Tall, light in complexion, and handsome, Ignace Mpoyi Kanyinda had a charming look that made him a star attraction in all OK Jazz (OKJ) concerts that he graced. Women scrambled for space to catch a closer glimpse, while some screamed in excitement. That wasn’t all about Djo Mpoyi, however. Behind the looks was a wonderful singer with an expressive high tenor that uniquely laced compositions with emotion.
Bolingo ebeti ngai fimbo, oh mama ah, (This love is battering me) Ngai naleli eh, oh mama ah (It makes me cry) Nazangi molongani, oh cheri eh (Deprives me of a confidante)
This is an excerpt from the song “Nabali Misere,” which translates to “I am married to misery.” These words wouldn’t have captured the theme so perfectly if they were sung by another vocalist, because it took Djo Mpoyi to bring out the true emotion in a song. In this case, he clearly conveys the frustrations of the married woman.
Examples abound. The song “Mbongo” was composed by Simaro Lutumba. It was rehearsed and performed several times with Ndombe Opetum on the vocals. It was Ndombe who had been identified as the lead vocalist for this solo piece, typical of other musical poems by Simaro. However, by the time the song reached the studio, Ndombe had already quit OK Jazz for Afrisa; thus, the task was assigned to the new kid on the block, Djo Mpoyi.
He didn’t disappoint. He belted his heart out in the song: “Nkelani nakeyi kobina lindanda ya Luambo, nazali na mvuka ya mutu te” (Nkelani, I am going to dance to Luambo’s guitar because I do not owe anyone anything.)
This line hammers the theme home. After discussing how money has become the focal point in life, with almost every activity revolving around it, it is only right for him to conclude by stating that dancing to Luambo’s music while owing no one money meant one is free. In a way, it suggests that debts can hold one captive and deny them the free will to enjoy themselves.
The same depth is found in the hit song “Kadima,” a poetic expression of affection for a woman, and “Mandola,” another poem by Simaro, capturing the realities of life in a philosophical composition. The same can be said of “Bolingo ya Moite Moite,” “Katebe,” and others.
In the song “Hommage à Franco,” this unique ability of Mpoyi comes into play even more prominently. The line urging sculptor Professor Maître Liyolo to create a monument for Franco Luambo Makiadi brings the reality of Franco’s death closer.
When the song was performed for the first time with the band, Mpoyi himself couldn’t hold back the tears. The same happened to Lukunku, the TeleZaire MC and Franco’s friend, who became too overwhelmed to handle the interview and had to hand over the microphone to Kayumbi. Lines like “Franco, oboyi nakuta yo, oboyi kozela samedi ngai nalingaki koya” wouldn’t have carried as much weight if they were delivered by another musician.
In the hit song “Celio,” he is paired with Malage de Lugendo in a duet so seamless that it is difficult for an untrained ear to realize that those are actually two voices alternating verses.
Mpoyi was born in Burundi on September 23rd, as his son Eric Mpoyi told Jabulani. Eric is also a musician and a gifted vocalist with a voice strikingly similar to his father’s. Although it was at OKJ that his star shone brightest, Mpoyi had made remarkable achievements long before joining. He was eventually brought to OKJ by Celi Bitshou, the Brazzavillan who played bass for both OKJ and Orchestre Veve.
Djo Mpoyi began his career as a teenager with Orchestra Jamal. This band was a "kindergarten" that nurtured several would-be superstars. Mpoyi also sang with Orchestra Saka Yonsa of Mbole Tambwe. It is with this outfit that he recorded songs like “Cheri Kazadi,” “Libala Ezangi Bolingo,” “Mayi Doda,” “Kumba,” and “Azalaka Occupée.”
He later teamed up with Lovy in his new band, Orchestre Super Lovy. Remember, Lovy, a founder of OKJ, had left Franco’s band in 1972 to form his own outfit. This band also featured Celi Bitshou. Contrary to the popular misconception that Mpoyi had joined another band after Lovy Du Zaire, the band actually rebranded to Kara du Zaïre. There, Mpoyi teamed up with Kiyika Masamba, solo guitarist Syran Mbenza, and bassist Pablo Lubadika.
While at Super Lovy, he composed a song called “Helicopter,” which was sung by Djo Mpoyi and his colleague Lukoki Diatho. The song became an instant hit, and Franco sent his scouts to trace the duo. This is how both Lukoki and Mpoyi arrived at OKJ in 1977. Mpoyi’s first assignment at OKJ was “Libala ya Bana na Bana,” a composition by Lola Djangi.
At OKJ, his career flourished. He teamed up with the "sharks of the ocean" that define Congolese rumba: Franco himself, Simaro, Josky, Aime Kiwakana, Papa Noël, Thierry Mantuika, Ndombe Opetum, and Gerry Dialungana.
Simaro, in an interview with Afriquechos magazine, recalled the recruitment:
“I really appreciated his vocal timbre. The day we were preparing to leave for Europe, I saw him enter with Diatho Lukoki at Un Deux Trois, and I told Franco, ‘Here is the singer I was telling you about.’ Franco asked me the same day to propose that he travel with us. In Brussels, during our first concert at the Salle Madeleine, Jo Mpoy gained a lot of success, especially among female fans.”
During OKJ’s first post-Franco concert, Lukunku Sampu described Mpoyi as one of the musicians who was very close to Franco. Tragically, Mpoyi died in September 1993 and was buried in Gombe Cemetery. Even with the subsequent emergence of top-notch singers, the DRC is yet to find such a rich tenor that soulfully delivers emotion in every note.
BY: JEROME OGOLA