THE DANGER IN P SQUARE’S TYPE OF WAHALA
By
Lasunkanmi Bolarinwa
laskyb@yahoo.co.uk
You can almost find anything you are looking for in hip hop of the Nigerian mode. I guess this is true of the genre in other parts of the world too just as it might be true of other popular arts and social phenomenon. It is a fine combination of the pleasant and the not so pleasant. Understandable therefore is the multi layered reactions from different sectors of the society about what it does and what it should not do. For some, it is grossly antisocial and should either be legislated against or censored in a way such that some age long perception of music and its function(s) can be preserved.
One of the reasons I am not in tune with anything in the mode of such a suggestion, especially when it comes from people who do not seem to understand fully the place of art in social developments and engineering is that each time when I listen to even some of the presumably most mundane of the songs, I find it easy to make a connect and I am not sure I am a lone traveler on this path.
One of the major culprits of Nigerian hip hop music is a rhetoric that seems to be at variance with the lager society’s communicative pattern and patience to engage meaning beyond the surface. Keeping this in mind among other things, let us take a look at P Square’s Danger from an album of the same title. It has been around for about a year in the market now.
When it was fresh in the market, it did not climb easily. A number of fans expressed their disappointment based on their expectation from the previous albums of the group but as is usual for P Square, the Danger track, like all others soon became a party rocker. However, for the not too fanatic fan of this genre of music or of the artiste, there are issues still probably unresolved.
The offending part of the song is with the resonating repetition of: see me see wahala hey, wahala dey, omo wahala dey, I dey see danger, omo see danger, we dey see danger and you go see danger all taken together as a passing metaphor for something avoidable and abhorrent by a large spectrum of people.
You could hear examples of flipping the script in the use of wahala dey meaning in the literal sense, there is danger but which in this sense means wahala of a positive sense. It is the same way you flip the language when you see a young pretty girl or nice young man whom you find irresistible and would gladly say yes to or encourage to make a pass and you either mutter to yourself or open up to the girl with a pick up line that there is a problem and she is the one to solve it. It is another in the instances of verbal cleverness that stands the group out among others.
Good use of rhyme and repetition when the chorus takes the last phrase or word off the lead’s mouth and repeats in one or two of the verses such as you hear in enter, instrumental, centre, mental, yearn again, rhyme again, danger, agenda, calendar, December, defender, fender eh, surrender eh, tire eh, don tey, stranger, remember, sender helps the overall musicality.
The shock for those wary of the message of the genre is in the title of the track “danger” and the constant repetition of wahala dey all through. Ironically, you are likely to find a lot of people who ordinarily do not subscribe to the idea of seeing danger in any form, no matter how well clad still dancing to it while rejecting the message. There, the group is able to show the power of a hook in their instrumentation by creating something irresistible in the dancehall.
The song however bears testimony to the survival instincts of the musical group and its triumph even beyond the shores of Nigeria having gone to “play away matches” as evident in the number of foreign shows it had featured in especially on the African continent.
Outside of the meaning of the lyrics of the song however, I tend to ask myself when opponents of the genre use this particular music as a case study and wonder why in all the names of the good things we all profess to believe in, any sane person or group of persons would play or promote a music that obviously speaks about the predominance of danger and tend to encourage a situation of verbal and psychological violence; Is there no genuine cause to sound the alarm in a country with such dwindling official managerial fortune as ours? The danger in the real sense of the word is partly in our ability to listen to ourselves. Is there no danger when kidnapping is the general blanket that does not leave any strata of our society uncovered?
When I think of the gloom that lies ahead in terms of the present lack of positive governance and commitment to the good of all in the land, one of the tunes that come to my mind is: wahala dey. Only then, that is in a different context but can any other person see the danger? Can you?
Monday, 2 August 2010
Friday, 30 July 2010
Profanity and Nigerian Contemporary Music Unite?
Things fall apart
The centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is let loose upon the world.
-William Butler Yeats (1919): “The Second Coming.”
