Undisputed masters of ecstatic tribal dance, indissolubly bound to the rhythmic geometries of African music, drawn to electro-funk and techno contamination as much as to the most spiritual nuances of jazz, London's Ibibio Sound Machine take yet another step forward with their new album "Chopping Mountain".
Having dissolved the boundaries between afrobeat and electronica and codified their own style with the excellent "Electricity", the collective now projects its dance-cosmic-soul vision into the future with a consistent, musically solid project that, without sacrificing its danceable attitude, dusts off its Nigerian roots. Eno Williams's vocal virtuosity is as colourful as ever, but also more velvety, as shown by the refined reggae-dub of "Love", at times even heart-wrenching, or the aching closing mantra of "River Don't Rush". "Chopping Mountain" marks yet another turning point for the band: the London collective preserves the eclectic nature that has always defined its output, but this time forgoes an outside producer and entrusts the fate of its sixth album to keyboardist and saxophonist Max Grunhard.
The nearly seven minutes of "Burning In Lagos" immediately reveal extremely meticulous rhythmic textures and an excellent groove born from the interplay of bass, horns, guitars and synths, setting up the sparkling, cutting afro-funk sounds of the title track. Ibibio Sound Machine keep the dance elements of the songs down to the essentials, forging minimal-ethno-disco episodes ("When You Want To Dance") and obsessive kraut-afro-dance weaves ("Concept Of Love"), while still leaving room for subtle, precious instrumental digressions.
"Chopping Mountain" ends up being the best album for anyone seeking an immediate way into the band's long history: the velvety stride of the splendid, refined "Give Me Peace", the exotic Stax/Motown-style soul sounds of "Love" and the elaborate rhythmic patterns of the closing track "River Don't Rush" all succeed in showcasing the depth of the project without ever loosening the tension.
What further seals the album's success are, oddly enough, those episodes that on paper look simpler and more offhand: on "Menso" the group takes a further step back, quoting Manu Dibango and projecting him into the future; with "Return To Sender" they do the opposite, pairing contemporary electronic sounds with a retro flow, before dissolving it all into the ethno-synth mantra of "Kukuru", an inspired touch that leaves its mark precisely thanks to that ineffable lightness that runs alongside superficiality without ever crossing into it.
And that's the whole charm of an album as enjoyable as few others, a display of maturity arriving after ten years of continuous evolution.
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13/10/2026
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Gianfranco Marmoro, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.