Medicinal: African Head Charge's Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah speaks to Dave Segal
April 2020

Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah. By Marg Yo
“Spiritually, it’s a medicine, too, because if you play the drums with that perfection, you can bring the ancestors close to you. That’s the mystical side of drumming and how it can cure people.”
As part of an ongoing reissue campaign, last month On-U Sound released the epic five album box set Drumming Is A Language (1990-2011), a collection of post-1980s releases from the On-U label founder Adrian Sherwood and Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah's collaborative outfit African Head Charge, who formed in 1981. The set includes Songs Of Praise (1990), In Pursuit Of Shashamane Land (1993), Vision Of A Psychedelic Africa (2005), Voodoo Of The Godsent (2011), and Churchical Chant Of The Iyabinghi, a collection of unreleased version mixes from Songs Of Praise and In Pursuit Of Shashamane Land.
The Wire contributor Dave Segal caught up with Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah to talk about the recording studio, what he learnt in Ghana, and the healing properties of the drum.
Dave Segal: To my ears, African Head Charge have created the most adventurous and rewarding music on the On-U Sound label—which is saying a lot. Please describe the creative process between you and producer Adrian Sherwood.
Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah: Well, at first our creative process was that I would go in the studio and I just start playing something and Adrian would record it and we’d just build it up, build it up, and build it up until it turned into something. And then sometimes he’d have some beats that they haven’t done anything with, and I would just make something happen with it.
We would start with just the drums. I remember a few times there was a track already happening, but it wasn’t really happening, so I would do some drumming and make something happen with it.
But mainly, we’d just go on and start and sometimes he might set a time in like “1… 2… 3… 4… 1” and then I’d just play a song or something and we’d just keep building on it. Later, if I got an idea, like if somebody touch high or y’know if certain other songs worked some more, these are the songs where maybe I would write lyrics and then make the riddims, then I’d put the lyrics that are right on top of the riddims.
Can you discuss how you decide what chants and other vocal samples will appear in African Head Charge tracks? Or are they indeed all vocals recorded in the studio? Whatever the case, these elements really enhance the rhythms and atmospheres of your albums.
Most of the time we have the tracks there. Adrian would usually get these samples, so after we laid the tracks, then he would put the samples through it. We got them from Alan Lomax. Adrian would put those chants through the rhythms we are playing.
We did this one rhythm and then he put the voice of this man talking about relativity. What’s his name, the man who’s very clever? Einstein! I think that’s the first one he did and it was really effective. Apart from that, it was Alan Lomax tracks.
I don’t think Adrian is really into singers. Prince Far I’s voice he really likes—apart from those singers who’re already big, like obviously Lee Perry and all that. But Adrian was more into playing the tracks and running samples through them.
There is one record which is really freaky, Drastic Season. When we decided to do Drastic Season, when money started happening, that’s when Adrian went deeper than normal. We would go inside the studio, but not the control room. Because there was a lot of coke going on, if I speak the truth. That’s why Drastic Season was so weird. You can see how strange it is compared to the other albums. That was in Southern Studios. That’s when I made sure I wouldn’t even go inside there, I would stay inside the work room where the drums are.
People go though different things at different times in their life. I remember they used to say we were boring because we just wanna smoke weed and relax and be calm. Weed relaxes me. For instance, I remember one time I was really angry with somebody, so much so that I was ready to fight this person. I was a bit aggressive when I was younger. I was passing my neighbour’s house and he saw me and asked me to come, asked me to sit down and lit up a spliff. So after we finished the spliff, I really didn’t feel angry or that I wanted to fight anybody anymore.
So if you’re going to do something wrong, and you smoke ganja, it’ll change the way you think about it. That’s the good thing about the herbs.
Do you perceive a change in the music that appears on Drumming Is A Language versus what came before, and if so, what did you do differently?
My general impression is that the tracks of the later period have a less harsh tone to them (for example, “One Destination”, “Somebody Touch I”) and maybe a greater spiritual dimension... although “Full Charge” and “Animal Law” are exceptions, as they sounds like '80s-era AHC.
On some of those tracks the lyrics just came to me and it just fit the rhythms that we were making and we just tap into it. With “Somebody Touch I”, it was different, it was deliberate. With other tracks it’s less deliberate, things just happen.
The more we did it the more we changed. At first we were just going in the studio without any idea and Adrian was just in the mix and we just worked hard in the work room. We’d start something and build on it, and on and on. And later on we tried different things with a different approach and I think it’ll always be like that. Different times give us a different approach.
Did moving to Ghana change anything about the way you made and thought about music?
Yes, in the way of the drumming. The drumming we did in Jamaica is more like the Pocomania and the Nyabinghi drumming. And that was my influence. But the Pocomania was really an influence from Africa, so when I went to Africa, I saw the real proper drumming and I started taking it in. So once I’d started taking in those kinds of drumming, when I got back to London, I found myself playing more of those styles.
I’m always learning, even now at my age. I’m hearing different styles and I’m learning. Coming to Africa and spending time here helped me to develop different styles.
I read that Fela Kuti and the Funkees had an influence on you. What did you learn about music and life from them?
What I learned from them was to maintain the pulse. In music you have to maintain the pulse. We have so much music now where people don’t maintain the pulse. What I learned from the Funkees and Fela Kuti and others was that whatever you’re holding, you hold it strong. You don’t slow it down or speed it up, you maintain that same pulse right through.
And I think that’s why Fela knows people who sound like me. When I went to work with them, I was the only Jamaican; everyone [else] was from Africa. Then they showed me what to play, and I had to play it. So when they rehearse a song, they will rehearse it for half an hour. This song is only five or 10 minutes but we want to play the same song or go back to the beginning and go right though again all the way back, so for the next half an hour you have to maintain that pulse. And that’s what I was doing while Sonny Akpan [the conga player] and all them were playing the lead parts. I was known for maintaining the pulse.

Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah in London, 2018. Photo by Matthew Jones
You have said, “The drums are medicine.” Can you elaborate on that thought?
Yes, medicine, physically. And spiritually. Physically in the way that if you are stressed or sick, it can be medicinal. For example, someone I knew was in a coma in hospital. I went there with my drums and started to play and he started moving his toes. From there he started moving with the vibrations of the drums. The drums helped him to start to move. It’s a medicine.
Spiritually, it’s a medicine, too, because if you play the drums with that perfection, you can bring the ancestors close to you. That’s the mystical side of drumming and how it can cure people.
While I was in London, I worked for Hackney Community Workshop at a time when nothing much was happening in my career, and we were signing on for jobs and they had these places you could go and meet other artistic people. There would be people with mental and physical difficulties, and we would go and play the drums for them, and for the two hours we were there, people would start to sweat, people sat down and hardly moving, but we’d have a racket.
We used to sing this song “olay olay olay olay olay, feeling hot hot hot”, and in these places these people had difficulties, maybe they couldn’t walk, but they started dancing and singing. So for that time it awakened something in them.
That’s why I see the drumming as a very special thing. Through the workshops, I got to see the reaction that you get from the people who’re involved in it. Even the people drumming alone, I would get them playing, so everybody gets something out of it. And what I was really teaching them was maintaining the pulse. And once it fits, with another drum or another beat, enjoy it.
This is how I know drumming is a medicine.
African Head Charge Drumming Is A Language 1990–2011 is out now on On-U Sound. John Morrison reviews the release in The Wire 434. Subscribers can read the review on Exact Editions.
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