BACK ON TOP: Sam Mangwana is typical of the current Congo scene - a '60s veteran who prefers classic songs, acoustic guitars, and hand percussion to Paris-style electronic beats.

Dubbed "rumba" in the 1950s, "soukous" and "kwassa kwassa" in the pumped-up ’80s, and "ndombolo" in the hip-hop-tinged ’90s, the all-powerful dance music of Congo has hit another creative peak. This is surprising, first because the Democratic Republic of Congo, where most of the genre’s musicians originate, is more or less a political basket case, but also because for years now, aficionados have been declaring Congo music dead from asphyxiation in the sterile recording studios of Paris. But now, there’s a growing revival movement afoot, as survivors of the music’s glory days return to old repertoire, acoustic instrumentation, and stripped-down band line-ups to produce some of the most appealing recordings in today’s African pop. New work by veteran singer Sam Mangwana, a collaborative group of old-timers called Kekele, and a recently uncovered Kinshasa outfit called Rumbanella Band lead a rich crop of throwback releases this year. Meanwhile, today’s stars, like Werra Son and the older but ever-hip Koffi Olomide, battle for the loyalties of young listeners with dizzying exercises in hypercreativity. Through it all, workmanlike singer-composers like Reddy Amisi continue to produce straight-ahead Congo dance pop, refining their art without resort to retro stylings or clownishness. In all, it’s one hell of a party, and there’s something for every taste.

Congo music began in the cities of Kinshasa and Brazzaville, which face one another across the Congo River. Bands like African Jazz, Franco and TPOK Jazz, and African Fiesta started the ball rolling in the ’50s when they moved away from playing straight covers of popular Cuban son music and localized the sound using guitars in place of piano and interweaving horn section passages, lead singers, and harmonized choral backing in the Lingala language. Youth bands of the ’60s, like Zaiko Langa Langa, dropped the horns, beefed up the percussion with punchy trap-set drumming, and generally revved the music up to rock-and-roll decibel and energy levels. Next came the high-gloss, high-tech Paris productions of the ’80s, and then the noisy, fractured hodge-podge of the ’90s, which some view as evidence of a musical genre imploding.

The massive, worldwide success of the Buena Vista Social Club inevitably inspired a Congo-music revival movement. What is remarkable is that though no Oscars, Grammys, or sales records have buoyed this movement, it has continued to grow. Hence this year’s richly satisfying fare. A leader in the revival effort has been singer-composer Sam Mangwana, whose career goes back to the early ’60s. In three recent releases, Mangwana returns to acoustic guitars, hand percussion, intimate band chemistry in place of electronic beats, and tasteful reworkings of classic songs, like "Fati Mata," which finds yet another irresistible incarnation on his new Cantos de Esperança (Sono). Mangwana originally came to the Congo as an immigrant from Angola, which had been a Portuguese colony, and he explores his Lusaphone roots on two songs here, including the title track, which melds Kinshasa’s rumba sensibility with the sultry Cape Verdean morna popularized by Cesaria Évora.

For sheer production values, the top prize in the revival category has to go to Kekele, whose second release, Congo Life (Stern’s Africa), is a sonic masterpiece, with every soaring voice, every snap and sizzle of percussion, and every gleaming acoustic guitar note — most of them from the great Syran Mbenza — vivid and in perfect balance. Four veteran vocalists — Wuta-Mayi, Nyboma, Bumba Massa, and Loko Massengo — trade off lead roles throughout these 11 tracks, and they join forces to add brilliant choral backing elsewhere. Most of the songs are new, and the conventions of the past are not so much re-created as honored, but always with a difference: tasty accordion spicing from Regis Gizavo of Madagascar or all-clarinet horn section breaks played by Caçau de Queiroz.

Nyboma’s soaring tenor voice is especially pleasing here, particularly on "Issake Shango," which unfolds from a mid-tempo vocal showcase to a concise, lively jam topped by Syran’s brisk acoustic-guitar work. With the exception of one 6/8 number, "Oyebi Bien," contributed by guest guitarist Rigo Star, the grooves are pretty relentlessly rumba, of the 1960s Kinshasa variety, but there are some excursions into more characteristically Cuban sounds as well. The violins on Loko Massengo’s "Bebe Yaourt" evoke charanga. And Wuta Mayi’s "Affaire Mokuwa" hits with the strong feeling of son.

Maybe the best track on Congo Life is a medley of Franco hits called "Souvenirs: OK-Jazz." The great Congo rumba of the ’50s and ’60s transformed pop music in Africa, but most of it was poorly recorded and preserved, so one attraction of these revival efforts is hearing beloved oldies rendered in high fidelity. A preponderance of classic songs is one reason why my favorite new revival release is El Congo: Rumba Congolaise (Marabi), essentially an album by Rumbanella Band with a few tracks by septuagenarian icons Wendo Kolosoy and Antoine Moundanda thrown in.

