And now it should serve
as his own eulogy. "Awusah" was an old folk song until Kpakpo brought his musical attention to it and made it new. With
his trumpet and voice, Kpakpo gave this song a distinct life and
a sweet-sad tonal feel.
The bitter-sweet quality was a
mark of Kpakpo's talent, something he always brought to the music
he chose to play.
But Kpakpo also had a slight sense of humor in
his personal life, which sometimes fed into his music.
For this humor, I draw
your attention to his vocal rendition of the Ga fisher folk
song, "Aliwuo" on the same "Kaya" album.
Aliwuo was recorded sometime in the
60s, with the Uhuru Professional Dance Band. Kpakpo, the lead
trumpeter of the band was called upon to sing, since for some
reason the band's original vocalist was not present at the
session. The result was an instant hit, both in humor and
musicality.
Kpakpo, a Ga, opened that song with a prelude in
the Akan language.
"Agoooo.. Minua fo nyinaaa,
Fante” he started.
Indeed, Kpakpo, as a Ga, was not
raised on the Akan language and, therefore, the accent came out
raw, as an unintentional bastardization of the Akan language.
But the accent supported the humorous overture,
as the story of the song changed to the Ga language. It
became a joy to hear “Aliwuo” the Ga song sang that way.
Kpakpo was not mocking any of the
languages in that song. Even Akans who heard the song later
didn't feel their language was deliberately broken. They
heard it as natural to Kpakpo the Ga man and readily forgave him
because of the virtuosity of the rendition of the entire song.
Kpakpo, at the time of the recording
of "Aliwuo," was a young man in his late 20s. But, he
had already gained the reputation of a superb instrumentalist
- a trumpeter and a flugelhorn player with Uhuru Band; arguably, the most
professional dance band of the era in West Africa.
So much was Kpakpo bonded to his music
that it never escaped any part of his life.
Even at leisure time in his living room, away from work, you
would see his beloved instruments arranged around him, within
reach and ready to be played at the slightest impulse.
Kpakpo was born December 25, 1940 and raised mostly at Bhamiye
House, Korletsom Odumasi. His mother was from the Odjidja
family. We called her "Auntie Dear."
Truth be told, a son wanting to be a
professional dance-band musician in a family of educators and
pastors, who were raised by missionaries of the Basel Mission (now Presbyterian),
was an unpalatable choice of a career path for the elders
of the Odjidja
clan.
But the irony from this side of the
family was that it was chuck full of musicans. But
they just openly wanted Kpakpo to be a professional teacher
instead.
Regardless, Kpakpo chose professional
dance hall music as a calling. He took to the trumpet and even
became a band leader before leaving Ghana.
It is gratifying to note that it was
his trumpet that brought him to the
United States of America.
Kpakpo met and married the late Ms.
Janet Addo in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, Janet died just weeks
before Kpakpo was to achieve his epic ambition to play at the
famous Hollywood Bowl.
I was at Los Angeles, California for
the burial. And with a double burden of pain in
my heart, I drove past the marquee that still listed
Kpakpo's HighLife Jazz Fusion Show, which was slated for a
date in October 2006.
The night after
Jane's burial. I watched Kpakpo, deep in sorrow, with muted trumpet
sketches play alongside Mahalia Jackson's song, "Take my hand, Precious
Lord," that was playing on the stereo in the background.
Kpakpo was mourning Jane on
his trumpet, the only way
he knew best.
I sat mute. Listened helplessly,
enchanted but inactive. There
was piano in the room. If only I had the skill to accompany
him, as I had promised him for all my adult years!
So Kpakpo played on - alone.
Kpakpo on any of his horns could be
colorfully reminiscent of some of the Jazz greats. His solo
melodies usually bluesy and melancholic. For example, "She mi ni oya," another traditional
song he arranged and recorded on the album "Kaya."
In that song was the
appropriate framing of a tinge of sadness; of cadences of
muted trumpet sound and the aging voice of Kpakpo.
And the theme of separation that was
already provided in the title was loud in this song: The parting
message from a lover, filial or
otherwise.
It was all Kpakpo, using the same
forlornness to a proper effect.
But the feelings on the "Awusah"
song was better. Kpakpo
loved it. And so did I.
Just after Kpakpo's death was
announced, I listened to the album "Kaya" again. And instantly, the idea
of "Awusah" being a fitting
tribute to him struck me.
There was this strong yearning, sang
in Ga, for his dear deceased
mother, "Auntie Dear." I paraphrase the vocal lines:
I am an orphan
I wont know the
day
Of my own demise
I have no mother
And no father
Pity is my name
The deserver of empathy
From day to day.
And then the trumpet riffs and the
forlornness intent followed. I had to conclude that the man had already sang his own obituary.
Kpakpo, despite his physically strong
presence, was very emotionally vulnerable. His big
eyes would signal when he was sad or happy, or ready to
register any experiences of pathos.
Nature has a way of packaging people.
And I think the above qualities were what made him the
great musician that he was.
Kpakpo had asked to be buried
next to his mother, "
Auntie Dear."
I pay this tribute to him not
only because he was family but also for giving me a window
to the lifestyles of professional musicians, some of whom I got
to meet in his company.
I pay also tribute to
his generational compatriots of the music profession in Ghana for their collective passion for
the high-life style, the best dance-hall music form of any era
in this country.
Kpakpo had two sons, Allotey and
Allotei (deceased). He is survived by one son, Edward Allotey
Addo and his son's wife Doris and five grand children (Winfried Kpakpo, William Akwei, Isaac Nii Moi, Agnes Aku-Sika, David Addo)
.
Kpakpo will be buried at Krobo Odumasi on
October 07, 2017.
On behalf of the Odjidjas, the
Tekpeteys and the
rest of the families of Bhamiye House, Korletsom, I wish him a
deep and passionate farewell and a peaceful journey upwards to
his maker.
E. Ablorh-Odjidja, Publisher,
www.ghanadot.com, Washington, DC, September 08, 2017
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