E-Mail This Article to a Friend Congotronica Konono No1 stun the world BY DAMON KRUKOWSKI

The name of the band is "L’Orchestre folklorique T.P. [tout-puissant] Likembe Konono No1 de Mingiedi." Or, as Barnum might have shortened it for American consumption, Mingiedi’s All-Powerful Konono Thumb-Piano Folklore Orchestra . . . uh . . . No1 .

That needs parsing. "Mingiedi" is Mawangu Mingiedi, now in his 70s, who comes from the region on the border between Angola and Congo, and who formed the band in Kinshasa, the capital city of what was then called Zaire, some 25 years and several political regimes ago. "All-Powerful," one is tempted to assume, is a reference to the electric nature of the ensemble, which is powered by electronics salvaged from cars and other bits of First World refuse. "Thumb Piano" is Mingiedi’s instrument; three of them — along with percussion, a whistle, and mostly shouted voices — are the foundation of the ensemble’s sound. "Konono" is the rhythm of their music, which is based on a traditional style of trance music called Bazombo — that’s the "Folklore." "Orchestra" because there are 12 people on stage, counting the dancers, which means there are as many as Arcade Fire and Talking Heads put together. And "No1"? Well, it’s not empty boast: they are not just the one, they’re the only.

Konono No1, who headline the Somerville Theatre this Friday, are a street band who have an album out because of the efforts of a Belgian. Vincent Kenis heard of the band, went to the Congo repeatedly to search for them, and then recorded their outdoor performances on a powerbook. Back in Europe, the album he put together — Congotronics — was received with interest not so much by world-music fans as by fans of electronica, industrial music, trance, and even indie rock. This past summer, Konono toured Europe on a double bill with Chicago post-rockers Tortoise.

One reason for this crossover is Konono’s bizarre combination of sounds. Their Belgian label (Crammed Discs) credits that to their idiosyncratic method of amplification, which "accidentally connected them with the æsthetics of experimental rock and electronic music." Music writers have been falling all over analogies as they’ve tried to pinpoint that connection. "Their instruments are themselves works of art brut, readymades à la Marcel Duchamp," opined France’s Libération. "Cousin to the 13th Floor Elevators’ electrified jug or John Cale’s manic viola . . . occasionally drifting close to the confused energy of Aphex Twin or Autechre, with the damaged tempo of Beefheart or Marc Ribot slithering in," said the BBC. "The best of gritty, pre-funk groove music, Day-Glo popcorn cooking in gasoline, rattling like a machine gun . . . [in] the sonic marinade of McGyver'd electronics," wrote Dusted.

So what do three thumb pianos amplified with homemade pick-ups made from magnets and projected through a PA pieced together from megaphones, car stereos, and microphones carved out of wood sound like? A cargo cult built around a Steve Reich recording and a fuzzbox. The late work of Jimmy Page, had he bought Kurtz’s mansion instead of Crowley’s. The lost McCartney solo album, recorded in the middle of a war-torn city instead of an African village. Afro-soul, had Jaki Liebezeit from Can produced in Nigeria rather than Ginger Baker. A military marching band pressed into service by a guerrilla leader. The theme music to the 4:30 movie played on a hand-cranked television. The rave that stopped the war in Angola — Cuban irregulars and CIA moles dancing together and falling in love. King Leopold’s worst nightmare (and the reason he never visited "his" Congo). A New Orleans funeral for Patrice Lumumba. An African funeral for New Orleans. House music taken outside. Electro-trash. Jello Darfur . . . You get the idea.

Konono No1 | Somerville Theatre, 55 Davis Square, Somerville | Nov 18 | 617.876.4275.