Our music without doubt has fallen apart, our centre of morality cannot hold because mere profanity and lyrical anarchy are let loose upon the Nigerian music industry. We wished for the astronomical growth we are now witnessing in our music world; now it is threatening to destroy some of our core values and poison the thinking of our next generation. Most of our artistes, especially those doing hip-hop and rap, now (to borrow a line in Rooftop MCs’ “Lagimo”) “sacrifice rhyming right just to rhyme tight.” Just for the sake of turning out songs that will automatically become hits, these artistes make use of different expressions, languages, messages and themes that are hardly fit for use in a society that lays emphasis on moral. Many-a societal ill is now either directly or indirectly glorified by most artistes. This leads one to be quick to ask what our regulatory agents get paid for. Is it simply to ‘siddon look’ and ban only songs that tongue-lash the government? Eedris Abdulkareem’s “Jaga-jaga” is a perfect example.
Innocent Idibia, known by all as 2face Idibia, easily strikes one as a handsome and intelligent young man. His down-to-earth nature has become a rarity among people of his age who are as rich and famous as he is. However, his randy nature which has seen him have five children from four different women is a stain on his white apparel. 2baba is even always quick to show that he is not apologetic about that fact. Listen to his collaboration with Sound Sultan and you will get the gist. “Enter the place make we see whether you no go carry belle too” is a line in the song that speaks volumes. Hardly a song you would want your 12-year old child to listen to. Even his latest – Implication – is not in any way encouraging. Certainly, gone are the days of his meaning-making songs like ‘For Instance.’
Another name that pops up on the long list is the free-madness initiator, Terry G. This artiste apart from being the exact opposite of what you would want your would-be son-in-law to look like when he comes soliciting your daughter’s hand in marriage; spreads messages that are unfit for our society. Can someone please give me a break and tell me what free-madness is? Terry G proudly glorifies alcohol and Indian hemp in most of his songs. “Shangolo” and “free me now!” are his most popular catch phrases. Recently he was accused of, most likely under the influence of these stimulants, hitting a disc jockey on the head with a bottle for playing a song by Mallam Spicey. The song is widely believed to deride his personality and the content of his songs.
When it comes to vulgarity in its entirety, only few can rival DJ Zeez! It is no exaggeration to refer to ‘Booby FC’ and ‘Fokasibe,’ (his two most played songs) as top-class profanity. The former is dedicated to girls with large sized busts while the latter is just too full of swear and abusive words. One easily wonders if its wide acceptance, especially among the youth, is a further pointer to the decadence and moral rot eating deep into the fabric of our society. You can hear kids on the street bark “ori e fokasibe” (your head is scattered in its place) at each other without even knowing the meaning. Along that line also is D’banj whose song ‘Tongolo’ was once the toast of all radio and television stations. It is needless to emphasize the meaning of “tongolo” and “koko.” There is a song in his second album titled ‘Suddenly’ in which he sang “she go say…koko yato si koko” which translates as “she will say that my ‘koko’ is different from other ‘kokos’” His Koko Mansion TV reality show which was held last year has been described in most quarters as a disgrace to youth and feminism.
It is a known fact that cyber crime has undoubtedly eaten deep into the fabric of our society today. Hundreds, if not thousands, of the youths have engaged (and are still engaging) in it. The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) is fighting tooth and nail to combat this menace but it still increases by the day at an alarming degree. What is more disturbing however is the fact that some artistes, all in the name of registering their presence in a studio, produce songs that glorify cyber crime and also boast about their ‘success’ in it. Olu Maintain came out with “Yahoozee,” Danny Young released “Mo Ti Gb’owo Yen,” while Kelly Handsome and Danny Young came out with “Maga Don Pay” and “Mo Ti Gb’owo Yen” respectively. The acclaim with which these songs were received by most young people makes me wonder if this is not a disheartening reflection of the rot in our national system. Thankfully though, this has prompted other concerned musicians to lyrically criticize the trend. Wande Coal asked ‘Who Born the Maga?’ while an assemblage of artistes like M.I, Omawunmi, Rooftop MCs and Banky-W sang ‘Maga No Need Pay.’ The track was produced by the musical guru. Chief Dele Momodu and Fela Durotoye even made guest appearances in the video of the song.
