4To the rhythms of the world : the 1980s

In London, reggae had been hugely popular ever since Bob Marley gave his first concerts there. Originally from Jamaica, this distinctive style became a global music synonymous with liberation and revolt. These back-and-forth movements between local and global scenes shaped a new musical and urban geography: the emergence of a culture born in the Bronx, hip hop, benefited from the dynamism of both Afro nightclubs and community centers.

These musical styles helped give Paris and London their identities as global cities: the original sounds produced, heard, and circulated there echoed the rhythms of the world. Musicians, along with political actors of the time, harnessed this effervescence by organizing major events such as the 1989 bicentennial parade of the French Revolution on the Champs-Élysées or the Mandela Day concert at Wembley Stadium the year before.

A new atmosphere

Carried by emblematic figures such as Fela Kuti, Salif Keita, Youssou N'Dour, and Manu Dibango, new musical scenes emerged in Paris and London. Around jazz, afrobeat, and what soon came to be called “world music,” a new geography of the two capitals took shape, with its recording studios, production companies, and performance venues.

At Le Palace, an emblematic Parisian nightclub, Grace Jones, born in Jamaica and based in Paris, opened the festivities. In London, the Electric Ballroom energized the heart of Camden with its rock, punk, and 2-Tone (a ska-derived genre) concerts. Other venues outside the capitals also became essential, such as La Main Bleue in Montreuil, where members of the La Sape (Société des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Élégantes) made their mark.

From protest countercultures, artistic productions linked to migration increasingly came to be viewed as avant-garde. The language shifted: less talk of “migrations,” more of “diasporas”; less of “radical culture,” more of “trendy culture.” Parisian and London nightlife eagerly embraced these new figures who contributed to the international aura of both capitals, while artists themselves frequently featured images of the French and British capitals on their album covers.

The utopia of the “Global sound” (Sono-mondiale")

Public enthusiasm and record industry interest in these new musical scenes quickly attracted political attention. Large-scale events were organized in which the multicultural identities of Paris and London became highly visible, helping transform these former imperial capitals into global metropolises.

To celebrate the 200th anniversary of the French Revolution, François Mitterrand chose to project the image of a France open to the world, notably through a grand parade orchestrated by Jean-Paul Goude. In London, the concert organized in tribute to Nelson Mandela on June 11, 1988, established the London scene as a privileged space for challenging racial injustice through music.

Artists from the Rock Against Racism movement were present, such as Jerry Dammers of The Specials. They were joined by musicians like Salif Keita and Youssou N'Dour, who had become key figures in such events, as well as major international stars, including Eric Clapton—despite his racist remarks in 1976. This illustrates the normalization of such events in Britain, even as the concert was banned by the government of South Africa.

The bicentenary of the Revolution

For the bicentenary of the French Revolution, François Mitterrand organized a series of events, including a grand parade of “La Marseillaise,” created by Jean-Paul Goude with musical direction by Wally Badarou. Watched by 800 million television viewers worldwide, the event concluded with a performance of La Marseillaise by the American soprano Jessye Norman at Place de la Concorde.

The parade was a major popular success: 800,000 spectators attended the lavish spectacle, in which “tribes” from around the world staged a vision of a globalized and multicultural world. African artists were prominently featured, parading to the sound of drums. Yet the event also highlighted the dilemma of the French republican model, caught between a global, multicultural outlook and the reality of a plural France that was not always fully accepted.

Mandela Day

“One humanity, one justice,” declared Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits on June 11, 1988, to a packed Wembley Stadium, at the end of an 11-hour concert broadcast by the BBC and more than 60 television networks worldwide in tribute to Nelson Mandela, imprisoned since 1962.

Throughout the 1980s, music served the anti-apartheid cause: in 1983, the African Sounds concert was held at Alexandra Palace, and in 1986, British Artists Against Apartheid gathered more than 200,000 people for a festival in Clapham Common. The Wembley “mega-concert” also followed in the footsteps of major international solidarity concerts such as Live Aid.

