<\/a><\/p>\n

A gourd is a good omen.\u00a0 It was strung off the mic stand on stage left of the Highline Ballroom<\/a> like a nectar-heavy plum, latticed with beads and primed to drop any second.\u00a0 I was trying to sort out the stage set-up\u2026guessing how many band members would be waltzing out to accompany Seun Kuti<\/a> come set time.\u00a0 I could identify most of the instruments despite a whale-sized hand drum lying on its belly with two-inch block letters carved in the side.\u00a0 It was clearly a percussion instrument, but like none I\u2019d ever seen.\u00a0 The behemoth cylinder summed up the evening to come: I had a vague idea of how everything would go, but I didn\u2019t really <\/em>know what I was getting into.<\/p>\n

When I first heard Seun Kuti\u2019s name, I figured he was related to the late Afrobeat<\/a> pioneer and political activist Fela Kuti<\/a>.\u00a0 What I came to discover was that Seun is in fact Fela\u2019s youngest son, and he\u2019s been touring with his father\u2019s original backing band Egypt 80 for half of his life.\u00a0 Only 14 when his father passed, Seun immediately became the lead singer of Egypt 80, and his 17 years of performing have made an enviably captivating and gifted musician of him.<\/p>\n

When I arrived at the Highline Ballroom, I waded through the venue\u2019s usual crowd of young urban professionals sipping Stella Artois.\u00a0 DJ Rich Medina<\/a> was spinning both traditional and revivalist Afrobeat tossed in with Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings and other bands I wished my LG flip-phone could have Shazammed. There was a buzz in the crowd–a sort of communal knowledge that the moment Egypt 80 came out, we\u2019d all be dancing far too hard.\u00a0 I kept staring at that beaded gourd, grinning with the kind of anticipation that brews right before an energetic performance.\u00a0 I mean, how often do we get to see a 12+-piece ensemble these days?\u00a0 We see a guy with a laptop and an effects pedal and we call it a band, but this is a full<\/em> band.<\/em><\/p>\n

Medina\u2019s set eventually dies down.\u00a0 Egypt 80\u2019s 73-year-old keyboardist Lekan Animashaun<\/a> steps on stage in a boldly printed tunic with matching hat and pants.\u00a0 \u201cGood evening, gentlemen and ladies\u201d he says in a thick Nigerian accent.<\/p>\n

I immediately see where this is going.<\/p>\n

\u201cI say gentlemen and ladies, because, where I come from, the man comes first.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was like a record scratching. Lekan\u2019s culturally-fueled, tepid sexism immediately watered down my state of elation. It doesn\u2019t help that I write for a feminist music outlet, but after unavoidable wincing I managed to refocus on becoming excited again, despite the unnecessary remark.<\/p>\n

The remainder of Egypt 80 poured onto the stage.\u00a0 11 musicians and a pair of back-up singers\/dancers, both scantily clad beauties with Crayola-hued face paint and beads dripping off every bit of them.\u00a0 The group played a song written by Lekan, a bit more on the traditional side of Nigerian music than what I\u2019d heard from Seun\u2019s recordings.\u00a0 Naturally this number served as an intro for Seun, who came prancing out shortly after its conclusion.<\/p>\n

He practically flew onto stage, an alto sax slung around his neck, decked out in slate blue digital camouflage pants, a matching button-up, and of course, loafers of the same print and color.\u00a0 I was dumbstruck by how attractive he was.\u00a0 He has a powerful, feline face with a wide set nose and flaring nostrils that suggest fury even when he\u2019s grinning.<\/p>\n

Seun was performing in overdrive from minute one. When he wasn\u2019t singing, he was wailing on sax, never ceasing to dance in either scenario.\u00a0 It was a small stage for 14 people to occupy, and he managed to make it microscopic considering how much space he monopolized.\u00a0 He moved in staccato, ass-out, flailing gyrations that were as sexy as they were foreign.\u00a0 His particular style\u00a0of dance exemplified the charm and arrogance that make up his character: at one point he referred to himself as \u201ca very beautiful man.\u201d\u00a0 You\u2019d like to argue, but he\u2019s not wrong in the least.<\/p>\n

With the help of his back-up singers Seun removed his shirt, revealing a \u201cFela Lives\u201d tattoo across the width of his shoulder blades.\u00a0 Throughout the set he paid respects to his deceased father, interspersed with political diatribe denouncing the Westernization of African women and the IMF, or \u201cInternational Mother Fuckers\u201d as Seun coined it.\u00a0 Though as impassioned as his speeches were, his geriatric band seemed to be rolling their eyes behind his bare back.\u00a0 Few of them under 60, they responded to Seun\u2019s energy like cynical uncles that used to babysit him.\u00a0 It was as if they were saying: \u201cYou think you\u2019re a hotshot now, but we\u2019ve all changed your diapers.\u201d\u00a0 To make matters worse, Seun was literally flicking sweat all over them with every gesture-I saw the bassist flinch several times, just slightly dodging bullets of perspiration.<\/p>\n