Tanzania's Dully Sykes and Harmonize Impress in Inde

The song Inde, given to us by two young singers, Dully Sykes and Harmonize, epitomizes as much as anything else the emergence (the arrival) onto the continental stage of a swagging, super self-confident peer-group of Tanzanian millennials eager to shake things up more than a little bit, musically, and thus claim a place on the mountain-top. Indeed, they are eager to explore modes of expression quite discrepant with, and quite unexpected in, Dar-Es-Salaam's cautious cultural infrastructure, which, ironically, has produced them just as they are artistically, and seems willing to let them be. 

Together with a good number of other music videos, Inde symbolizes a brave new world for Tanzanian artistes -- who play second fiddle to no one. They are a veritable energy source: Swahili, the language in which they sing, is predominantly theirs (and as 'pure' as you want it delivered). The genre, Bongo Flava, is theirs. The threads? The sky's the limit to how they can put them all together. Fine threads, then, and fine tunes reveal both good taste and conscious grooming. 

Their fan-base, which devours all this, is large and devoted and getting larger, and always has been. It gives them strength and drive. And, whatever the explanation, they seem more successful in their talent-related entrepreneurial pursuits than their Kenyan and South African counterparts. Indeed, more so than their own country seems to be still in the eyes of many observers, given its lingering socialistic past.  

Overall, then, Inde is a winning song. The set is neat. The singers' and dancers' stage-presence is truly attractive. I see fine, attention-grabbing moves that really add flavor to the whole thing. This almost masks a consistently jarring noise in the background -- emanating, it might seem, from a tone-deaf source. But it's almost certain that this vexation is computer-generated percussion gone awry. One does frequently encounter this tendency to generate instrumental sounds in that way among musicians looking to cut stifling production costs. All that said, Inde definitely deserves a place among Africa's Top 40 Pop Songs of 2016.

READ: Inde Lyrics

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:

Raj's Le' KING, and All That

Raj, a Kenyan HipHop/Rap artiste, is, well, a new kid on the block. His music is surprisingly good, despite a few rough edges even he will acknowledge. Soapstone edges, so to speak. He seems to just cut through whatever it is that's in his way, and to entertain unabashedly. Hip hip! With quaint humor, even. Here, listen to, and enjoy, his Le' KING:


Click to watch the video

Want to know what Raj's all about in Le' King? Here are the lyrics (in a mix of languages, including his mother-tongue -- Ekegusii), none too soon. One just has to patiently decipher it all.

In a 'past life', Raj sang Obe Baba, if you want to know. And more. Click to watch the RMX version, sung with awesome Stella Mwangi of Shut it Down fame. 

Here, courtesy of K24 TV, is even more stuff about The Raj himself, who's an alumnus of the University of Nairobi. Ah, so's Dela (she of Adabu fame):

Click to watch the video

Burna Boy's Pree Me

In recently-released Pree Me, we chance upon sublime musicality by an artiste whose creativity has pretty consistently soared to the highest level. I heard it for the first time only this morning. 

Burna Boy's artistry is, here, pitched at perhaps its most spectacular and introspective -- all at once. The tonality, the beat and the rhythm are superbly fused and pretty captivating. He makes it all, this controlled burst of cerebral performance -- this suave opening-up of the soul in searing lyrics -- seem reassuringly easy and one-dimensional to the up-and-coming. But it ain't. 

HERE, THE LYRICS: Pree Me

Ketchup's Baby Paulina (ft. Uhuru)

In Baby Paulina, Nigeria's enigmatic Ketchup looks and sounds and moves, decidedly, like Awilo Longomba, who is his musical father. Indubitably. The same agility, the same joie de vivre, is all we see. But there's a kind of hyper-schizophrenic wariness and unease in the son that the father is not burdened by, as I remember. A Bond-like concern with ever-present existential dangers from sworn but unknown enemies afflicts the son. Or is it (it is) all an act, to remember?

