Seun Kuti is one of the inheritors of his father Fela Kuti’s legacy and as such, much of the energy, passion and even anger that is infused in Afrobeat. He’s been gadding about with his dad’s band, Egypt 80, gigging across the planet and even doing what his dad never did and putting out a record or too. Last year’s somewhat prosaically titled From Africa With Fury: Rise was not the least bit prosaic in execution, brilliantly embodying every element of Afrobeat’s legacy and especially, keying into the mood of the Arab Spring. Seun Kuti might live a little bit better than his dad did, well, a lot better actually, but songs like African Soldier, Mr. Big Thief and, of course, Rise still carry the torch for a better life for all in Africa. Seun has also put some of his money where his mouth is, getting involved in the Occupy Nigeria movement, among other things.

When Egypt 80 took the stage at Brisbane’s Powerhouse for the first show of their Australian tour, a lot of them looked a bit worn out from the flight, if not the struggle. Piece by piece they built into Fela Kuti’s much loved Zombie. It seemed a bit slow to start and music director / keyboardist Lekan Animashaun had a bit of a f***-up, doing a big welcome for Seuuuuuun Kuti!! Two attractive lady backing-vocalists wandered on stage instead. The embarked on a little solo over the top of which Lekan tried to explain that this was not Seun, sorry! It became increasingly difficult to pay attention to him as the girls started crumping enthusiastically towards the audience. He seemed uncertain what to do next and the beat just wandered on for a minute or two before Seun wandered on stage to no fanfare, looking a little sheepish.

A big, early highlight for me was a song that will appear on Seun’s next record, that song is African Airways. It just felt unbelievably energetic and tight in a way some of the other material didn’t. At other times the band had this weird thing going on where they’d stand around, letting the beat play on while they had a little discussion about who’d do the next solo. It had the effect of sapping the energy of the song, losing direction and momentum which the band then had to build up again.

It’s all relative though, I mean, this is frickin’ Egypt 80. Their off-moments still take your body and make you move ‘cause you got NO DAMN CHOICE!! At least that’s how I felt and about half the audience, gathered on the stairs of the auditorium and dancing their asses off, seemed to agree. I kinda wish there had been no chairs, because in the middle of the theatre, where I was, everybody was sitting around very politely appreciating the music…and it began to feel very white.

Seun got very political, going on some (admittedly quite populist) rants about corrupt governments and big business. The guy was clearly after some shouts of righteous indignation and furious approval, but I felt embarrassed for Brisbane as the seated audience just continued to sit there, giving him very little. Honestly, sometimes it couldn’t have been more dead if he was playing to a room full of stockbrokers. I mean, did you listen to the last record? What did you expect? Didja like it?? I know they did, because there was a standing ovation at the end, but still, this is afrobeat, it isn’t music to goddamn sit around to.

The Powerhouse itself didn’t seem to know what kind of gig they wanted this to be. It wasn’t just the seats, but also the alcohol ban (!) and the usher who got to be really unpopular, running around and telling everyone to stop taking photos (I’m keen to know if that was Kuti’s policy or just the venue’s default - whatever, there’s one million unauthorised live images and videos of Kuti on the web, you can’t put the cork back in that bottle). I’m just saying, you could have this same gig at The Hifi with none of the restrictions (and there’d be a cloak-room too - I had to carry my motor-bike helmet and jacket around all night like an idiot), oh and the Box Office forgot to put my friend (who arrived separately) on the door after I called up and arranged it the day before. …I mean thankyou for the free ticket… do I get to come back?

Whoah, hold on, I gotta make it clear that none of this could actually hurt my overall enjoyment. Shortly after the gig started I got down and never stopped moving, like I said, in their weaker moments Seun Kuti And Egypt 80 were still on fire and when they were on target, you could’ve run the city grid off the energy. Please come back again, Mr. Kuti - maybe put Brisbane later in the tour so you’re less jet-lagged - but whatever the circumstances, I just can’t wait.

- Chris Cobcroft.