Kanda's Yolanda

Kanda Bongo Man's music, so well exemplified by Yolanda, is, stylistically, an important link or milestone in the progression of African music -- integral to which is, inescapably, Congolese music -- in the last 65+ years or so; that is, in the period from the late Fifties to now -- the middle of the second decade of the 21st century. 

The usual criteria/aspects of interest when tracking this change are, in broad terms: voice, sound and optics. That is, how voice and sound fuse, what body texts interpret (so to speak) this fusion and how far they go in doing so, and how all of this carries the baton of creativity from Yolanda's past to its time and place and on to its future -- that is, to our "present" and well beyond. 

Yolanda is thus to be seen as a genealogical artifact of sorts, which we are happy to have in our hands. It is a window on the past of now, but not the only window -- and not the only artifact we have from Kanda or his artistic contemporaries. It is, to be sure, a Golden that's not quite yet, perhaps, Oldie for some. There's much to be said about all that it represents, and others likewise do, in time and space, but the time to do so in any detail is not quite now. 

All I want to say right now is that Yolanda is a precursor -- if perhaps by default or long-winded and fuzzy influence -- for what the younger artistes of the present decade are crafting and giving us by way of so many permutations and combinations, and departures.

Suffice it to add that the fine melody we hear here is typical Kanda. The fluid dance moves of the man -- the body and soul synchrony -- are signature Kanda. Kanda's never-say-die spirit is solid sapeur. His sartorial sensibilities are pure sapeur. And his supporting cast of supple bodies are a firm and charmed bough in the sturdy family tree of African dance.

Take a listen, take a look.

Music All The Way With Victoria Kimani And Khuli Chana

Victoria Kimani has a stand-out performance in All the Way, in all respects. She dances in a cool, sophisticated and charming way. Her voice enchants -- seduces. She carries the whole thing, all the way, in the way she carries herself.  

The song's visuals are all in-the-groove. The drumbeat -- the irreplaceable drumbeat -- steers, in tandem with all that VK does, all the goings-on: A literal moveable feast of dancing bodies and cultured postures, of wonderfully modulated voices and sumptuous colors, of groomed personas and an altogether "glad you're watching" attitude. It's all very African. All symphonic. And all truly lovely. It whispers, anticipates and echoes all that we hear and see (and, p'raps, do) through (alas, too brief) 3:40 minutes of pure funk. 

South Africa's Khuli Chana, an accomplished musician in his own right, happily plays a supporting role in this video; but his contribution is golden -- and his 'spirits' fusing. His voice adds rich punctuation to all the singing, and the drumbeat, and all the dancing.

The leading lady's singing all her heart out here, for sure. Cool, controlled. The supporting cast knows it is in a charmed place, due in no small part precisely to it, and the members are all the merrier for it. As we ourselves are. We, the spectators, are all swayed by all this, in an existential sort of context. Even, if it must be so, unto the Twelfth Night. And so, let us each say it too, what was said so long ago: "if music be the food of love, play on. Give me excess of it...". Play on, VK!

READ: All The Way Lyrics

NOTE: Published on January 21, 2016, this song had gained 178,394 YouTube views by 12:30 a.m. on December 31, 2016.

PS: Victoria Kimani certainly isn't getting the frequency of airplay she deserves on Africa's music channels. Since September this year, all Eastern African eyes are specifically on Trace Mziki and even Trace Naija. The neglect is there for all to see. The officials and DJs concerned owe the viewers, paying or not, an explanation. Fairness matters. A transparent, well-structured rotation policy is a necessity if artistes are to earn their fair rewards.

MUSIC: Akothee's Amazing Bougerle

I must confess I had never seen Akothee's Bourgele until fifty minutes ago. Isn't it a sumptuous piece of music video? It has all the verve, hoarse and irrepressible laughter (a la HRC), high-energy motion and girlie karate kicks (which wouldn't hurt a fly) that we have come to know her for. And, as we now know, she can sing in many tongues.  She wags, then; as much as she can twerk. And, with the cameraman's collusion, she can do you the ladies' version of swag -- but not here.

[I think "Bouger le" means to move something. You guess what that suggests in pop music. It's plentiful in the video]

Akothee "Nya Kadera" sings wonderfully here in Lingala -- with a pinch here and there of French, Swahili and dare-devil Dholuo. We know from other 'sources' that she speaks more refined Swahili than most bara Kenyans -- and nearly all of Kenya's politicians. Just a sunny, sunny production, this! Stunning/charming VSO (= Voice, Sound and Optics) -- in sum. Credit too to Sarkozie, who's very much there in the mix of this 2015 production.


Click here to watch the Bougerle video

MUSIC (Naija): Korede Bello's "Do Like That"

To the singer's lyrical and desperate declaration of love at the very outset:
"I feel it in my soul
Let them know now."

The more confident Guardian Angel replies, presumably on behalf of the one who is loved: "You know eh."

And so the story goes: Do Like That must be the kind of song all of Korede Bello's fans and well-wishers have been waiting for, perhaps with some frustration, since his part in Dorobucci. Now he's gone and done it. The song brings out the best in him -- and in Mavins Records. Both of them have exceeded expectations in a massive and emphatic way, and they thus show what they are now ready to do to meet the competition toe-to-toe, head-to-head.

This song, with its tantalizing lyrics and a superb fusion of voice and sound -- and shorn of all of lovers' platitudes that we're all familiar with -- meets one's expectations of an earnestly and finely crafted love song which, for all we know, reveals a charmingly awkward adolescence. And Korede is just the right choice for the vocalist's part. He's here a singing suitor with complicated (some, more parental, may say naughty) but seemingly unintended humor, and a rough-edged respect for his lover's hesitations which casual passers-by will not discern. 

There may be a jogoo's (a rooster's) intent behind all that 'accidentally' cerebral phraseology -- clumsy muttering if you like -- with which he is seeding the air all around her, this way and that. But it is not by design. He is only being a truly not-yet-fully-done him; true to what he feels is becoming him, truly. His pleadings are earnest and truthful and consistent with his love, and his hope is that she will in the end understand this -- this "hopelessness" that drives him to say these things that he says: 

"Why you gon' do like that.
Why you gon' keep that thing from me."
.............