Ketchup's alter ego simply can't have any other relationship, but with Baby Paulina -- whom he can't quite have! He's on a permanent quest, for her. That's the root of his recurring anguish, despite the availability of tempting alternatives. Anguish morphs into these bursts of primeval despair we hear in the chorus:

"Baby Paulina dey do like sey 
She no give me her numba eh!
And Baby Paulina dey do like sey 
She no dey feelin de lamba eh!..."

[Y sez: Fyn poetry dat!]

Yet Ketchup is steadfast, and this makes for a sensitive and wonderful song. Though it is the case that all novelty in due course fades, I think you'll never forget the first impressions that form in your mind with this captivating song by a man anguished by the love he has for his elusive babe. Images, sounds, voices, passions -- and the crazy story-line -- all blend into a brief moment of a highly-charged spectacle.

Uhuru, a South African group, features strongly in Baby Paulina, as they have done in an unusually large number of pretty good songs by various artistes across Africa. They are a true credit to the finished song, with a shoulder to lean on always at the ready for their restless buddy. Their signature hollering, which here tempers Ketchup's despair, adds a rich flavor to the offering. Their presence represents balance, and the promise of a good ending, even if only after we, the audience, are long out of the picture.

What lets the production down is the unnecessary and careless copycat instrumentation that's so noticeable in the first 25 seconds of the song. But all is soon forgotten as the feeling frenzy sets in and overcomes everything that there is there to overcome. And the ending is a truly spirited and even agitated affair, and itself culminates in a veritable montage of unfettered voice and body language and percussion and trumpeting and (did I hear?) sax. All as one. And all in the name of the one Baby Paulina that there is in the whole universe.

NOTE: Baby Paulina was published on December 4th, 2015. It has garnered 40,397 views to-date, as I publish this commentary.

MUSIC: Yvonne Darcq's Fire

Yvonne Darcq (YDQ) urges all of us who care to listen: "Don't start a fire, huwezi zima!" [Don't start a fire you can't (huwezi) put out (zima)]. Mmmm. That's zima, not Zuma, OK?

Fire is a surprisingly 'high-definition' song, visually and aurally. 'Dropped' only on December 3, 2015 -- just under two weeks ago -- it has 1,914 views so far. I think this number will rise steadily as more and more folks tune it.

A confession: I didn't think much of YDQ in Ooh Lala Oui Oui, a song she released earlier this year with the talented and hard-working Diva, Victoria Kimani. But Fire, something of a controlled blast, is a pleasant discovery, from the very start. It forces a reassessment of the earlier song by the likes of me. Bravo!

YDQ thus joins the Legion from the East which seems poised to stealthily offer a refreshing alternative to the Nigerian juggernaut, while South African artistes seemingly continue, in the main, to grope in the dark for a winning genre.

A strong eastern counter-force to the Nigerian wave can only enrich African music overall, don't you think. It may, indeed, prompt the Nigerians to reach even higher than then so far have.

I think I see early signs that we're about to reach a musical critical mass -- to witness a burst of awesome creativity in all directions -- here in Africa. Waiting with bated breath.

But we do need about 50 or so actively creative sorts from Tanzania, Kenya and Uganda to have the effect I have in mind. That is, fifty or so artistes each releasing 3 or 4 singles each year.

Click Here: A very useful bio of Yvonne Darq by Bottomline Kenya

Music (Nigeria): The Skuki Duo ft. Olamide Sing Peteru

Peteru (published on November 4, 2014) is a wonderfully crafted music video. The Skuki duo and Olamide, all Nigerians and formidable artistes in their respective rights, clearly outperform here, with a high level of artistry and stage presence. Skuki are cool cats, is what I'd say. Their laid back demeanor, effortless voicing and subtle swag add great punch to Peteru.  Olamide is, as always, Baddo, a great and versatile African entertainer.

The music has a great beat and verse; and the beat and the various dance segments, specifically, are in perfect synchrony, Yet the chorus is inexplicably jarring and, decibel-wise, overdone.

Still, captivating, top-level dance routines by beautiful, classy and truly accomplished girls is what marvellous thing we have here in abundance. 

It's puzzling that. a superb music video though it is, Peteru continues to be underrated by the fandom (227,874 YouTube views at the last count). But no matter.