A friend who was obviously fed-up recently posted a comment on Facebook asking why 80% of our singers now sing about Hennessey, Moet, Chandon, Champagne and their likes as if that is what this life is now all about. Alcohol is fast becoming more of a curse in the lives of youths nowadays. The music industry recently lost rapper Dagrin who was involved in an auto accident allegedly caused by over-speeding resulting from drunkenness. Dagrin even in his songs mentioned his addiction to alcohol and hemp. Barely forty-eight hours later, news spread over the internet that Terry G was also involved in a minor accident along the Lagos-Ibadan expressway.
Something needs to be done and quickly too. It is hard to admit but the truth is that our generation needs a revival and a large chunk of our musicians are not helping matters. If these singers want to ruin their own lives with alcohol, drugs, women and crime, let them go ahead and do so. But then, they should ensure that they make it a point of duty to sink alone. No followers allowed!
Mode-Jimi is a Theatre Arts graduate from the University of Ibadan.
The centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is let loose upon the world.
-William Butler Yeats (1919): “The Second Coming.”
Our music without doubt has fallen apart, our centre of morality cannot hold because mere profanity and lyrical anarchy are let loose upon the Nigerian music industry. We wished for the astronomical growth we are now witnessing in our music world; now it is threatening to destroy some of our core values and poison the thinking of our next generation. Most of our artistes, especially those doing hip-hop and rap, now (to borrow a line in Rooftop MCs’ “Lagimo”) “sacrifice rhyming right just to rhyme tight.” Just for the sake of turning out songs that will automatically become hits, these artistes make use of different expressions, languages, messages and themes that are hardly fit for use in a society that lays emphasis on moral. Many-a societal ill is now either directly or indirectly glorified by most artistes. This leads one to be quick to ask what our regulatory agents get paid for. Is it simply to ‘siddon look’ and ban only songs that tongue-lash the government? Eedris Abdulkareem’s “Jaga-jaga” is a perfect example.
Innocent Idibia, known by all as 2face Idibia, easily strikes one as a handsome and intelligent young man. His down-to-earth nature has become a rarity among people of his age who are as rich and famous as he is. However, his randy nature which has seen him have five children from four different women is a stain on his white apparel. 2baba is even always quick to show that he is not apologetic about that fact. Listen to his collaboration with Sound Sultan and you will get the gist. “Enter the place make we see whether you no go carry belle too” is a line in the song that speaks volumes. Hardly a song you would want your 12-year old child to listen to. Even his latest – Implication – is not in any way encouraging. Certainly, gone are the days of his meaning-making songs like ‘For Instance.’
Another name that pops up on the long list is the free-madness initiator, Terry G. This artiste apart from being the exact opposite of what you would want your would-be son-in-law to look like when he comes soliciting your daughter’s hand in marriage; spreads messages that are unfit for our society. Can someone please give me a break and tell me what free-madness is? Terry G proudly glorifies alcohol and Indian hemp in most of his songs. “Shangolo” and “free me now!” are his most popular catch phrases. Recently he was accused of, most likely under the influence of these stimulants, hitting a disc jockey on the head with a bottle for playing a song by Mallam Spicey. The song is widely believed to deride his personality and the content of his songs.
When it comes to vulgarity in its entirety, only few can rival DJ Zeez! It is no exaggeration to refer to ‘Booby FC’ and ‘Fokasibe,’ (his two most played songs) as top-class profanity. The former is dedicated to girls with large sized busts while the latter is just too full of swear and abusive words. One easily wonders if its wide acceptance, especially among the youth, is a further pointer to the decadence and moral rot eating deep into the fabric of our society. You can hear kids on the street bark “ori e fokasibe” (your head is scattered in its place) at each other without even knowing the meaning. Along that line also is D’banj whose song ‘Tongolo’ was once the toast of all radio and television stations. It is needless to emphasize the meaning of “tongolo” and “koko.” There is a song in his second album titled ‘Suddenly’ in which he sang “she go say…koko yato si koko” which translates as “she will say that my ‘koko’ is different from other ‘kokos’” His Koko Mansion TV reality show which was held last year has been described in most quarters as a disgrace to youth and feminism.