"Girl come feed me don't be stingy"

A foggy place somewhere is where the story begins. Like an autumn rendezvous with the 'chick' of KB's fondest dreams. Like an obscure train station, the engine puffing as much steam as love can bear, without fudging the fonder feelings. 

This improbable meeting place: it might as well have been a smoke-filled subway cavern, chilled with an eerie avant design. In which case how on earth did they get there, and feel the way they do so unscripted? Above all, what lingers in the memory about the beginning is the eerie hiss we hear, as of a purposeful iron snake (at 0:05-0:08); joined soon enough by voices seemingly hidden in an unmistakable but likewise hidden echo-chamber.  

KB's charm-offensive is reinforced with echoes of his own words bouncing back from these hidden voices, led by a kind of guardian angel and his troops (heard particularly at 0:15-0:16, 1:21-1:38, 2:18-2:25, 2:58-3:12). The angels of love are in that love-starved place doing their darnedest to get this thing really, really going; to help along this seemingly hapless prince.

Watch Do Like That here
I think the best segments of this clip, which outperforms in melody and creativity, are at 0:05-0:10, 0:16-0:18, 1:05-1:08 and 1:56-3:12. The musical instruments are all played with accomplished hands, and the result is entrancing. 

Published on November 22, 2016, the clip (directed by Konstantin and produced by Altims) already had 5,873,059 YouTube views in the early hours of November 30, 2016. On May 2, 2019 (9:30 PM, EAT), it had 82,167,856. 

Read: The Lyrics of Korede Bello's Do Like That

Updated: May 2, 2019

Autumn Sound: Haiku

Some kind of jamming.
Autumn ghost in mama's chine,
Chaff-cutting de hay.

MUSIC: Sente(nced) ~ Be Be Cool's Eyeview of Uganda's Club Culture

Sente, we are told, means money. But Be Be Cool isn't singing here only about some kind of Cash Daddy. Though perhaps he is, obliquely. He sings in three languages -- Luganda, English and Swahili -- though perhaps he sees them all as one really big thing.

The video component of Sente serves us vignettes of well-remembered beer-club doings in Uganda. But this is not unique to his country. It has historically been a feature of lumpen-proletarian life across much of Sub-Sahara: East to Central to West, South to the Equator. Here, Ayatolla Be Be in make-believe fighter-pilot's goggles and an assortment of dandy-garbs -- all of which perhaps make him a garba(atulla) of sorts but not quite a Sapeur -- preachifies against the corrosive-corrupting power of money. 

In the refrain to his song we hear:

"Love is free, never for sale.
If you sell, money will kill.

You'll witness your marriage die.

You'll bury alive."

In sight and sound, Sente portrays the leisure interludes of hard-knuckle urban life: centered on dance, beer and shifting fidelities -- plus the awkward sleuthing that betrayal prompts. Money is hard to find. And so see what it does to the social fabric when it appears, in whatever semblance of plenitude! The question invariably asked by perplexed onlookers, who are yet to know the underlying story, then is:

"Huyu ni nani?
Huyu ni nani?" 
[Trans. Who be this dude?]

The threads and moves of the dance scenes, enhanced by the song's worry-free tempo, evoke beer-club chic, of sorts, on a good weekend or holiday (holy!). Lucky them dancers. With all the fussiness that such dressing entails, they were not allowed to wallow in drunken mud. So changing-room logistics were kept to a minimum. It was dry season, too, p'raps. 

The high visibility of the members of Be Be's band is unusual in music-videos. It is remarkable -- see the guitar player, see the accordionist, see the percussionista -- and adds to the totality of the everyone's experience.

MUSIC: The Nigerian Voice

I.
In a piece on Patoranking's Make Am which I posted on January 1st this year, I made these remarks on the sounds that typify Nigerian music for us non-Nigerians: 

"...one of the most attention-grabbing songs out of Nigeria right now (certainly to me), and which I think is distinctly Nigerian and truly accomplished in its vocal heaves and turns -- the kind we other Africans will hear, perhaps in a supermarket or on radio, and quickly say "That's Nigerian" -- is KJV's Common Sense (forget the awkwardly hilarious 'bedroom' shenanigans which we may blame on the story-line, but which might in turn be blamed entirely on a portion of the lyrics). It's such a memorable song."

Make Am itself, I thought, had a distinctly Great Lakes and Rivers ring. I still do, but that's another line of thought. What I want to say a little more about here is what I see as the Nigerian Voice in African music. There is a background to that, too, which we should touch on as we proceed.

Nigerian musicians, individually and collectively, nowadays seem to produce much more music -- more good music -- in any given month than most Eastern and Southern African musicians, for example, do in a whole year. They currently dominate in the same way as their compatriots do in cinema. This dominance is, of course, helped along by two TV channels with a continent-wide reach:

1. HipTV, which is controlled by a Nigerian magnate, as I understand.

2. AfroPop, which to many viewers is Nigerian in all respects (including 'musical taste' and preferences) though it supposedly has Angolan and Portugues roots and/or links. AfroPop hardly gives airplay to Angolan, or Lusophone, music. 

These two channels, together with MTV Base and Sound City (both of which still have a distinct bias for European and US music) already have a tight grip on the DStv's musical ecosystem -- which is the only pan-African network "in town." To non-Nigerian artistes and the wider African audience, if you don't appear via DStv, it's like you don't exist at all. If Kenya is anything to go by, national TV channels are clueless about giving structured airplay to artistes who deserve regular exposure. 

It may be a chicken-an-egg paradox: How do you launch such a TV program if there are not enough 'straight-off-the-oven' songs for a 24/7 proposition? Well, Trace Africa, the fifth music channel, provided the emphatic and perfect answer this past September with its split into Trace Mziki (for Eastern African music) and Trace Naija (for the Nigerian audience, but available to East African viewers as well). But more on all this on another occasion.

Given all the changes (some potentially seismic) that one suspects lie ahead, the Nigerian Voice continues to be the leading voice in African music today, but perhaps not for long. 

