KUDURU
Kuduru girls
Kuduru
music rises up from the streets of Luanda. It’s an
intense mix of hard beats and LOUD Portuguese vocals
accompanied by a fast and sensual hip-swinging dance.
In Rangel we meet a group of pioneering female Kuduro artists known as “Kudurista” (Kuduristas): Nayo Crazy, Gata Agressiva, Foffando, Noite e Dia, Propia Alicia, Damaida and Jani.
They’re tough girls, outspoken and scantily dressed. They might not have education or money but they’re armed with plenty of attitude and style. In the male-dominated world of Kuduru, these women hold their own ground. I experienced a fascinating and challenging relationship with all of them.
On the day we saw Noio Crazy recording in a small studio she delivered a free flow of tough shouting over a rough beat: the volume that this little women creates is astounding. There is no money in Kuduru, you are only as big as your last track. When a Kuduru artist performs, you see how their energetic form of expression demands - and gets - attention and respect.
In Rangel we meet a group of pioneering female Kuduro artists known as “Kudurista” (Kuduristas): Nayo Crazy, Gata Agressiva, Foffando, Noite e Dia, Propia Alicia, Damaida and Jani.
They’re tough girls, outspoken and scantily dressed. They might not have education or money but they’re armed with plenty of attitude and style. In the male-dominated world of Kuduru, these women hold their own ground. I experienced a fascinating and challenging relationship with all of them.
On the day we saw Noio Crazy recording in a small studio she delivered a free flow of tough shouting over a rough beat: the volume that this little women creates is astounding. There is no money in Kuduru, you are only as big as your last track. When a Kuduru artist performs, you see how their energetic form of expression demands - and gets - attention and respect.
gata agressiva
When I first met Gata it seemed like she had nothing going on in her life but her next Kuduru gig. After spending a little time with her, she grew into a fully-fledged woman: a 28-year-old mother to a beautiful girl, she is back in evening school and determined to win a diploma so she can be “somebody”.
For now, Kuduru is her income and way out. She’s trying to get paid gigs, get recorded and land herself a hit song. I see her putting up a big front: she drinks a lot, shouts and adopts an attitude as she struggles to be taken seriously in order to make a buck. She hustles everyone, including me, for whatever she thinks she can get. She’s trying not be used again, trying to make it.
Most people here think that Kuduru is directly connected to crime. Gata tells me that, like hip-hop, Kuduru is a genre of music with a specific scene: although some crews are gang affiliated, some aren’t.
I salute this young woman for having the ambition, talent and power to do what she does. What confuses me is that many of the Kuduru artists I meet seem to be unaware of the sheer power of their music. Gata is the perfect example of this – given the choice, she would love to sing Zouk (tropical rhythmic music from the French Caribbean islands. “Zouk” means “party” in French Creole).