It is a known fact that cyber crime has undoubtedly eaten deep into the fabric of our society today. Hundreds, if not thousands, of the youths have engaged (and are still engaging) in it. The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) is fighting tooth and nail to combat this menace but it still increases by the day at an alarming degree. What is more disturbing however is the fact that some artistes, all in the name of registering their presence in a studio, produce songs that glorify cyber crime and also boast about their ‘success’ in it. Olu Maintain came out with “Yahoozee,” Danny Young released “Mo Ti Gb’owo Yen,” while Kelly Handsome and Danny Young came out with “Maga Don Pay” and “Mo Ti Gb’owo Yen” respectively. The acclaim with which these songs were received by most young people makes me wonder if this is not a disheartening reflection of the rot in our national system. Thankfully though, this has prompted other concerned musicians to lyrically criticize the trend. Wande Coal asked ‘Who Born the Maga?’ while an assemblage of artistes like M.I, Omawunmi, Rooftop MCs and Banky-W sang ‘Maga No Need Pay.’ The track was produced by the musical guru. Chief Dele Momodu and Fela Durotoye even made guest appearances in the video of the song.
A friend who was obviously fed-up recently posted a comment on Facebook asking why 80% of our singers now sing about Hennessey, Moet, Chandon, Champagne and their likes as if that is what this life is now all about. Alcohol is fast becoming more of a curse in the lives of youths nowadays. The music industry recently lost rapper Dagrin who was involved in an auto accident allegedly caused by over-speeding resulting from drunkenness. Dagrin even in his songs mentioned his addiction to alcohol and hemp. Barely forty-eight hours later, news spread over the internet that Terry G was also involved in a minor accident along the Lagos-Ibadan expressway.
Something needs to be done and quickly too. It is hard to admit but the truth is that our generation needs a revival and a large chunk of our musicians are not helping matters. If these singers want to ruin their own lives with alcohol, drugs, women and crime, let them go ahead and do so. But then, they should ensure that they make it a point of duty to sink alone. No followers allowed!
Mode-Jimi is a Theatre Arts graduate from the University of Ibadan.
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Lagi Mo – Submission of the Prodigy to the Ultimate Will of God
Lasky Bee
laskyb@yahoo.co.uk
Lately, more people are expressing disappointment about the content of popular music of this age. In particular, such complaints are directed at the hip-hop genre. The allegations range from poor to outright vulgar content, to irreverence, to total lack of originality and staying power in the market.
Rooftop’s track La’gi mo has been cited as one of the examples of such music with nothing to offer the society in terms of moral. This is quite unfortunate. But reason for this may not be outside of the possibility that the music took an unusual turn in terms of arrangement and genre.
The group’s name, Rooftop, is said to have been derived from the holy bible when it says in Matthew 10:27 “What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light: and what ye hear in the ear, that preach ye upon the housetops”. It is a two man group made up of Adekunle Adeyoola aka Soulsnatcha and Olaitan Hughes also known as Sokleva.
While deep down Lagimo which, literally translates to ‘hit it with a plank of wood’, is a piece of near Christian-gospel-rap-music, it is presented in the soft rock genre which is typically associated with more ‘worldly’ music. It appears there are few rock enthusiasts in our midst and it is naturally understandable that there is little artistic motivation on the part of the listening public to go for the song.
Aside that, it also incorporates a hook from a popular Yoruba fuji Chorus: Ori mi wu o, e la’gi mo, way back in time. This also gives it a bit of a tinge of humour suggesting therefore, a gale of laughter from the Yoruba speaking listener who has not had time to sit down and soak in the content of the music. So, in it, you have a fusion of rap, rock and fuji. Quite a handful you would say.
Apart from the foregoing initial observations however, if you are careful to listen attentively, you could see the song as a call for caution in the music industry just as you could see in it a subtle warning to all whose dreams are coming true and whose careers are rising even above their expectations.
Assuming the role of the first person plural narrator, the persona in the song starts from evoking a picture of self realisation or ‘arrival’; that stage where all expectations have been met. Pictures are being taken and as the celebrities are saying ‘cheese’, they are also telling you how they are big all over the world. So big are they that while the whole world is catching their sneeze, the ladies are possibly in a swoon as they scream: ‘its Rooftop MCs.’
The narrators then jump out of the story and call the attention of the audience to see them in the spotlight when they have got all they desired. They have got more money than they can spend. They have a clothesline which seems to be one of the signs of arrival in the popular culture world. They even have their own comic titles and investments in far away Germany!