MUSIC VIDEO: Olamide's Theatrical Performance in "Falila Ketan"

Super-artiste Olamide's Falila Ketan is as much a theatrical performance, of no mean order, as it is sung poetry. Sung poetry in an 'enterprising', rapid-fire kind of way. Rhymes and rhythm mix. Poetic reason reigns. Juxtaposed memes blend. Beats at treble the speed of the beating 'eart beat. A bunch of jazzed motifs all stringed together, are all the rage. In this raging music video.

There's thrill in that speed, in that cocophonic beat about a few sturdy minutes? Betcha. Everytin is, you know, hapa kwa hapa: Words, sounds, visual images, naughtiness. Chuckling. Gals who don care what u tink abt de twerking ('an den sum'). Nay, who axe u -- an who u tink u r. Who, even, dare say it's yo prooooblem, Mansa!

Guess dey dident 'ave dat kind of hot n hotter stuff or t'in or rump in de, dat sing-song Sung (Song?) Dynasty dey toke of.


Click here to watch the video clip

MUSIC: Leriq ft. Wizkid, a Winning Combination in "Say You Love Me"

For some perspective, here are three tweets I wrote in June this year about this collaboration between two Nigerian artistes -- Leriq and Wizkid. Wizkid, as keen observers know, is already popular across Africa and beyond, but he can do more and he can reach higher. I was highlighting multi-talented Leriq's value-addition to Wizkid's creative art, a contribution which is fairly obvious to me -- and, I hope, to Wizkid; and which I hope, not against hope, will last:

@Mauri Yambo: @YouTube Has #Wizkid gotten his #mojo back? Last time he truly shone was with #Ojuelegba. He's since been coasting & riding into creative...
7:06 PM - 7 Jun 2015

@MauriYambo  Jun 7: @YouTube ...into creative turbulence. Then #LeriQ steps in with a collabo & we're surprised 2 find that W has a wider vocal range than e...

‏@MauriYambo  Jun 7: @YouTube than even he (W) probably thought he had. I think "Say You Love Me" is a wonderfully crafted gem. Big up all around. 


DO ALSO READ: Iterview With Leriq

Click here to view the Ojuelegba video

PSquare and Dave Scott "Bring it On"

PSquare and Dave Scott Bring it On in a fine musical collaboration. Witness mentoring as cool art, and art as a tool for goodness. 

Top and topping act here by three super-confident artistes. Sophisticated, uplifting performance. Effortless motion. Superb melody inside great visuals.


Click here to watch the video

Kanda Bongo Man's "Muchana": The Makings of a Classic

Watch: Video of Kanda Bongoman's Muchana

Yesterday (May 26th) evening, as I drove and listened to Nairobi's Classic 105, Larry Asego, the 'DJ' of the hour, played Kanda Bongo Man's single titled Muchana, which was released as a video in 2012, if my source is correct. It brought back many memories of what Kanda Bongo Man meant to a certain generation of us. A caller endorsed Asego's comment that if one wasn't moved by the guitarist's solo moment in Muchana, then one needed to have the ears checked. I silently concurred, behind the wheel.

That radio-play has prompted the lines that follow.

Kanda is a much-adulated Congolese/Zairean musician in large swathes of East Africa -- Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania. He is particularly fondly regarded as a versatile singer with awesome dance routines by those who came of age (I won't define coming-of-age) in the Seventies and Eighties. But his reputation began to fade, at first imperceptibly, with the coming of the video -- and then, specifically, video music. It's a fate that has befallen most of his great compatriots, certainly in the countries I have mentioned.

It can be said in retrospect that Congolese musicians of Kanda's age, and those who shone earlier than he did and probably served, at least  remotely, as his sounding-boards -- titans such as Franco (a.k.a. Luambo Luanzo Makiadi), Tabu Ley (Rochereau), Bozi Boziana (with his lovely troupe), Pepe Kalle (with his two 'faces' -- here's the other), Papa Wemba; and the leading divas: Mbilia Bel and Tshala Muana -- were tutored on audio recording and live performance, on some sort of stage that was invariably set on minimalist principles. Kanda was something of an exception, to be sure, with his stylish (to the older ones perhaps rebellious and precocious) dress-code. In general, one can say that older Congolese musicians were never -- or, more accurately, never became -- adept at the nuances of show which video music came increasingly to demand of the lead singer and the instrumentalist and the bit players.

