Had a kettle on and a felt hammer in my hand when the Abeokuta boy born in 1938 came up on the radio, and it wasn't the speeches I heard, it was Tony Allen keeping that hi-hat whispering underneath everything for twelve, fifteen minutes without once leaning on you. Listen for the horns coming in late and together, like they'd been standing there the whole time. Grooves that long, you don't cut them twice. You keep the room in.
Okay, so twelve, fifteen minutes with the hi-hat never leaning on you, that's a reliever going three innings and never showing you the same arm slot twice. Tony Allen's legs had to be doing the work the whole time. Nobody claps for the guy holding the pace.
Singing in Pidgin was the wider door, Otis — Yoruba would have held one part of Nigeria, English only those who'd had the schooling, and Pidgin carried across the whole country and out along the coast. The words travel as far as the horns do.