By the next line, the narrator becomes first person singular. But the story is still the same narrative of success. By the age of thirty-five, the persona already owns a private jet; has a mansion by the lake and says this is not even the beginning. By every worldly standard, this is success; the type craved for by all.
But just then, there is a jolt out of this celebration of the obscene. The narrating character feels a sense of loss of direction and correction for the sole reason that all this victory has a hollowness to it. The part of the scriptures that admonishes one to seek first the kingdom of heaven first so that other things can be added as a matter of course was recalled. So, like the prodigal son, the character’s, steps are retraced to God and it is in the ultimate submission that the character declares: Do everything to condition me Lord, as you can see that I am getting so swollen headed to claim all this glory for myself and give you no space. Please feel free to hit me on the head with a plank if that would call me to order. Thus, the seemingly offending refrain: Ori mi wu o, e la’gi mo. This is nothing but a direct call to God the almighty to take the most drastic action possible to chide me so that I can know my place.
The second verse presumes that there has been a time lapse between the first appeal and now. But is seems no change has happened. Or rather, the previous smacking has waned off and having gone astray again, the realisation has also come that God should be turned to. So the persona comes again and explains to God why the intervention is needed. It is a session of confession and admittance of guilt. The supplicant admits to a sense of confusion brought about by various addictions to polygraphs, reviews and interviews; all the razzmatazz of showbiz. The gift of music has been abused. The grace of God has been refused. There is an addiction to the lime light and instead of composing the right rhymes that could possibly glorify God, all efforts have been geared towards making the rhymes tight. Lastly again, redemption is required otherwise insanity would ensue. A direct quote from the ‘bridge’ reads:
My head is spinning like a carousel for all the attention...
And for one second, I forget that this is not about me…
If the world could only see that I’m just another vessel…
Please save me Lord from my flesh
And kill my hidden pride until I am broken deep inside
If you take the two verses and a ‘bridge’ of sixteen, fifteen and nine lines respectively, you will observe the usual yet uneven pattern of end rhymes. It held up creatively in some places such as:
Put first the kingdom, my brother
And the things you boast for, na jara
And in some places it stuck out like a sore thumb. One of such is:
Every other night your help I refused it
I don’t understand how I got confused it
Yes, this is not a grammar lesson but I am almost sure that if more creativity were deployed, the rhyming scheme would not have taken over the logicality of the lyrical composition.
A good blend of local and international content, I read a Ugandan who saw them perform live post this on his blog: ‘The live music was so enthralling, so riveting, it played with my ears and sparked my heart! Not only was the sound great, these guys have good voices!’
Now, that is the universality of the art form taking over even where the listener would have needed interpretation to understand the meaning of the chorus. As an art, he liked what he heard. It would have mattered less to him if the content had been undiluted obscenity. He could recant later, but that first attraction cannot be fought.
Produced by Cobhams, the same person who produced Asa’s Bibanke album among others of repute, this is one song that tried to use the power of popular culture to propagate a religious message. Unfortunately, it does not seem to be speaking for itself. It thus raises the question of suitability of form, genre and context. Or do you think otherwise?
laskyb@yahoo.co.uk
Lately, more people are expressing disappointment about the content of popular music of this age. In particular, such complaints are directed at the hip-hop genre. The allegations range from poor to outright vulgar content, to irreverence, to total lack of originality and staying power in the market.
Rooftop’s track La’gi mo has been cited as one of the examples of such music with nothing to offer the society in terms of moral. This is quite unfortunate. But reason for this may not be outside of the possibility that the music took an unusual turn in terms of arrangement and genre.
The group’s name, Rooftop, is said to have been derived from the holy bible when it says in Matthew 10:27 “What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light: and what ye hear in the ear, that preach ye upon the housetops”. It is a two man group made up of Adekunle Adeyoola aka Soulsnatcha and Olaitan Hughes also known as Sokleva.
While deep down Lagimo which, literally translates to ‘hit it with a plank of wood’, is a piece of near Christian-gospel-rap-music, it is presented in the soft rock genre which is typically associated with more ‘worldly’ music. It appears there are few rock enthusiasts in our midst and it is naturally understandable that there is little artistic motivation on the part of the listening public to go for the song.
