Ghanaian Music Pioneer Ata Kak Returns with Batakari, His First Album in 30 Years

Ata Kak knows he is not like anyone else. It’s an ethos he lives by and works hard, in his personal and artistic life, to maintain. It’s also the sensibility that guides his irreverent, genre-defying music and unpredictable artistic process. “I always want to be me and that is why I refuse to be influenced or to fit into something else,” the Ghanaian singer, rapper, and writer tells OkayAfrica. This sentiment is especially poignant as Ata Kak recently released his second album, Batkari, decades after his first, Obaa Sima, released in 1994.

With his debut album Obaa Sima, Ata Kak established a strong, particular voice. It was a voice that blended forms — highlife, electro, rap, and hiplife — and moved through time periods, the ‘80s to the ‘90s. During the making of Obaa Sima, Ata Kak was also deeply grounded and influenced by a life lived in other places, including Germany, Canada, and Ghana. Conversely, his new album was made entirely in his hometown of Kumasi, where he now spends his days.

In Batakari, Ata Kak says he was instructed by the stories and lore in his surroundings, one of which birthed the title of the album. In Northern Ghana, Batakari refers to a traditional smock. Expansively, it’s a symbol of power and protection, and is often referred to as a “war shirt.” 

“I likened it to my songs because every time you buy Batakari, even though it's the same design, you would love it because it's always new. That's what I want my songs to be,” Ata Kak admits, similar in form yet delightfully refreshing.

In Batakari, Ata Kak perfects the skill of consistent repetition and musical experimentation. In songs like the eponymous “Batakari,” the English language is mangled and flipped so that it blends into an entirely new language that Ata Kak semi-invented. In songs like “DJ,” Ata Kak maintains that repetitive flow, trumpets, and subtle funk elements. Such is the undebated and fluid approach to his music, and what has made him an underground but immensely respected musical genius.

“My kind of genre is different because we have millions of musicians, and one thing I've noticed, especially with the younger generation, is that they tend to copy themselves, and I always want to distance myself from this, so that I don't copy anybody, but I wouldn't mind if somebody else copies me.”

The beginnings

Born Yaw Atta-Owusu in 1960, Ata Kak didn’t have a musical background, but he was raised on highlife music, a genre that remains crucial to his musical practice. After releasing his debut album to a low reception, it would find new life and a global audience when American musicologist Brian Shimkovitz shared it as his first post on his music blog Awesome Tapes From Africa. That album, Shimkovitz says, is what inspired ATFA.

“I was quite surprised when I first played the Ata Kak tape. It was sitting in a box for a while, sort of forgotten. It sounded immediately surprising in the context of the Ghanaian pop music I had heard over the previous couple of years,” Shimkovitz, whose label is behind Ata Kak’s newest album, says. “This was around 2006, and highlife and hiplife had a certain electronic sound, but something quite different from the more rugged and ecstatic style I heard on Obaa Sima. I thought, ‘This is something really distinctive.’”

Ata Kak’s discography, though sparse, has found resonance amongst many young people. This resonance can be linked to a number of factors, including its vibrancy, its disregard for rules, and its future-facing compositions.

“The first time I heard Ata Kak was on a quiet night at my best friend’s house in 2021. I didn’t know what to expect from her explanation, and then that sound hit me. It was wild, foreign, and hyperactive,” Dedoja Duroshola, an artist and huge fan of Ata Kak, explains. “After, she put on the short film from Awesome Tapes From Africa, watching his story unfold, how he created this wild, fearless fusion long before the world was ready for it struck something deep in me. The way he made music without compromise, without waiting for validation, without flattening his eccentricity to fit a trend. It was inspiring in a way that stayed with me.”

Ata Kak admits and adheres to that code of zero validation. It’s a rare position to occupy in an industry powered and designed around validation, from peers to fans. While working on Batakari, he drew inspiration from the northern part of Ghana. 

“I had to use their kind of language even though I don't understand it. Batakari is very, very unique to me, just as I always want my songs to be unique.”

Ata Kak has a fascinating perspective on influence. He is averse to replicating existing sounds, at a time when that is the easiest route to take, perhaps because, through music, Ata Kak is wholly and completely himself. “I chose to be different because music is dynamic, and you can't be listening to the same thing over and over and over again. There ought to be something different in the system, and that is why I chose to be different. I had to know how to program my rhythms because if you listen carefully to my music, it's focused on rhythm more than the lyrics. I choose musical instruments that sound a little bit off, a little bit awkward in the ears of people. And that's the uniqueness that I usually search for.”

“I heard him right when we were planting the early seeds of the community that eventually became our electronic music scene,” Dedoja says. “Watching his story opened something in me. He was ahead of his time, proof that visionary work doesn’t need immediate validation. He created without compromise, making sound that was raw, free, and completely his own. That fearlessness encouraged how I approached building our world. His rediscovery showed the power of cultural archiving; without preservation, his brilliance might’ve vanished.”

But a sweeping look at Ata Kak’s mission will reveal something simple: he wants us all to move. “My whole thing is, once you listen to my song, you cannot sit down unless you are probably dead. You listen to my song, it doesn't matter what track, if you are young, whether you are a baby or old, or whatever it is, female or male. You will either nod your head to the rhythm, snap your finger to the rhythm, tap your feet to the rhythm, and if you are old, you may be tempted to stand up and dance to Ata Kak.”