Album Review: Nyar Yonam Atek by Apollo Komesha '71
Alright, let’s talk about Nyar Yonam Atek, the 1972 gem from Apollo Komesha '71. If you’re into raw African folk vibes with a side of soul-soothing authenticity, this one’s for you. It’s not fancy or overproduced—just pure Kenyan heart poured straight onto vinyl. The album falls under that Folk, World, & Country umbrella, but really, it’s all about its African roots. Released on Apollo’s own label (props to him for keeping it indie), the whole thing was penned by Gabriel Omolo, who clearly knew how to craft tunes that stick.
Now, I gotta shout out two tracks here: "Atek" and "Nyar Yonam." These aren’t just songs—they’re like little stories wrapped in rhythm. Let me break it down.
First up, “Atek.” Man, this track is smooth as butter. It starts off with these gentle guitar licks that feel like they’re telling you a secret only you can hear. There’s no rush; it lets you settle in before the vocals come in soft and steady. You don’t need to understand every word to get the vibe—it’s melancholic yet hopeful, like looking at old photos of people you never met but somehow love anyway. What makes it unforgettable? Probably the way it builds so subtly you don’t even realize you’re hooked until it’s too late. By then, you’re humming along like it’s been stuck in your head for years.
Then there’s “Nyar Yonam,” which hits different. This one feels more grounded, like someone sitting next to you sharing their life story over a cup of chai. The percussion has this earthy kick that pulls you right into the moment. And those harmonies? Chef’s kiss. They’re simple but layered just enough to give you goosebumps. Honestly, this track reminds me of lazy afternoons where time doesn’t matter—just good music and good company. Or maybe being lost in thought while staring at the horizon. Yeah, it’s that kind of song.
What stands out about Nyar Yonam Atek is how unpretentious it feels. It doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is—a snapshot of Kenya in the early ‘70s, told through sound. The production might feel a bit rough around the edges compared to today’s polished stuff, but that’s part of its charm. It’s real. Like, super real. No filters, no gimmicks.
Here’s the kicker though—I couldn’t stop thinking about how albums like this often get overlooked. Back in ’72, who would’ve thought some guy in Kenya strumming his guitar would still be talked about decades later? Not many folks outside his circle probably cared back then. But now? It’s like finding treasure in your grandma’s attic. Unexpected, kinda dusty, but totally worth it.
So yeah, if you stumble across Nyar Yonam Atek, give it a spin. Just don’t blame me if you end up playing “Atek” on repeat for hours. Oh, and hey—if anyone knows what “Nyar Yonam” actually means, hit me up. I’m curious AF.