II.
It wasn't always the case that this Nigerian Voice dominated the airwaves. This dominance goes back only about four years, at most. First, as far as I can personally remember of the preponderance of the songs we heard in colonial Nairobi day-to-day, and specifically on public holidays when other distractions were largely muffled, it was South(ern) African (Miriam Makeba, Hugh Masekela, DorothyMasuka and others). 

In the late Fifties and early Sixties, Congolese music began to erode the South African influence, and by the mid-60s had practically carried out a sweeping overthrow -- aided by autonomous accomplices in Kenya's lake region. It was not just the melody and the tunefulness, it was also the opportunity it gave for impassioned, up-close dancing. Thereafter, it reigned for almost forever, fusing with local styles to spawn a highly influential Eastern African sound that came to be known as Benga. 

READ: 10 Greatest Musicians From South Africa

West African music (spearheaded by icons like Fela Kuti, Manu Dibango, Osibisa and all that High Life stuff) began to assert its influence in the early Seventies. It did not completely displace Congolese music, however. Pockets of resistance stayed with Lingala, particularly in proletarian and rural areas. But it can still be said that this West African sound soon morphed in two ways: (a) It became less "High Life" as influences from the Caribbean kicked in; and (b), it turned, in the period since c. 2013, more emphatically Nigerian. This Nigerian era is in turn already under threat -- certainly from increasingly assertive and reflective Eastern African voices. More on this in conversations to follow. 

[incidentally, as I began to write this blog post on Christmas Day afternoon, Trace Mziki (Channel 741 on DSTV) had a retrospective on African legends -- #FOCUS MZIKILEGENDS -- featuring a number of Southern African icons such as Miriam Makeba (she who was made famous by a classic Tanzanian song, Malaika, which she made famous), but also latter-day heroes and heroines from both South Africa and a larger swathe of the continent, including Brenda Fassie, Lucky Dube, Alpha Blondy, and Papa Wemba]  

READ: Makeba's bio and the Malaika Lyrics in Swahili and English translation


III.
The Nigerian Voice has a multiplicity of forms and content. It is a self-confident voice. Its lyrics are the most creative in both their written and sung forms, aided by the fact that pidgin is the almost inescapable component of the language used in any popular song. Pidgin has built into it the most linguistically confounding, intriguing, mesmerizing, frustrating and undecipherable expressions and turns of phrase -- certainly to the hapless outsider. It adds a flavor to the songs that's not encountered elsewhere, and is thus most bewitching.

This Nigerian Voice is supremely creative. It is gifted with the most poetic language, rivaled only by Lingala. The artistes mix and match the words they have had at their disposal since childhood in the most astounding ways. Thus they really, collectively, bear the African music flag still.

To highlight this varied voice, here's an A to Z sampling (and only a sampling) of Nigeria's Musical Pantheon -- The Triple Dirty Dozen of sorts:

1. Adenkule Gold ~ Orente, Sade
2. Boj ~ Paper, Ire
3. Burna Boy ~ (w/ AKA,...) All Eyes On Me, Soke, Pree Me
4. Cheezy Chi ~ She Need Am, Monica, MAYE
5. Chidinma ~ Fallen in Love, For You
6. Davido ~ Fans Mi, Ekuro, Gobe
7. D'Banj ~ Emergency, Knocking on My Door, Extraordinary, 
8. Di'ja ~ Awww
9. Don Jazzy ~ (ft. Reekado Banks x Di'ja x Korede Bello) Adaobi, (ft. Korede Bello x Tiwa Savage x Dr. SID x Korede Bello x Di'ja x D'Prince) Dorobucci, (w/ Timaya) I concur
10. Falz ~ (ft. Reekado Banks) Celebrity Girlfriend, (ft. Simi) Soldier, (w/ Simi) Chemistry
11. Mr. Flavour ~ (ft. Tiwa Savage) Oyi Remix, Gollibe, (ft. Chidinma) Ololufe 
12. Humblesmith ~ (ft. Mr. Flavour) Jukwese, (ft. Davido) Osinachi
13. Iyanya ~ (ft. Don Jazzy x Dr. Sid) Up 2 Sumting, (ft. Mr. Flavour) Jombolo, Type of Woman
14. Kiss Daniel ~ Laye, (ft. Davido x Tiwa Savage) Woju, (ft. Sugarboy) Upon Me
15. KJV ~ Common Sense
16. Lola Rae ~ (ft. Davido) Biko, One Time 
17. Korede Bello ~ Mungo Park,  Do Like That, (ft. Tiwa Savage) Romantic
18. Mr. Eazi ~ (w/ Eugy) Dance for Me, (w/ Eugy) Body, Hollup 
19. Olamide ~ (ft. Don Jazzy) Skelemba, MVP, Story of the Gods, Bobo, Melo Melo, (w/ Stormrex) Walk With Me
20. Oritshe Femi ~ (ft. Reminisce) Tomorrow, Igbeyawo, (ft. D'Banj) Double Wahala Part 2, (w/ El Phlex) Aiye Mi, Awoo Ewaa.
21. Patoranking ~ Daniella Whine, (ft. Wande Coal My Woman, My Everything)
22. Phyno ~ Connect, Nme Nme, (ft. Stormrex) Nnunu, (ft. Olamide) Fada Fada
23. PSquare ~ Bank Alert, Beautiful Onyinye
24. Niniola ~ Jigi Jigi, Akara Oyibo, 
25. Rayce ~ Tetela, Wetin Dey 
26. Reekado Banks ~ (ft. Don Jazzy) Sugar Baby, Oluwa Ni, Katapot
27. SDC (ft. Poe x Boj) ~ Feel Alright
28. Sean Tizzle ~ (ft. Tiwa savage) Sho Lee, Igi Orombo
29. Seyi Shay ~ Jangilova, (ft. Olamide) Pack and Go
30. Simi -~ Tiff, Jamb Question, Open and Close
31. Skales ~ Shake Body, Temper
32. Skuki  ~ (ft. Olamide) Peteru, (ft. Tiwa Savage) Gbemileke, (ft. Phyno) E Pass Go
33. Tiwa Savage ~ My Darling, Wanted
34. Vector ~ EMI, (ft. Phyno x Reminisce x Classiq x Uzi) King Kong Remix
35. Wizkid ~ Ojuelegba, (ft. Femi Kuti) Jaiye Jaiye, (ft. L.A.X) Caro, (w/ Justine Skye) U Don't Know Me
36. Yemi Alade ~ Johnny, (ft. Phyno) Taking Over Me,


IV.