Aside that, it also incorporates a hook from a popular Yoruba fuji Chorus: Ori mi wu o, e la’gi mo, way back in time. This also gives it a bit of a tinge of humour suggesting therefore, a gale of laughter from the Yoruba speaking listener who has not had time to sit down and soak in the content of the music. So, in it, you have a fusion of rap, rock and fuji. Quite a handful you would say.
Apart from the foregoing initial observations however, if you are careful to listen attentively, you could see the song as a call for caution in the music industry just as you could see in it a subtle warning to all whose dreams are coming true and whose careers are rising even above their expectations.
Assuming the role of the first person plural narrator, the persona in the song starts from evoking a picture of self realisation or ‘arrival’; that stage where all expectations have been met. Pictures are being taken and as the celebrities are saying ‘cheese’, they are also telling you how they are big all over the world. So big are they that while the whole world is catching their sneeze, the ladies are possibly in a swoon as they scream: ‘its Rooftop MCs.’
The narrators then jump out of the story and call the attention of the audience to see them in the spotlight when they have got all they desired. They have got more money than they can spend. They have a clothesline which seems to be one of the signs of arrival in the popular culture world. They even have their own comic titles and investments in far away Germany!
By the next line, the narrator becomes first person singular. But the story is still the same narrative of success. By the age of thirty-five, the persona already owns a private jet; has a mansion by the lake and says this is not even the beginning. By every worldly standard, this is success; the type craved for by all.
But just then, there is a jolt out of this celebration of the obscene. The narrating character feels a sense of loss of direction and correction for the sole reason that all this victory has a hollowness to it. The part of the scriptures that admonishes one to seek first the kingdom of heaven first so that other things can be added as a matter of course was recalled. So, like the prodigal son, the character’s, steps are retraced to God and it is in the ultimate submission that the character declares: Do everything to condition me Lord, as you can see that I am getting so swollen headed to claim all this glory for myself and give you no space. Please feel free to hit me on the head with a plank if that would call me to order. Thus, the seemingly offending refrain: Ori mi wu o, e la’gi mo. This is nothing but a direct call to God the almighty to take the most drastic action possible to chide me so that I can know my place.
The second verse presumes that there has been a time lapse between the first appeal and now. But is seems no change has happened. Or rather, the previous smacking has waned off and having gone astray again, the realisation has also come that God should be turned to. So the persona comes again and explains to God why the intervention is needed. It is a session of confession and admittance of guilt. The supplicant admits to a sense of confusion brought about by various addictions to polygraphs, reviews and interviews; all the razzmatazz of showbiz. The gift of music has been abused. The grace of God has been refused. There is an addiction to the lime light and instead of composing the right rhymes that could possibly glorify God, all efforts have been geared towards making the rhymes tight. Lastly again, redemption is required otherwise insanity would ensue. A direct quote from the ‘bridge’ reads:
My head is spinning like a carousel for all the attention...
And for one second, I forget that this is not about me…
If the world could only see that I’m just another vessel…
Please save me Lord from my flesh
And kill my hidden pride until I am broken deep inside
If you take the two verses and a ‘bridge’ of sixteen, fifteen and nine lines respectively, you will observe the usual yet uneven pattern of end rhymes. It held up creatively in some places such as:
Put first the kingdom, my brother
And the things you boast for, na jara
And in some places it stuck out like a sore thumb. One of such is:
Every other night your help I refused it
I don’t understand how I got confused it
Yes, this is not a grammar lesson but I am almost sure that if more creativity were deployed, the rhyming scheme would not have taken over the logicality of the lyrical composition.
A good blend of local and international content, I read a Ugandan who saw them perform live post this on his blog: ‘The live music was so enthralling, so riveting, it played with my ears and sparked my heart! Not only was the sound great, these guys have good voices!’
Now, that is the universality of the art form taking over even where the listener would have needed interpretation to understand the meaning of the chorus. As an art, he liked what he heard. It would have mattered less to him if the content had been undiluted obscenity. He could recant later, but that first attraction cannot be fought.
Produced by Cobhams, the same person who produced Asa’s Bibanke album among others of repute, this is one song that tried to use the power of popular culture to propagate a religious message. Unfortunately, it does not seem to be speaking for itself. It thus raises the question of suitability of form, genre and context. Or do you think otherwise?
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