At a time when the Thatcher government refused to impose sanctions on South Africa, the aim of the event was to amplify mobilization against apartheid by reshaping Mandela’s public image. Far from the “terrorist” label attributed to him by certain authorities, he was presented as the symbol of a South African people resisting oppression—a message the London music scene helped project onto the international stage.

As early as 1981, Radio Nova became the loudspeaker for this musical wave arriving from all corners of the globe. Later, Bintou Simporé, through her Sunday show Néo Géo, explored the least charted musical territories at a time when English-language record executives were promoting the label “World Music” to better market productions that did not fit neatly into record store categories. Abundant and politically engaged, inclusive and festive, curious and irreverent, the music of the sono-mondiale marked a golden age of “living together.”

Urban Sounds

When rap reached the French scene, the country had just brought the left to power. At the same time, the punk wave was sweeping in from London, widely covered by the French music press, which paid little attention to New York hip-hop. At first, rap referred merely to a rhythmic speaking technique — “to rap” loosely translating as “to chat” or “to talk fast.”

In late November 1982, young Parisians discovered the reality of American rap during the New York City Rap tour at the Bataclan. DJs, dancers, rappers, and graffiti artists showcased the freshness of their artistic mastery. The troupe was led by beat pioneer Afrika Bambaataa, founder of the Zulu Nation. Initiated by journalist Bernard Zekri and promoted by Alain Maneval on Europe 1, the event highlighted artists whose youth and commitment contrasted sharply with commercial professionalism.

Unlike punk, hip-hop projected a positive message and explicitly championed racial equality. Young people in neighborhoods with large Afro-descendant populations quickly embraced this form of expression. Their role models appeared on the weekly TV show Hip-Hop on TF1. From 1984 to 1985, host Sydney, formerly of Radio 7, led the program for 42 weeks, drawing a large and passionate teenage audience.

From Paris underground scenes to the success of suburban rap

Initially confined to certain Parisian venues, rap gradually moved beyond the underground as it gained media exposure. It was adopted by young people from working-class neighborhoods and suburbs. The movement organized itself in the American style around the “posse,” a tightly knit group rooted in a specific territory.

In Paris, collectives such as Aktuel Force, Paris City Breakers (PCB), and Atomic emerged, nurturing future members of groups like Assassin, Ministère A.M.E.R., and NTM. Territorial identity became central, prompting local authorities and cultural institutions to take notice.

In 1989, the French branch of the Zulu Nation, IZB (Incredible Zulu Boys), reinterpreted its acronym as “Intégration des Zones Banlieusardes” (Integration of Suburban Areas), reflecting the complex interplay between hip-hop and institutions. While institutions promoted dancers and graffiti artists within contemporary art spaces, they often kept more subversive voices at arm’s length.

By the early 1990s, rap was ripe for commercialization. At the same time, it became framed as a media “mouthpiece” for suburban youth, particularly as public authorities grappled with socio-economic challenges in these areas. Under the banner of “urban cultures,” rap — combining dance, music, and visual arts — gained increasing visibility.

New urban scenes in England

In the mid-1980s, a new musical current emerged: acid house, explicitly referencing the popular new drug of the time. A distinctly British subgenre of house music — itself born in the industrial spaces of Detroit and Chicago — acid house first spread in clubs in London and Manchester, such as the Trip and the famous The Haçienda, before expanding into large-scale rave parties on city outskirts.

At these massive gatherings, inspired by sound-system culture, music blasted through powerful audio setups, with DJs acting as both selectors and entertainers. One of the early hits was created by A Guy Called Gerald, a young British producer of Jamaican origin. His track Voodoo Ray became one of the UK’s best-selling singles of 1989.

Despite close surveillance by authorities and critical media coverage, the movement flourished. In the early 1990s, new styles emerged, including jungle, drawing from reggae and hip-hop roots. Some house musicians experimented further, blending dub, rock, and bhangra, as exemplified by the London-based group Asian Dub Foundation.

Meanwhile, British music explored other paths, such as R’n’B — a fusion of hip-hop, soul, and rhythm and blues — with emblematic representatives like Soul II Soul, formed by DJ Jazzie B and singer Caron Wheeler, who achieved major success from the late 1980s into the 1990s.