If, by way of a conclusion, I were to choose out of the 36 (and others not mentioned) the half-dozen artistes most representative of the Nigerian Voice today, I would single out these: Oritse Femi, Olamide, Phyno, Yemi Alade, Simi and Tiwa Savage. So there you are.

Poiema

No year returns,
If ever,
Just as it was.

And no year is the reincarnation:
Of nor another -- 
Nor the other.
Nor the selfsame.

There's never a promise:
That it shall be, as it was. 
What (ever) we imagine 
 It, a wannabe, to have been.

What (ever) we imagined it'd b.

Nor do we ever walk,
As (if) it were, full-back(ward),
Our heels leading the way,
Anyhow,
Toward heaven's gate.
Over there in
Naivasha.

Or some place else: Giza's Orion p'raps.

Toward the very same Ness.

No year ever returns
Ever, ev'n as we do
The very same old things.
Nay, the same difference.

What we wanted so badly to
End returns, only 
In the famed manner of another,
Moon.

No year returns to meet tomorrow's wind.
V-winged. Stealthy. 
Shrouded in visible irony and 
Smart-boy alloys.

The wind 
Which
Has no driver in the scheme of things
And rides
Alone. Headless. Chicken. Dead meat. 

It alone is (in) its own horse-power(s).

It alone (in) its lock, stock and barrel.

Chief.

The wind rides alone
Toward its past lives.
Where ever it left 'em.
A cat's, ahead of Time,
Nine.

And won't find 'em!
And no year returns to witness
The very same wind
Fall.
The very same December!

All dose years we wanted
So badly to end.
Return only under
De usual guises.
Of ill-winds plowing,
And fortunes falling,
And reality convoluted,
Farther behind the curve.
To the right.

Faster. Fainter. Painter. Farther. Father!

There are no winds
Between here and forever.
Only sunsets misread as
Gale force. Tsunami.
Working class.
As a million dead-ends.

Dividends --
We couldn't take along
For the ride,
If we so very badly wanted.
So so badly.

A Thought ~ 10: Radio Waves

The invisible side 
Of our youth 
Was pure radio waves.




NOTE: More on Radio Waves

Congolese MUSIC: Franco's Tembe na Tembe

So Lingala has given us two songs, as far as one can tell, with the same title: Tembe na Tembe. The present one, by Franco Luambo Luanzo Makiadi and TP OK Jazz, was released in 1970. The second, by Bozi Boziana, a decade or more later. So be it.

[About the word Tembe: One translation that I have seen suggests that it means doubt or suspicion (as in a marriage or between lovers or friends)]

Franco's Tembe na Tembe is a prized oldie (though we never knew what the words meant), and has been a true companion, on and off, through life's uncertain detours and milestones. Long, indeed, have been its absences from our individually remembered pasts, as attentions shifted and trends ebbed and flowed with Time and age and travel and responsibility in the stifling analog era and the early digital years. 

The song is tellingly nostalgic in its tone, playing now after all those years since one's true youth. This is a nostalgia which millennials will find hard to fathom. And playing it so long after it was last heard, a chance happening in itself for many (given all the distractions of modernity and work-life), is itself a nostalgic act. A nostalgic act so deeply evocative of days and places and things that one cannot quite clearly put into words and define for others. That is, evocative of slices of life that are now distinctly fuzzy and elusive and altogether inexplicably patchy, even for one and to oneself. 

With its emphatically universal ring, this Tembe na Tembe hints, too, somehow, if you like, at things yet to come, and which we're glad to wait for -- not really knowing when or how they will, or if they will ever find us if they do. And I dare myself to suggest that this song, this Tembe na Tembe, should find a place in every interstellar voyager's back-pack when such a time truly comes, as I reckon it will. 

Here below is the audio version (there is no video). It runs for 5:44 minutes, the last three seconds of which are pure silence:

The song starts on a low key, aptly suggesting a long journey ahead. Two male voices, the only distinct ones in the whole song, set it all off in perfect harmony and symmetry, warming up the aural spaces that the song clears and opens up as it moves along. Then the instruments kick in -- two guitars specifically, strummed, I reckon, by the very same vocalists. Tentatively at first, and then, rapidly, on to a frenzy of sound: led by the two guitars, and spiced with muffled percussion and drumming in the background. All interspersed with the singing-duo's melodic and commanding voices. 

With all protocols thus observed, artistic boldness goes a notch higher, and a duet of voices and sounds ensues. But from 1:50 to 3:15, we have a glorious stringfest, led by Maestro Franco; indeed a frolic of heavenly strings plucked by fingers God himself can be proud of. Another fest, surely the last, is had from 4:25 to 5: 41. It closes with three seconds of pure silence, as already noted.    

In Taniel's Buk: Haiku

Taniel said it, but
I never understood: That
Nobody loved us.

POLITICS, URBAN DESIGN AND MUSIC: To Love or Not to Love Lagos ~ Singer Olamide's Take

In a song published on January 9, 2016 (and which has 1,666,176 YouTube hits right now), Baddo sings a heartfelt love song for his 'hometown', the great city of Lagos. So, what kind of city is this that he so genuinely loves, and invites us all to? 

Lagos is big, big-time. It is vibrant, displaying what some would say is organized chaos [To those who fully understand the concept, incidentally, chaos is not the dirty word it may appear to be]. Inward-looking though it is -- as are Addis, Cairo, Cape Town, Dar-Es-Salaam, Johannesburg and Kinshasa -- it is Africa's epicentre of culture [art, apparel, film, language (pidgin), literature, music and identity] and SM entrepreneurship -- not to mention loud and to-the-hilt living.

And it has a huge reservoir of self-confidence for all that. It has no qualms about doing things its way, but the impression one gets is that the average citizen on the street feels let down by the "authorities". 

