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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