Hakumba Bring Joy to Mothership Slipway

“We’re just trying to bring happiness to people’s lives.”

Dorka Foster, frontperson of Hungarian Afrobeat orchestra Hakumba, smiles as she tells me this. Yet, beneath her grin there is an unmistakable seriousness.

It is only two days after her project’s rhapsodic performance at Marrickville’s Mothership Slipway on January 30th, presented by CG Discs and Jazz Doof. With an armoury of instruments and profound enthusiasm, the eleven-piece had enraptured the sold-out audience. All concerns of life outside the venue had disappeared. Replaced only with the thrill of moving to the music.

Now, over a coffee, Foster reflects on the importance of this energy her band is able to create.

“I think it has always been a big aim of Hakumba to create a space and time where people can forget about their shit and just feel easy,” she tells me. “Where you can just recharge through the experience and have a bit more energy for the next day.”

Yet, creating these spaces – especially in Hungary – at times comes at a cost.

“The crazy thing is, we play this happy music, but behind closed doors the band can still be really pessimistic…” Foster continues. “It’s really difficult to be an artist in Hungary now. People struggle just to stay alive, spend money and build futures. Because of that, in our generation we struggle to find motivation to do things like chase success as an artist.”

So, given the opportunity to travel and play music through an Australian summer, the band leaped at the chance. Not only to escape the European winter, but as a reprieve from the pessimism of Hungarian politics.

Now, approaching the end of this month-long tour, the flautist says she can see a clear change in her bandmates’ attitudes.

“They are literally blossoming and glowing!” She grins – her tone noticeably brighter. “I’ve never seen them like this before… They’re just so happy. And I can feel that on stage as well. Everyone is so loose and just having the best time!”

This may be the product of the warmth Hakumba has received from the audiences at their shows. It could also be due to the friendships they have made as they have been driven up and down the coast on a modified forty-seat bus – welcomed to sleep on various couches and floors. Or it might be a response to the beach-filled days and late-night parties an Australian summer naturally brings.

Whatever its cause, by the time the eleven-piece mounted the stage at Mothership Slipway, there was no mistaking their happiness.

Before them, the narrow alley was packed full of people. A market stall selling clothes sat opposite a makeshift bar, and at the entrance a pizza kitchen spilled the warm aroma of cooking food into the waning summer afternoon.

With their set list customised to cater for a party, Hakumba’s performance began with pace.

Fast, groovy bass rolled through the elastic tones of an electric guitar. Drums – more rock and punk inspired than jazz – careered beneath the frantic pulses of piano. Percussion bounced off the beat with energy and, atop it all, a league of saxophonists (alto, tenor, and baritone) combined with a trumpeter, and Foster on flute to project triumphant melodies into the now feverishly dancing audience.

It was the type of music you could not resist succumbing to. The band built such brilliant tension into their songs – slowing to serene moments of pure horns – before erupting again into what seemed an ever-increasing pace. Then, when the horns took centre stage, the rhythm section would dance among themselves, or – in one exceptional moment – instruct the audience to dance along with them.

Lyrics – mostly sung by Foster and the guitarist beside her ‘Zazi’ – changed between hip-hop, Hungarian folk, and loud jolts of bellowed English – chorused by the horn section yelling ecstatically into their instrument microphones.

If the performance had never ended, we would have all happily danced forever. But after an hour of constant energy, the band was reluctantly told they had to finish.

“Okay,” Foster laughed into her mic, “We’re going to play one more song… But it’s going to be long as!”

As this final song ploughed into the alley, it carried such furious energy the crowd had no choice but to descend into a heaving mosh. Shouts of laughter and excitement were hurled high above the music, and after an ecstatic winding saxophone solo, the hurtling beat of the drums threw the tenor-sax player off the stage. He was heaved above our heads and carried until finally, as the song ended, he was lowered to the ground to applause.

Every member of the band was beaming.

And so were we.