Listening Post 337. At the junction of multiple roads you often see signs pointing in many directions, and Batila’s debut solo album is a crossroads of sorts. Son of Congolese and Angolan parents, he was raised in Germany and England and now lives in Berlin, but his destination is more about identity—encompassing freedom, cultural integrity and Black love—than a place on the map. His signs are esoteric but he invites us in: Batila, his name, is Kikongo for “one who protects and holds together;” Tatamana means “hold on to what you love,” the title appearing on the album cover in Latin letters and also the Mandombe script created for Central African languages. And the traditional Congolese mask in the artist’s hands represents beauty and strength. Symbols aside, Tatamana is about the journey of a diaspora African channeling personal and social commentary into engaging songs. Singing in Lingala and English, he touches on struggle and spirituality, understanding and prejudice, frustration and resilience, in what he calls Bantu Soul, a musical junction of genres that includes Afrobeat, reggae, jazz and hip hop. In Kindoki (Witchcraft, video 1), Batila invokes his ancestors as he seeks the wisdom stripped away by Africa’s colonial overlords; while in Ba Nzambe Ya Se (Gods on Earth, video 2) he extols his parents for their guidance and sacrifice. Naboyi (I Refuse, video 3) rejects foreign spirituality, and Afreekan (video 4) seeks paradise on firm ground rather than in the clouds. And a lilting merengue beat makes Awa (I Am Crying, video 5) one of the album’s standout love songs. Early in his career Batila headed a hip-hop band, wrote songs for soukous legend Papa Wemba and worked with an array of German artists, all leading toward Tatamana junction. The signs point to many things and one conclusion: Worthy is the son who honors his heritage by venturing forth and enlarging it.