I went to Kinshasa last year to watch this record being made. It was produced simultaneously with Amba (World Village) by Wendo Kolosoy, who made his first hit in 1948 and is arguably the seminal figure in the early rumba movement. Both sessions were recorded by a French engineer in a simple digital studio, compromised by arbitrary power cuts, daily rainstorms, beat-up instruments, and noisy amplifiers. The production values can’t compete with Kekele’s, but the sound is more than adequate, and the performances priceless. During the recording, the focus was on the venerable Wendo, and the Rumbanella Band project felt a bit like an afterthought, but now that all is said and done, El Congo is the must-have release.

Rumbanella Band is a small, no-frills outfit led by guitarist/singer Madou Mulowayi, lead-guitarist Kankonde Joseph (a/k/a Serpent), and singer Lola Bivuatu. They’re all vets in good standing, though the lineages will be obscure for those who don’t follow Congo music closely. What is not obscure is the spot-on vocal harmonies, the lilting rhythms, and especially Serpent’s cagy, angular, electric-guitar work. The atmosphere of the old material comes though here, perhaps because these tracks were recorded live in the studio with few takes or overdubs by musicians who have never left the Congolese milieu to make comfortable lives in Europe, as have all the principals in Kekele.

On Rumbanella’s signature tune, "El Congo," a little electric-guitar riff and a quick tumble of percussion drops into the sweetest, most melodious male vocal harmonies anywhere, and they’re grounded by the undertow tug of rumba clave. The magic continues with two vintage numbers by Tabu Ley Rochereau and then "Ngalula," a vocal standout from the African Fiesta Sukisa repertoire. Jean Bosco Mwenda’s classic "Masanga Djiya" revisits the folksy, troubadour guitar and vocal music that preceded urban rumba. Madou Mulowayi accompanied Mwenda for 10 years near the end of the legend’s life and so is well equipped to deliver a rich, memorable rendition here. Finally, Muamba Dechaud’s "Africa Mikili Mobimba" plays as an anthem of the Congo’s post-independence rumba movement, an expression of optimism untainted by the sadness and disappointment that have unfolded there ever since.

Fast-forward to the latest concoction by the most popular Congolese artist today, Werra Son, and you begin to appreciate the breadth of this genre. À la Queue Leu-Leu (JPS France) is, like many of the big new releases, a double CD, offering an exhausting barrage of material, some of it wonderfully creative, some of it puffed-up and redundant. The lead track, "Ligne II," launches right in with shouting, talking, singing, jamming, and shifting beats, all in the first two minutes of this two-hour-plus extravaganza. And Son’s group, Wenge Musica Maison Mère (not to be confused with rival band Wenge Musica BCBG), are capable of reprising the sounds of the preceding three generations of Congo music. "Salsister" is a taut, punchy take on the old rumba sound. But in the new music, everything is fractured and interrupted. Grooves, keys, and sound textures shift all the time, as if reflecting a society where one never knows what is coming next.

Another towering figure on the contemporary scene is poet/singer/bandleader Koffi Olomide, who with his band Quartier Latin won four awards at last year’s Kora Music awards, more or less the African Grammys. Olomide’s new Affaire d’État (Sono) is another sprawling double disc full of gimmicks and musical ruses veering from swirling distorted guitar boogie to lavish keyboard rumba. Olomide, who is as apt to talk in his deep, resonant semi-whisper as he is to sing, is an icon of this music, but for my money, there’s more musicality on display on Voodoo (Sono), a new single-CD release by Quartier Latin Integral, a recent split-off from Koffi’s band. (The competition in Congo music is dire: defections and betrayals are so common that unity among the top artists is about as likely as lasting peace among Congo’s chronically warring political factions.) Voodoo features the frenetic ndombolo arranging style and lots of boisterous chanting, but the band kick and the songs feel like songs. The flow of "Play Boy" is typical, moving through melodious vocal work into joyful animation and winding up with neat, elegant guitar playing layered with lush choral vocals and an "animateur" whispering deeply in a vaguely Koffi-like manner.

For those in search of middle ground, something less nutty than ndombolo but still contemporary, Reddy Amisi’s Compteur à Zero (Sono) is a find. The basic tracks were recorded in Kinshasa — featuring guitars more than keyboards and mixing acoustic and electric sound — and then dressed up in Paris to give the production a pleasing sheen. Amisi is a gifted composer and singer, and though he does nothing new or unexpected here, he hits this genre’s high points and avoids all the pitfalls. The result is soul-satisfying dance music that stands up to a lot of listening, and really, what more can one ask?