Lagos City, observes Tomisin (2016), is currently home to some 20 million Lagosians. That, incidentally, is just under half of Kenya's population, and over half of Uganda's. Its metropolitan areas have a population density of over 20,000 per square mile. Indeed, Tomisin argues, Lagos remains Nigeria's "centre of excellence". But he also shares with us the grim images painted by one artist/designer (Olalekan Jeyifous) of a future Lagos overwhelmed by teetering 'skyscraper' shanties, ever-present rust, decay, structural fragility, ugliness -- and even angst (see more images, depicting/predicting extreme visual pollution, here).

But this pessimistic picture is not reflected in Monty Mumford's 2014 article titled "Booming Lagos, Smart City". He argues there that while Lagos faces 'epic challenges' in infrastructural development (especially transportation), there are reasons to have faith in the future. Specifically, the Eko Atlantic project will be key to the city's "regeneration". But the reality is that the project is designed with the rich at the centre of attention, not the poor. The 12 million additional residents Lagos is expected to absorb in the not-too-distant future are not going to make matters easier by any stretch of the imagination.

In Vision 2015-2030, Orlean Invest is also optimistic that the Eko Atlantic Project is "the future economic hub of Lagos City as well as Nigeria". But this optimism is counter-intuitive to Mumford's other observation that the poorest in Lagos "live in fetid floating slums".

In a 2014 article in the NYT titled "What Makes Lagos a Model City", Prof. Seth Kaplan of Johns Hopkins University observed that "Lagos, which until recently was known as one of the world's most difficult cities to govern, seems to have turned a corner." He added:

"Even though it remains a slum-ridden and largely impoverished metropolis... it  [Lagos] has seen steady improvement in its governance for over a decade [since 1999]. The government has enhanced public transportation, cleaned up streets, upgraded the business environment and bettered the lives of its inhabitants."

And he concluded:

"So Nigeria, of all places, may be pointing the way to a strategy by which fragile states might begin to succeed: Devolve more power to cities from their corrupt and overcentralized national governments".

This positive prognosis was more recently echoed in a 2016 article by Francesca Perry and Chris Michael.

READ: Francesca Perry and Chris Michael "How is Lagos Changing? Share Your Stories".

ALSO READ: Open City Lagos

I think that Baddo Olamide, a native of Lagos State, speaks with song to this generally positive trend; and more specifically to what it has wrought already in concrete ways. He has been witness to all that with his own artiste's eye and as a regular resident of the city.  

So, in his I Love Lagos lyrics, he sings and makes certain categorical declarations and retorts. In the process, he makes point-by-point rebuttal of Jeyifous's sickly vision:

"...Oyingbo ekolowa oyinbo
Oyingbo why you speaking oyinbo

Oyingbo you dey lagos to oyingbo

If i carry you go banana

My guy you go love lagos

You go love lagos"


He mentions other places, people and things, too, he "could carry you go", and you would love Lagos: Elegushi, Police, Ikedja, Badagri, Ikorodi, Epe, VGC. And there's "oh no hustle", he claims, when you ride through his city. So, indeed, your love would only grow after all these experiences that he suggests we should have. 

The sung lyrics are even more lyrical than the written, I find. That's the power of good sound and voice. Perhaps that is because, as I keep telling my students, the ear is more generous than the eye. The singer, resting his case, concludes after all this:

"You cannot deny you no see
You go love Lagos oh"



Here below is the video. It is has very optimistic and upbeat images (of various slices of Lagos) and aurally matching sounds. The chorus is lovely. This is the best music video about an African city that I've heard. It is sung with unquestioning and even protective/ possessive love and passion. The sites(sights) and sounds we see and hear are so infectiously evocative of a living city evolving toward the dreams inside the chronicler's/troubadour's (i.e. Baddo's) head -- and inside all of the dwellers' heads. Yambo says, "Love it all":


Watch Olamide's "I Love Lagos" Video

CLICK: I Love Lagos Lyrics

MUSIC (Tanzania): Vanessa Mdee Stars in Cash Madame

The sound clip with which the Cash Madame video starts is from another song, Juu, which Vanessa (a.k.a. Vee Money) sang with fellow Tanzanian called Jux. It is a sly marketing gimmick for Juu, which you won't recognize if you haven't heard the song. And Juu, as connoisseurs will notice or remember, is a blatant undoing (deletion, even) of One More Night, its fore(shadow), in which Jux clumsily appears, but not with Vanessa. It is all rather tell-tale. 

Cash Madame's opening images are unreal. Forget about 'em. The arrival in broad daylight of four skimpily-dressed beauties in a pink, convertible Mercedes, armed only with a pistol and a metal bat and overwhelming harmlessness -- it's unreal. To fix, thusly armed, to rob a bunch of hard-core goons of their hoard of hard-fought cash (there u r) -- it's hilarious. And then, and then, to get away with it without a sweat (without a barrage of four-letter words and finger-flicking chasing after 'em) -- forget it. Never happened!

The real treat begins soon enough, though, 50 seconds into the video, with Vanessa the obvious heart of the party. It's all make-believe for Cash Madame, who has more dough than time to figure out how best to spend it. So, unlimited fun is to be had, day into night, without a worry, or hurry. And the fun images that float to-and-fro before our very own eyes are indeed fun to watch. A black 'dame' in flowing blonde hair, her curves all in the right places, charmingly all-smiles, sits on that hula-hoop of a thing and precariously swings -- hanging and turning by a "thread" from an invisible ceiling -- all to the tunefully 'dutiful' refrain of "Cash Madame". It's all a thing!
   
Eye-catching, almost still-images of all the goings-on leave a lasting impression of hauteness, cat-like coolness and all-round fashionista demeanor. It's like Cash Madame and her friends were all out for a weekend splash on select photo-shoot locations downtown. We're let in on the act after the fact.


While the video displays considerable creativity, the vocals and the other sounds are not attention-grabbing. They do not soar. They are modest. But they blend well into the bigger scheme of things, and the choreography of ever-shifting feline images is masterful. In the end, what stands out is that; that is, the artistry of body motion cloaked in elegant female voices.

