Disintegration and Interpretability in Non-Western Music

This clip is taken from the documentary, Ginger Baker in Africa. In it, Fela Kuti performs with his Afrika '70 band in the city of Calabar, Nigeria. The performance takes place in 1971, shortly after the Nigerian Civil War, and the scene is a truly amazing spectacle. Rain pours from the sky, but it can do nothing to dampen the electrical energy of his performance. Wild-eyed and proud, Fela dominates the floor. Around him, scantily clad women gyrate in ecstasy, their bodies dripping wet. At the end, one of the musicians starts rolling around on the ground in a convulsive fit while Fela slaps his back. It looks like the religious experience of someone who has been seized by a divine encounter with the sublime.

To give a little background information on the politically charged and controversial history of Fela Kuti's music, I've excerpted the following from his Wikipedia article:

Fela Anikulapo Kuti was a Nigerian multi-instrumentalist musician and composer, pioneer of Afrobeat music, human rights activist, and political maverick . . . After Fela and his band returned to Nigeria, the band was renamed The Africa '70, as lyrical themes changed from love to social issues. He then formed the Kalakuta Republic, a commune, a recording studio, and a home for many connected to the band that he later declared independent from the Nigerian state . . . Fela also changed his middle name to Anikulapo (meaning "he who carries death in his pouch"), stating that his original middle name of Ransome was a slave name . . . As popular as Fela's music had become in Nigeria and elsewhere, it was also very unpopular with the ruling government, and raids on the Kalakuta Republic were frequent . . . In 1977 Fela and the Afrika '70 released the hit album Zombie, a scathing attack on Nigerian soldiers using the zombie metaphor to describe the methods of the Nigerian military. The album was a smash hit with the people and infuriated the government, setting off a vicious attack against the Kalakuta Republic, during which one thousand soldiers attacked the commune. Fela was severely beaten, and his elderly mother was thrown from a window, causing fatal injuries. The Kalakuta Republic was burned, and Fela's studio, instruments, and master tapes were destroyed. Fela claimed that he would have been killed had it not been for the intervention of a commanding officer as he was being beaten.

Now, simmer on that while you watch the following clip from a 2009 Broadway production of Fela! :

It's almost painful to watch, isn't it? Someone had the brilliant idea to appropriate Fela's music for commercial consumption in a milieu almost certainly made to appeal to -- let's face it -- white people. The music, the dancing, the traditional African garb are all there, but the production itself is sterile, inoccuous, boring. The gesture has been completely de-politicized and what's left is nothing but an empty husk. Watch and listen to the way the female vocalist performs. Her gestures and gesticulations are so dramatically contrived. You can also tell she's received formal voice training -- this, and her emphatic pronunciation of every word she sings, contrast starkly with the original music. You can hear contemporary Western influences in the way she sings, but not in the instrumental music itself, which all lends to create a really cringe-worthy experience.

What do you guys think of this contrast? Is Fela rolling in his grave or what?