National Geographic Music (National Geographic)

Earlier this summer, American audiences experienced a rare treat as King Sunny Adé -- one of African pop's true living legends - returned to U.S. stages for the first time since 2005.

Once a fixture on the international touring circuit, the legendary Nigerian bandleader, has slowed down a bit in recent years. Now 63, Adé has taken on the role of elder statesman for the Nigerian music industry.

But don't be fooled - Adé's potent juju music - a simmering blend of psychedelic guitars layered over traditional Yoruba rhythms - still packs the same heady punch that it did Adé's 1970s and '80s heyday. And when King Sunny Adé straps on his guitar and takes the stage with his legendary African Beats band, they can still raise the roof and shake the rafters.

Nat Geo Music recently sat down with KSA in New York City before his appearance at the Celebrate Brooklyn festival to talk about his current tour, his crusade against Nigerian music piracy, and the peculiar African habit of "spraying" musicians with money.

Nat Geo Music: It's been a long time since you've been in the States - welcome back!

King Sunny Adé: Thank You.

What have you been up to? Are you still working as President of the Nigerian Musician's Federation?

No, I'm only on the advisory council now. The tenure of the President is only three years, so I stepped down. But I was very happy to let someone else have a chance at that position.

As I recall, you were working very hard to fight music piracy in Nigeria during your tenure. How is that going?

We are still battling piracy. But the difference is that now the government listens to our recommendations. They are doing their best and have gotten much more aggressive with the penalties for piracy. In the old days, if you were caught with pirate recordings, you paid only one Naira per pirate CD you were caught with. Now the fine is 500,000 Naira [about $3,500]. So that is progress.

Also, the government has set aside special police to combat piracy, and funded a special campaign to raise awareness, to talk about it publicly, and convince pirates to do the right thing. And I think it's working.

Really?

[laughs] Yes. Really. You know these music pirates aren't just small people trying to feed their families - they are organized criminal syndicates. But they aren't stupid, they see that there is easier money somewhere else, so they move on.

But Nigeria has such a terrible reputation for music and film piracy...

[laughs] Yes. Yes. Alright... and you forgot internet fraud!

Exactly...

And this is why it's very important for me to fight this negative image of my country. Pirates and criminals not only hurt my business, but they hurt our country, too. They give us a terrible reputation internationally, and drive investors away. Some people will see them and say 'why should we do business in Nigeria, when there are so many criminals'. That's why we must use the law to fight these criminals - to show that Nigeria follows the rule of law.

Speaking of CD's, you've re-released Seven Degrees North for this tour - an album that was originally released in 2001. What's the story behind that?

There was a problem with the distribution when that record first came out, so many people who wanted it never got it. People were still looking for it, so why not bring it out again and satisfy that demand?

I've actually recorded three or four albums in Nigeria since it was originally released. But Seven Degrees North was recorded here, so for me it's about quality. The international market has higher standards.

I heard you were recording some new tracks as well...

Yes. We have a lot of new tracks, but I want to wait until the material is fully cooked together before I say anything about it.

Are you trying some experiments with these tracks?

No, not really. In Juju music you have to be extremely careful not to deviate too much from the roots, or it becomes a different music altogether. It's like jazz - you have a classic jazz, and many variations. I play classical juju; roots juju. I want my juju music to sound like juju music, not a variation or a deviation.

Fair enough... Did you bring your whole band for this tour?

No. It's very expensive. On this tour I only brought over 16 musicians. I don't like it, but that's what I can afford. I prefer to travel with 23, 24 musicians. Of course, at home I play with 52 members in my band. It's a much better sound.

The last time you played here in New York was in 2005, when you filled in for Youssou N'Dour at his annual Grand African Ball...

Yes. That was a very good show. Were you there?

Actually, I was... I remember there was so much "spraying" that I thought every Nigerian in New York was on the stage!

[laughs] Yes. I remember that, too. There were so many people on the stage that night! I shook so many hands that I thought my arm was going to fall off. But it was very messy, too. I don't like when people are mashing currency up on the floor.

Spraying musicians with money isn't something that American audiences see very often. What are the origins of the custom?

In the old days, in the ancestors' time, the king would call the musician to him and tie a cowrie shell - this was the first money in Nigeria - around the performer's head. This was to show appreciation and respect for the music. Like giving an actor an expensive bouquet of flowers. Later, the shells were replaced by a coin, and later coins were replaced by currency [notes]. But you can't tie a string through currency, [because] you ruin it. So now we put the currency on the performers' heads directly.

Why do you think the custom persists?

Of course we musicians like it because it helps us survive. It's an important source of income. In my kind of music you can play anywhere: a concert hall, a festival, a ballroom, a private party, a club, a school, etc. And many times you don't have a contract, so you make more money from the audience than from the promoters.

But also, it's very simple: People want you to mention their names. So they will give musicians money directly, or give other people money to give to the musicians, too. People want to be recognized as patrons, as sponsors. It's the same everywhere. Here in New York patrons put their names on museums and concert halls, in Nigeria they share the stage with the musicians and pay them directly. I think people everywhere want status and recognition.

You're kind of a patron, too, right? Do you still sponsor and mentor a lot of younger musicians in Nigeria?

Yes. I still do. I have a foundation, the King Sunny Adé Foundation, that goes into schools and donates musical instruments and gives out scholarships. This year we gave out 63 scholarships - 63 for my age! [laughs] And these scholarships aren't just for music, but for all subjects, too.

Of course, I think it's important, in my country, to preserve musical traditions by fostering young talent. I sometimes buy them instruments and record them, too. I've been very fortunate in my life, and it's important to give back and show the young generation that we Nigerians can make a living playing our music for the world.