I think Cash Madame secures Vanessa's status as the leading African songstress in 2016. She's has had three hits: Niroge, Juu and Cash Madame (Dume Suruali, on the other hand, isn't "so fun"). All this in a year when others dimmed, despite impressions: Yemi Alade (despite much activity), Tiwa Savage, Seyi Shay, Simi, D'ija and Skalled. More broadly, there was limited evidence of top-notch diva creativity out of Southern and Eastern Africa. Arguably second to Vanessa in 2016 was Nigeria's electrifying Lola Rae. Uganda's Shebbah also stood out in a consistent and remarkable way.

CLICK: Cash Madame Lyrics

A Thought ~ 9: Nature's Protector

If you are on top of the food chain, 
As you are,
You can certainly choose what not to
Eat, or kill -- or let die
At your own proverbial hands.
You are, 
You were born to be, a protector.
Be one!

MUSIC: Elengi ya Innoss'B na Koffi Olomide

Innoss'B and Koffi Olomide chose Elengi, which means sweet in Lingala (as in "What sweet love!"), for the title of their song here, which runs for 4:09 minutes and which is sweetness itself, from the beginning to the very end -- believe me! The word Elengi itself is sweet, tamu, mit! Bayaye! Wololo!

"Elengi ya Mbongo"

This amazing song is sung in three lingua francas: English, Lingala and French. The music is pure excuse for the funk in the lyrics that run in tandem with (and are integral to) it, and the groove in the dance that interprets the both of them for all to see and hear. As I see and hear it all myself!

"Elengi ya Mbongo"

Innoss'B is the Jeunne Leader in all this AfroCongo stuff! He who pleads with all the ladies "Show me what I want to see!" And isn't, or perhaps is, but not in the video. And Koffi Olomide, who roars like a Lion, his stage name, written invisibly in his mane, in truth is: "ah ah ah ah Quadra eh eh eh eh". Quadra in short.

"Elengi ya Mbongo"

A dramatic beginning, full of creative and rousing noise-making, prepares us for a journey of lyrically explosive sounds, unbelievably smooth glides and gloriously choreographed group-dancing, w/ a touch of Bruce Lee's kung fu posture even (arms raised and bent outward and downward at the wrist). Pity, though, that we see only glimpses, taunting and hunger-inducing glimpses, of dancers we can tell would be a wonder to c in full blast. P'raps it's all about the money. 

"Elengi ya Mbongo"

As said, then, Innoss'B and KO are the main agenda. When Innoss'B calls, KO's callback is a roar. And when KO is by the spirits moved to weigh in, he does so in stacatto bursts of phrase, and the effect is a moving, multicolored dance-hall ado. The supporting cast knows its place. When the act is really going and everything else is really 'forgot', Elengi is a grad (grand) seminar on cool performative swag. At its best, the rhythm of the body heaves and troughs like slow-motion waves in the near sea. That is, as the unseen band goes wild with whatever keys it uses to light up this wilderness of sound and mirth and technicolor -- as wild as the River Congo itself, at its crest.

"Elengi ya Mbongo"



WATCH VIDEO: Elengi by Innos'B ft. Koffi Olomide

CLICK: The Elengi Lyrics




Just found out that Mbongo means Money, as I got ready to publish this post (Dec 17, 2016 ~ 12:55 pm, GMT+3).

MUSIC (Bongo Flava): Salome by Diamond Platnumz and Rayvanny

Salome is sung in Swahili by two Tanzanian leading lights (Diamond Platnumz and Rayvanny). It was published in the second half of 2016 -- on September 18th, to be precise. It is one of at least two great productions in which each has been separately involved this year: Diamond in Kidogo, Bado and Kokoro, for example; and Rayvanny in Mugacherere and Natafuta Kiki.

Though it has a simple storyline, Salome, laden with melody and colorfulness itself, is simply one of the best songs out of Africa in 2016. It is captivating, first aurally and then visually and then both. 

The Sounds: when the song starts, it first rouses the attention, of whoever's around, with sung and played tunes. If you hear Sarome, instead of Salome, just know it's one and the same beautiful thing. Something familiar and homegrown in those tunes rings in a receptive communal ear (primed as it is with a rich array of apt sensibilities and even nurturing social capital), awakens it, which awakening further connects the listener to the blended emanations: beating drums, sensitive and self-assured guitar-play, whistle-blowers blowing away at measured intervals from where the song begins to wind down, sunny and air-spicing trumpet sounding comradely out of the blue, vocal cords in riveting melody and a celebratory mood. Lyrics steeped in intricate word-play and nuances of meaning. Everything becomes, in that orchestrated and invisible way, one big ball of harmony and good feeling. That's it if you are stuck on audio; but if you're viewing too, much more comes your way.

The Visuals, colorful and all so pleasing to the eye, are in harmony too with the sounds (and the sounds with them, as with each other). The men, in their obetoo legs, are all dressed at the start in coastal Swahili style -- first in stylized and more regal white kanzu, and then in the seafarer's garb, set in sober white and blue. Else, as there is progression in the story, in more assorted attire as perhaps the director wills. The guards' 'uniforms' evoke an intriguing past: is it Shaka Zulu's elite guards, or Lobengula's, or someone else's farther up north? Nobody really knows?  [So we still have a long story to tell].  The dancing ladies -- calm, feline, eleganza itself -- are red, red hot in vital ways: looks, dress-code, spirit, dance-floor moves. That's all.

All in all, then, Salome is a wholly melodious song at both its vocal and body-textual cores. Not to mention  the contrasting colors in which the lady-dancers wrap themselves. 

Here's the video. Si mjienjoy!

Click here for the Salome lyrics, written in Swahili 


Here below are two earlier videos which can be seen as the precursors of Salome, the first (Skelemba) is a Nigerian production, the second (Sijazoea) is made in Tanzania. Both are PGP (pretty good productions). Salome already had over 10 million YouTube views after only three months, in mid-December 2016. Skelemba, a 2014 production, had just over 1 million. Sijazoea , published in late May 2015, had 578,498 views. People forget easily, but Skelemba was a wildly inspiring and all-round entertaining offering. Yet, there you are:

1. Click here to watch Skelemba by Olomide ft. Don Jazzy

2. Click here to watch Sijazoea by AT 

Salome is a wholly melodious song at both its vocal and body-textual cores. Not to mention  the contrasting colors in which the lady-dancers wrap themselves. 

