at the time, and I asked him to take them in. Later I took them to a studio with instruments so they could play…. The State Secretary of Culture, Luís Bernardo Honwana, heard them … and decided to take them to the Mozambique week in Sweden…. The Swedes went crazy with that kind of music. Days later, Swedish newspapers announced Zena Bacar as one of the best jazz singers that had visited Sweden that year. And I thought: “who am I to disagree?” ⁴²

This statement confirms that internationalization was the only way out for most Mozambican groups, as Eyuphuro only became a success story due to the timely intervention of local producers and through its immediate integration into the “World Music” circuit. The group is presented by “Real World” as having a mixture of African influences in the voice, with Arab rhythms in the percussion and Portuguese-influenced rhythms in the acoustic guitar. The lyrics of the songs are in Nampula’s Emakhuwa language, where its members are originally from, and revolve around social issues such as divorce (“Nifungo”), abandonment (“Mwanuni”), machismo and the place of women in society (“Kihiyeny” and “Oh Mama”), and marital relationships (“Akatswela” and “We Awaka”), as well as the mother’s love for her children (“Nuno Maalani”). Finally, the song “Samukhela” speaks of nostalgia and the desire to migrate, adding that “when you get to your destination, you will miss your mother Africa.”

This album is particularly remarkable because it openly reflects on the difficulties of being a woman in socialist Mozambique since, as I’ve noted elsewhere, the women’s perspective was absent from most songs published through the NGOMA national label, except for some notable exceptions sung by men, which, in turn, made their absence even more obvious (2023a). As such, Zena Bacar represents a rare case of a woman artist who has succeeded in Mozambique, despite her initial recognition coming from abroad (Figure 4).

Figure 4. The cover of the album “Mama Mosambiki” by the group Eyuphuro (1990).

Although originally recorded in 1991, “Majurugenta” by Ghorwane was only published in 1993 by “Real World.” ⁴³ The group’s sound is inspired by many “traditional rhythms” such as Mapiko, Tufo, and Marrabenta, although resorting to instruments related to “música ligeira” [popular music]. ⁴⁴ Lyrically, this album is mostly sung in south-based Xichangana language and presents a sturdy criticism of Mozambican society. The song “Muhimba” addresses the cruelty of war; the song “Xai-Xai” reflects on mass working migration to the mines in South Africa; “Mavabwyi” discusses the country’s health problems, namely the lack of conditions to treat patients in hospitals; “Sathuma” tackles the theme of reusing objects and recycling; “Terehumba” narrates the story of a girl who is more interested in dating than studying; the songs “Majurugenta” and “Matarlatanta” focuses on clothing styles that were popular between the 1930s–1950s, and a popular skirt during the 1950s and 1960s, respectively; “Buluku,” in turn, highlights the challenges of acquiring clothing after independence, further adding that some women obtained good clothes through prostitution; while “Akuhanha” addresses the problems that the country was facing.

The disc’s liner notes reflect openly on the consequences of the sixteen-year war and the many hardships that engulfed the capital city during the conflict’s latter years. A desolate scenario is described, with stores running out of groceries and orphaned children begging for money on the streets. The reflection on the social status of musicians and the lack of conditions for the development of a successful musical career in Mozambique is also surprisingly straightforward:

Ghorwane rehearse and play on borrowed equipment and hustle free rehearsal time in a Maputo recording studio… No government enterprise schemes; sponsorship or record company advances here. Rehearsal facilities were far from perfect. Roberto gives an example: “it happened often and still happens that we get electric shocks from the microphones, so by experience we always maintain a certain distance!”… There are no pop stars in Mozambique in the western sense—dripping with jewelry, expensive cars, houses and groupies. Ghorwane commands respect but nobody has cash in Mozambique. They couldn’t sustain superstar lifestyles of their Western musicians even if they wanted to…. Ghorwane has recorded over thirty songs at Radio Mozambique’s 16-track studio up until independence in 1975…. The station records local bands, broadcasts the tapes the compiles the local “hit parade” on the strength of listener response. It’s no place for a band to get rich. ⁴⁵

This quote epitomizes the new neoliberal discourse in place during the early 1990s. It represented a new era in which values such as “openness,” “democracy,” and “transparency” were fostered and encouraged. Moreover, these two “Real World” cases demonstrate how the former idyllic and controlled perspectives were transformed into realistic and truthful positions regarding Mozambicans’ daily life and the country’s dire situation. Moreover, the liner notes of Ghorwane’s album unwaveringly describe the assassination of its saxophone player and composer, Zeca Alage, who was beaten to death in Maputo in April 1993, mere months before the album’s release. Insecurity, poverty, hunger, and war were contextualized as the backdrop of the album, while the failure of the socialist experience was openly assumed, paving the way to the first multiparty elections that would take place a year later (Figure 5).

Figure 5. The cover of the album “Majurugenta” by the group Ghorwane (1993).

Postlude: A Viable Alternative?

