Lokua Kanza and Wasis Diop:
Afropop's new hitmakers?

Two African singer-songwriters working in Paris are out to reinvent African pop. Leaving aside all vestiges of "roots" music, and eschewing the glitzy dance productions Paris is known for, these artists have cut their own path. Aiming squarely at a worldwide, soft-rock audience, Zaire's Lokua Kanza and Senegal's Wasis Diop have made albums full of gentle vocal harmonies, pristine acoustic sounds, friendly familiar rhythms, and catchy vocal hooks that glide effortlessly from African languages to English to French. Both artists have shown impressive sales in Europe. But will their docile brand of Afropop find favor in the US? With Kanza's Wapi Yo (BMG/Catalyst) and Diop's No Sant (Triloka) in stores, the two artists have begun to tour here, and early signs look good for both of them.

On No Sant, Diop presents himself as an African folk-rocker. On "Di Na Wo," a strummy, acoustic-guitar-driven chugger, his vocal harmonies shimmer like old Simon and Garfunkel. "N.O.P." offers a funky rock groove with a solid live-band feeling. The song's dreamy B-section vamp is just one example of Diop's facility with Western song structures. His versatile voice is best in its raspy, low range. There's a hint of reggae soul man Toots Hibbert in the album's gospelly college-radio hit "No Sant," which moves like a Latin-tinged '60s pop tune and hits a homer with its playfully descending vocal hook, which is unforgettable after a single listening. Full of interesting elements -- a bagpipe, fuzz guitar, piano, and a wryly commenting tenor sax -- his album is masterfully arranged and very easy to listen to.

Kanza's Wapi Yo sticks even more to acoustic sounds -- principally his own clean and tasty steel-string guitar picking and strumming, and a piano. His supple voice, capable of anguished soul cries and soothing intimacy, proves his greatest asset. On the title track, a piano ballad, fans of conventional Zairean pop will recognize the romantic flourishes and cadence of the fluid Lingala language. But on tunes like the spare "Yoka," he also evokes the breathy nuances of Brazilian bossa nova. Kanza writes love songs -- wistful, nostalgic, melancholy, and, some will say, mawkish. But like Diop, he's a consummate arranger with a great ear for hooks. The album's radio hit, "Shadow Dancer," recalls the earnest vocal harmonies and breezy urgency of the '70s pop group America.

Lest you doubt there's a strategy at work here, just look at these two CDs. Both have easy, six-letter titles and cover images of the artists in soft sepia tones surrounded by lots of white space. Each artist makes a cameo appearance singing on the other's record. In their recent tours, neither man could bring his whole band, but they both adapted like seasoned professionals. Diop arranged his songs for two guitars, a percussionist, and a French accordion player, winning sure, if subdued, approval at New York's SOB's. Kanza brought just two singers, enough to deliver his finely crafted, unmistakable vocal blend. At Fez, a downstairs Manhattan nightclub, he loosened the crowd up till he had them laughing, singing, and clapping along with him. He's got the edge when it comes to rousing an audience, but these are both formidable talents who show every sign of exceeding the successes of their African predecessors. Traditionalists will complain that Africa gets lost in the mix, but if Kanza and Diop can offend that core Afropop audience and still outsell the competition, we can expect many to follow in their wake.

-- Banning Eyre