A term like "destiny" is great fodder for the faithful, but when you live fully in the moment and surrender to wherever a path might lead you, destiny seems to be far from a predetermined commodity. It's certainly a fitting metaphor to describe Aphrodesia's adventurous trek across the unpredictable terrain of West Africa.

Galvanized by the experience, the band rolled right out of Africa and into Oakland's Guerilla studios to record Lagos By Bus (Cyberset), the Bay Area collective's fourth album. But as the title suggests, Ghana was just one of many inspirational stops along the way. A chance encounter in an Internet cafe in the Ghanaian capital of Accra carried the band through Togo and Benin, where they performed spontaneously and sporadically before reaching the kingdom that Fela built. After arriving in Lagos, Nigeria, they were honored with a rather majestic rite of passage: opening for the Afrobeat legend's son Femi Kuti at the equally fabled New Afrika Shrine nightclub.

Now, to be straight, Aphrodesia is not, and never was, an exclusively Afrobeat band. Gale formed the outfit in 2003 with an obvious not to Nigeria's sonic staple, but immediately began incorporating elements of Afro-Cuban and highlife music into the mix, as well as funk and jazz. Even so, Aphrodesia have surfed the Afrobeat wave in America, with its musical dexterity--as first demonstrated on the style-stretching 2003 debut Shackrobeat Vol. 1--giving it an edge that other like-minded bands have often lacked.

When the band members convened in earl 2006 at San Francisco International Airport to embark on their African odyssey, it's possible they were already mulling the implications of a stop in Lagos--after all, such a visit would, in a sense, cement their status in the Afrobeat scene. And as it did on so many occasions during their journey, destiny ran its course: the fortuitous meeting with one of Fela's former musicians at the cafe in Accra led to a phone call to Femi's sister Yenni. It turned out she had heard of Aphrodesia, so she invited the group to play that coming Saturday. "There was some frantic planning and soul searching, because going to Nigeria is no easy prospect," Gale says, "but we decided to go." Five days and a few random shows later they were in Lagos.

Unquestionably nervous, Gale and his crew knew that the trip wasn't the only obstacle. With the prospect of a group of white Americans stepping into a notoriously dangerous city to play the music born there, thoughts of misread intentions and colonialist guilt crept into the tableau. As Gale recorded in his journal at the time, he had already imagined how the headlines would read in the Nigerian papers: "White Afrobeat Band With Elephant Balls Travels to Lagos, Worships At Birthplace of Afrobeat"--not an easy pill to swallow (so to speak). As it turned out, his concerns were unfounded. With the exception of a few bribes paid to the policemen at the Benin-Nigeria border--more an act of courtesy than any notable conspiracy--the band had no run-ins or problems whatsoever.

There was only one more hurdle to clear once they entered the Shrine. "There were several hundred people with arms folded," Gale recalls. The band was anxious, but musicianship quickly overtook any initial flutters. "Femi came out in the middle of the crowd and started dancing. Everyone say it and followed. Then he came on stage and played three or four songs with us on saxophone, and from then on it was a party."

That rite is completed on Lagos By Bus, which is a tribute to the journey as well as to the green bus, piloted by a man named Chambers, that whisked the band around Africa. Nine songs deep, the album is Aphrodesia's most patient and incisive effort to date. From the exquisite opening "Virgin Of The Sun God" to the politically and sonically heated "World Under Fire," the band's diversity and range is expressed in the language of brass, bass and a percussion section that would make Tony Allen dance himself into a frenzy.

The thumb piano-driven "Virgin" borrows a phrase from Peruvian opera singer Yma Sumac's "Taita Inty" (in a performance first seen by Western audiences in the 1954 Charlton Heston film Secret Of The Incas), but the two versions have little in common besides the lush percussive parts that support rich vocal takes. For this arrangement, Aphrodesia lead singer Lara Maykovich's Zimbabwean lyricism emerges the victor, while the spellbinding interplay between the mbira and the bass providing an intricate texture for her equally tantalizing voice. In fact, Maykovich's instrument proves to be one of the greatest strengths of the entire album.

This rang true in Ghana as well. One of the band's first shows was at the Ghana Arts Center, where they played the much more upbeat "Everyday" in the regional language of Ga. During the energetic performance, everyone stood silent, and when Maykovich finished the verses, a huge applause broke out. It was slightly odd to Gale, who would have expected dancing and shouting over the rather polite, albeit heartfelt, response they received. He asked the band's Ghanaian percussionist about it after the show, and he replied, "People were very surprised because they have never seen a white girl sing in Ga before."

Gale soon realized that his own cultural nuances had caused him to see the audience's reaction as one of frustration, when actually the feeling was closer to outright wonder. "The truth is that here the normal preferences of like and dislike are almost irrelevant," he wrote after an impromptu show near the Ghanaian village of Binaba. "I can't help but think that if Martians landed in Times Square and sang their version of a rock opera, the crowd might look at them the same way. Still, there were signs of enthusiasm from people here as we plowed through our set. Some of the local women came up and pasted money on Lara's forehead; when some random stranger in the crowd follow suit, it meant more than a thousand hand slaps in backstage American lounges ever could."

As is usually the case, music somehow transcends all borders, and fans both old and new will certainly dance to this memorable keepsake. "With the new Afrobeat movement, a lot of bands have fallen into just reinterpreting Fela," Gale contends. "We try to pay attention to variation and shift into different gears--we don't want to be in just one gear." Whether in one gear or many, the proof always lies in the music, making Lagos By Bus one of the most diverse and enjoyable albums of this young year of 2008.