[Tanzania}
A mentor's magical intonation -- Jibebe (carry yourself) -- fills all the air, from start to finish, in this year's (2018's) greatest pop song out of Africa. The word's not "carry your own cross", but your own self. "Jibebe, bebe."
From the song's very first syllables, you know you've stumbled upon an other-worldly "echo" system. This finely woven tapestry of sound and motion -- of song and dance -- plays by its own inspired rules. These it reveals in sudden turns of phrase, as the narrative constantly surges forth. The montage of voice and body texts is thus, in its stretch and layering, unprecedented. And all-conquering. It's all so very cosy as well.
As one may discern from its confounding lyrics, all in presumed Swahili, Jibebe is also a 'dog-whistle' pointer, a musical ode of sorts, to the untapped power of gibberish -- gibberish as a lyrical form. It's not that we're witness to this creative device for the first time here. Kruzz's Bad, though far less dramatic and not as consequential, might be labeled a 'deliberate' and fitting precursor -- from the flatterer's angle. But Jibebe takes us to a wholesomely new level -- to moments where meanings don't seem to matter, and only how one feels does.
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