MUSIC (Tanzania): Kokoro by Rich Mavoko ft. Diamond Platnumz

Kokoro has a dramatic sight and sound opening, ushering, it seems, some kind of in-your-face spinning and swaying force-field come, alas, to rearrange a few things. Which is what happens. A bathtub 'apparition' -- art imitating a life-form in turn imitating art -- happens. 

Kokoro, safe to say, is a concerted effort by two Tanzanian artistes of no mean repute to throw caution to the wind under the feigned cover of innocence, in Dar's staid and organized air; and to do something at once bold n rebellious n different -- p'raps as the starting point of a new normal, in the era of which 'apparitions' may walk free. Something, like, visually outrageous happens alright, for 40 or so discontinuous seconds (between 0:14 and 1:00 on the video). That, if you missed the point, is the very same 'app' of which we talk. 

What goes with it is this: a sly taunting of the invisible censor's partial and crooked eye with 'never-before-seen' -- never before! --public visuals of God-given mama's things; here even crossed at the tip with light-absorbing black prudence. The result of all this inner-outer turmoil gives us some idea of what Churchill meant when he described Russia, so long ago now, as a: "a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma". [I think the version of that saying that I first read or heard, so many years ago, was: "an enigma within a riddle within a puzzle". After decades of memorizing the wrong word-play, the correct quote seems so awkwardly awkward, pondering and prosaic, if you ask me].

Kokoro was published only on November 26, 2016, and already had 1,221,018 YouTube views very early on December 15, 2016. But there is debate and concern surrounding Kokoro, already, in Tanzania (click here to read a pertinent observation, para. 1-5). How deep the concern is no one really knows yet. But Diamond is a towering African icon, already; and has many options.

I spy a touch of Spanish (or Portuguese?) sounds from the guitar strings in Kokoro. And more. The vibes one gets from the instruments are at their core all, or mostly, rooted in the same place(s), it seems to me. But they blend nicely with the Tanzanian images, vocals and lyrics. And so, all in all, what we have is a very conscious but perhaps not so well articulated experimentation with something new. Time will tell. I sensed the same kind of thing, with different ingredients, in C4 Pedro's very special Spetxa One. So there's spreading 'ferment' across our continent. Mo power!

In sum: the lyrics of this song may sound tame, but far from it in fact. They are even raunchier that the tub 'apparition'. If you can read Swahili (click here and see for yourself). But the words have rhyme and do flow. They are undoubtedly poetic. The dancers do try out some really new moves, even inside all that twerking -- though quantity masks the innovative quality that should come to the fore.

Click on the icon below, and watch Kokoro:

RAP Sophistication: Micasa Sucasa by Khaligraph Jones x Cashy

Micasa Sucasa is a study in cool sophistication, and rattlin’ rap – with decidedly Nairobi idioms. The lyrics are, if weretodelvedeeperintoemwithourownbrandofrapsensibility, a blend of sheng (itself a mix of Swahili and English and a barrage of footloose wordcraft from all over) and, if that’s still possible after all that, streetwise English brewed in Iborian. The music: it has a classy-mellow beat even the camera sways to – and so sways our awed eyes. Watch out you could get dizzy yourself up in your soul, mate!

“That’s enough, so let’s get

      lyrical now

Check it, I’m a lyrical

Picasso ka ni muziki mi

     nafanyia umati…”

OK! Good threads and smooth swag add to the couple’s conjoined and entrancing dark-chocolate charm. They’re here, truly, like (= ka) chanda na pete (= ring finger and ring-wrap). Superb vibes and gud, gud mdundo attest to this song’s high standing in Kenya’s virtual hall of sound art.

“Wanafikiri ni vako wapige

     tizi hatupotezi wakati

Utanipata nikihustle piga

     matill utadhani zaa…”

Watch the Micasa Sucasa clip

And here are the lyrics

Updated: May 27 2019

Dance for Me by Eugy ft. Mr. Eazi

Dance for Me is sung by two superb artistes from West Africa: (a) Ghanaian-born Eugy, who has lived in the UK for a long while; and, (b) Nigerian-born Mr. Eazi, who lives in Ghana, where he has blood relatives, and graduated with a degree in Mechanical Engineering! The duo has clearly leveraged its 'all mixed-up' background to outperform, already, in the often treacherous music industry. Dance for Me will always be for me the best AfroPop song in 2016. Indeed, it was, shall we say, "one in a billion."

READ: A short biography of Eugy

CLICK: A bio of Mr. Eazi

Dance for Me (produced by Team Salut and directed by Alexx Adjei) starts with Mr. Eazi's alpha voice bellowing and drawing all the attention, in a most dramatic fashion. "It's yo boy Eazi," he declares, "Eugy official. Music so sensual." There's the theme, for this 2016 theme-song of dance videos!

You sense you're on to something spectacular here. You are. And yet the only images you see of both singers in the first video below -- which was produced earlier, and which the TV channels usually show -- are Eugy's pleasantries as he walks by the leading lady (at 0:15 seconds), and Mr. Eazi's still picture (at 0:17 seconds). You don't see either Mr. Eazi or Eugy sing, or dance. Their voices, which after much temptation (one supposes) even break into a bit of rap, are all you hear throughout the song's 3:29-minute run. To see the duo in any sort of action, you have to watch the second video below. It is included here in order to keep faith with a dictum I see no reason to violate: that for a dance video, as for the more common music video, consideration for purposes of rating (or ranking) should not be given to any track in which the singer, or singers, appears only in 'canned' form (for more of this argument, click to read this post). This stance leads me to a point that is at once more fundamental and more self-evident: You can have a song without dance, but no dance without a song -- heard, remembered or improvised.  

Dance for Me is, as Mr. Eazi suggests, a sensual [very sensual] dance video, with an addictive beat that's used sparingly here, since the voices dominate. Good overpowering vibes course through it all. We see the 'glow' of all this in those agile female bodies -- those who dance, who indeed become dance itself, with so much finesse and such refined attention to a sensitively detailed choreography. 

The lyrics are truly tailor-made for smart, vigorous and athletic dancing. And every dancer, as good as the next, adds to the marvel that is the totality of this track -- nothing of which escapes the camera's eye. 