With the video, a fusion of sight and sound rather quickly became the defining feature of popular music -- the very genre (let's call it Lingala Pop) which the Congolese certainly assumed their fans would forever associate them with. Sight required a choreography of colorfully dressed and agile bodies -- bodies dressed more modishly, if not more minimally as well, than in the not-so-distant heyday of Congolese music, when Lingala and music meant the same thing.

Kanda could be most of that, and indeed was (to some still is) something of a Johnny-come-lately dandy. So was/is the irrepressible Awilo Longomba, and some of the younger artistes. But many veterans began quickly to look like veterans in fading garbs -- and to lose their appeal and fans across the region.

But even for impresarios like Kanda, the fact that the musician (at one with his/her band) was not the master of all his/her set, or stage, or 'production' became more and more obvious with the rapid evolution of the music video, incorporating the increased 'equalization' of audio and video components of the totality of a single, or an LP.

I am trying to say here that a good music video now requires (has indeed to some degree always required) for its artistic and commercial success a certain mix of things: the well-endowed if less glamorous contribution of the producer, the director, the set designer and the camera woman or man. In all of Africa, the Nigerian music industry -- representing a highly competitive market segment, energized by a huge consumer base, and lodged in a culture where highly-charged 'theatrical performance' is deep-rooted -- has been the most successful in cracking this 'code', since circa 2013-2014. That is to say, it stands out as a country with the entrepreneurial and material resources, and audience-base, required to monetize it. Other countries will follow.

Earlier yesterday, I'd had a sort of interior monologue about what constitutes a classic, and how 'hits' morph into what we loosely or strictly call classics. In brief, we can say (it is widely known, for sure) that, in pop music, the hit that tops the chart(s) in the first week of the year is not necessarily the hit of the second week or the month, though it might be. The first month's hit is not necessarily going to be the hit of the quarter or the half-year, but it just might be. The hit of the half-year may or may not be the hit of the year. One year's chart-topper is highly unlikely to be the next year's. Today's fans, for whom last year is by definition passe, just want to celebrate something newly 'dropped' -- something of this year -- which conveys a sense of now and, therefore (certainly implicitly), of temporal movement. 

But underlying this 'tradition of the new', this fixation on the 'here today, gone tomorrow' moment, is a deeper interest, as one grows older, in enduring 'likes' (that is, in what we have widely favored in the past and still like, and like to like still); in, as we say in Kiswahili, Zilipendwa (or Zilizopendwa). Likes we can grow with and pass on from our cohort to the one after us, and then from one generation to the next, on and on as time flies, are what we, all of us, come to know as classics.

Kanda Bongoman's Muchana is certainly on the way to becoming an African classic, of the audio kind. The visuals aren't so hot, as I have been suggesting, and could perhaps be tastefully remixed.

'Kanda the Dandy' is hardly to be seen in Muchana. It's as though he wanted inexplicably but temporarily to appear here under the cover of drabness, in a visually drab video. The gals, though, are fine and supple -- as fine and supple as can be. As if to reclaim the sapeur tradition in which he was born, and of which he is obviously proud, he resurfaces, an all-in peacock with a surprising twist, in Sweet.

It will be said in the days to come, I imagine, that straight out of the "Heart of Darkness," sapeurism, a sartorial classic in its own right, as supremely confident of its body language and ingenuity as of its view of the world, its weltanschauung, was able to create a classic or two, and then a fistful, in another genre -- music -- which it offered to a skeptical world not quite ready to grasp the connections. [A video of Congo Brazzaville Sapeurs here]


Here, a crisply produced video of Muchana Lyrics 


NOTE: Last paragraph added on May 31, 2015. Some editing done on October 10, 2017. Link to the Lyrics added on May 5, 2019.