Recognizing that the commercial value of world music lies in how people read it, industry personnel ultimately create a product that balances these visions in ways that sustain their relationships with artists and maintains their positions as knowledgeable and trustworthy mediators and curators of “authentic” music in the eyes of European and American consumers. (Whitmore 2016:331)

Orchestra Marrabenta Star de Moçambique, Amoya, and Real World’s Eyuphuro and Ghorwane were exceptional success stories that were only possible due to private Mozambican enterprises (although artistically dependent on state-defined cultural policy) and foreign investment, variably through Movimento Company, Rádio France Internationale, or the “Real World” label. All three projects had the civil war as their focal point, whether by promoting alternative and contrastingly happy songs and themes, as was the cases of Orchestra Marrabenta Star de Moçambique and Grupo RM (Amoya), or by denouncing its consequences as Eyuphuro and Ghorwane did. However, it should be stated that these publications had reduced effectiveness in domestic affairs as they were not available in the country for a long time. First and foremost, as stated in Whitemore’s quote, they were meant to satisfy Western consumers, or at least what the industry’s personnel acknowledged as buyers’ expectations. Consequently, they fall into Bohlman’s “nationalistic music” concept, as they were exclusively sponsored for international representation of the country (2011:59).

This article also reveals that Mozambique’s “sonorous” representation in the global music market changed considerably over these eight transitional years (1987–1994). The inception of “World Music” as an overarching descriptive category coincided with the rise of a new president and the application of economic reforms in Mozambique, including a strict IMF restructuring plan that meant giving up the socialist ideology toward a liberal and capitalist one. By toning down the thematic elements of their lyrics and shifting focus to ostensibly innocuous political subjects like “happiness,” the analyzed groups played a crucial role in signaling to the world the ongoing cultural and economic reforms during the peace talks between FRELIMO and RENAMO. Music was thus instrumentalized as a symbol of the ongoing state reforms, and through it, a sonorous reconfiguration of the nation was in motion. In the case of OMSM, “World Music” served as a viable means to make political propaganda abroad, although camouflaged as “apolitical,” especially given the “happy” nature of the themes addressed.

Although outlined within the same objective as OMSM, Grupo RM’s (Amoya’s) experience brought several unforeseen constraints. Regarding this case, I decided to give special attention to the song “Baila Maria,” not only due to the complex intricacies surrounding its production but also because it embodies the classic template seen in many “World Music” studies, representing a clear opposition between the musicians’ interests and the international producers’ intent. In fact, the changes applied to the song did not consider the musicians’ creative choices and input. Aside from losing creative control and giving up the group’s name, the musicians’ right to perform on their record was also taken from them. The two versions of “Baila Maria” can also be viewed in light of the juxtaposition of Feld’s schi- words, revealing a certain duality between the concepts of “World Music” and “World Beat.” This duality, in turn, highlights the contrasting values of authenticity versus artificiality, seriousness versus triviality, and truth versus falsehood.

Nonetheless, FRELIMO lost control of the narrative over time, as made clear by the harsh reality presented in the “Real World” albums. “Openness,” “transparency,” and “reconciliation” became paramount values, and, as such, the consequences of war and social injustices related to women’s role in Mozambican society were openly stated in the lyrics of songs and assumed as the backdrop of both Eyuphuro and Ghorwane albums. It seems, therefore, that there’s a shift from a state-directed policy that masks the country’s problems, to a neoliberal one that is willing to emphasize those problems as a way to discredit Mozambique’s socialist experience.

To what extent did musicians identified or aligned themselves with shifting government positions? In truth, that was not even a possibility for the first two cases: Grupo RM members had no choice but to follow governmental directives because they were employees of the radio station and the Ministry of Information. However, while OMSM was financed by a private company, its owner—Aurelio Le Bon—was a renowned frelimist and a key agent for the application of the government’s agenda during the socialist period, a prerogative he retained after founding his company and label. In any case, musicians Mingas and António assured me that they were satisfied with promoting a happy image of the country, notwithstanding its precarious and civil-war-torn situation. Concerning the groups that were published through “Real World,” there is no doubt that they used this platform to criticize Mozambique’s lethargic situation, particularly in Ghorwane’s case. However, it could also be argued that by the time their album was released (1993), the country was already experiencing a transition toward a multiparty system, evident from the scheduling of the first general multiparty elections. Therefore, it was a reasonably safe decision to tackle these concerns, particularly because even FRELIMO openly recognized the limitations of their past strategies while expressing a commitment to adopting a new approach moving forward.

At last, I must now answer the question posed in this section’s title: Was “World Music” a viable alternative to the lethargy that was sanctioning the music industries in Mozambique? From an economic point of view, the answer is overtly positive, but from a creative viewpoint, this article confirmed that it had severe limiting effects. If, on the one hand, these experiences acted as oxygen bubbles for many musicians (especially concerning the payment of copyright and other similar rights), on the other hand, it was through them that Mozambican musicians faced the cruelty of the production machine that would deprive them of decision making over their work. Ultimately, artists had to grapple with the harsh contradictions presented by the “World Music” market, as it remained, for many years, the sole viable avenue toward a successful artistic career.