Incidentally, we are informed that Shoki and Alkayida (note the spelling), which are showcased here, are two popular dancing styles in Ghana right now. So sing along -- and dab -- if you please:

"Shoki shoki me say alkayida
Baby dance for me and dab."

*****************END*********************
  
Video 1 (Published on April 18, 2016):

Video 2 (Published on September 2, 2016):

CLICK HERE: Dance for Me Lyrics

A Thought ~ 8: Secret Texts

One day, what big and small things of life that were once well known shall become secrets much sought after and fought over. And after generations and generations and even millennia of amnesia and ignorance of them, they shall become self-evident and known again -- with much celebration of them as new truths which in truth would be age-old. And it is not that humankind has not seen or sensed or heard this kind of thing before, nor that we had no records and hidden texts to keep us from slumber and help along, nor that we can help it when the cycle returns to its old beginning, which shall appear as new as can ever be.

MUSIC (Tanzania): Mugacherere by Qboy ft. Rayvanny ft. Shetta

Mugacherere was written, and is sung, by Tanzania's Q Boy. The video features his compatriots Rayvanny and Shetta -- who are musical heavyweights in their own right. As Jeff Msangi tells us in a blog post, Q Boy is in the first place a designer, of some repute. His designs are worn by, inter alia, superstar Diamond Platnumz himself, the Owner/Director of a Tanzanian recording house WCB, whose profile is steadily rising in African music circles through its signature hiss, Wasafi, which is heard at the beginning of every song released under its label.

READ; Jeff Msangi (October 25, 2016) "New Video Titled Mugacherere..." in www.BongoCelebrity.com

The Mugacherere video was shot in Johannesburg by Director Nicorux, and the track was published on October 24th, 2016. Less than two months later, by the evening (7:30 pm) of December 12, it had gained 611,727 YouTube views, and plenty of TV exposure via East Africa's premier (and only recently launched) music channel, Trace Mziki, and possibly other outlets. 

The song is undoubtedly sung in Tanzania's Bongo Flava style, which is part of the larger AfroPop. Chunks of it are clearly in Kiswahili, and there's a line or so of English, but much is in a Bantu language (vernacular) which many Tanzanians do know, of course, but which is yet largely unidentified outside Tanzania -- but certainly not for long.


CLICK TO READ: Mugacherere Lyrics (via www.zelyrics.com)

Mugacherere has all the basic ingredients of a successful music video, particularly for the dance-hall: energetic and catchy tunes and tones to get everyone quickly started and continuously engaged, a colorful stage-set to tease the eye, an attractive and rousing band, creative (hopefully sing-along) lyrics with a theme or themes the audience can relate to, good and dependable lighting, and a well-calibrated sound system. 

I think, however, that there is more energy, but less passion, in Mugacherere than one finds in Upon Me, sung so wonderfully as well by Kiss Daniel and Sugarboy. The point here is that the two songs represent two styles put together for exactly the same purpose: to serenade a lady deemed suitable for a long-term relationship -- that is, for marriage -- and to do so successfully! So, you tell me... [You can still make a choice between the two styles, even if you're no longer in that game -- or not yet; and even if you're a firm believer in that pop adage: "No finance, no romance"].

A final point: In Mugacherere, we come upon a wonderfully creative bend in the road where flashes of brilliance bring into life a duet between voice (man/vocalist) and sound ('machine'/(musical instruments) which makes the soul soar, if temporarily, high above day-to-day sensibilities. You will recall, of course, that this was a technique, an innovation, which earlier generations of Congolese musicians frequently used, and which their fans celebrated. But it waned, and you don't witness it often enough, if at all, these days. 

MUSIC (Togo): Teré Teré by Toofan

Toofan is a super-inspired and talented duo from Togo, in West Africa. They go by the 'stage' names of Masta Just and Barabas, respectively. They have been around for more than a couple of years now, and their fame has only grown. Last month, November 2016, they released a very catchy track titled Teré Teré, which is making great waves right now on TV channels dedicated to music -- more specifically Trace Mziki and Trace Naija -- across Africa. It's catchy in both the sight and sound realms. Catchy and captivating.

       Click here for the video

The song is sung in French. But some East Africans would be forgiven to think that Toofan was using two words very familiar in their vernacular: Mano Ber (at 0:38, 0:47, 1:31, 1:40, 2:23, 2:32 and 3:18 of the video); and Sibuor (loudly at 1:42). Just aural illusions, rather than smart-alec allusions, though. For these East African ears, mano ber has a clear meaning: "that's good or fine" (whatever that is). Sibuor is the word for a lion (preferably a male lion in full gear, or mane). 

About five decades ago, one still recalls, a popular Jamaican song (by Chaka Demus and Pliers) titled Murder She Wrote (read the background story here) was similarly widely but mistakenly 'heard' and sung in Nairobi as "Mama Shiro"! And so it goes, charmingly.

Teré Teré is both the essential song and the beat which carries the dance along. It is, that is to say, a part of that niche in pop music which lays great emphasis on dancing -- group-dance (or choreographed dance routines) -- and so discourages extended or 'fancy' singing. This niche has been around for quite a while, really, but seems to be enjoying some kind of resurgence now. So the singing in Teré Teré is of limited scope. 

The only melody there is in Teré Teré, you don't hear -- you see. It is in the body-text of the men and women or girls of the very same Teré Teré. It is in how their bodies excite in unison, driven 'madly' sensuous by beat, mood and indigo circumstance. It is in the perfectly timed pauses that, in the 'witching moment, transmute into poses -- and postures, even -- that are themselves music to the eye. In the rippling glow of a slow-motion jig in the video by the lady in grey at the car's open doors, her back to us. It's in the awkwardly outstretched hands seeming to levitating the dancer who stretches them, with knees knocking, into the very heart of the dance. And finally in that naughty finger-pointing by the male protagonist, sneakily taunting fertile minds.

In short, to borrow a meme from Swiss cheese, Teré Teré is practically all dance, with just enough lyrics (and related singing) to hold the dance together. And Teré Teré is at once the song's title and the lyrics' (and the dance's) dominant punctuation mark.
Click Here for a Partial Transcript of: Teré Teré lyrics







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