In October 1939, Winston Churchill famously described Russia as "...a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma; but perhaps there is a key..." While Dorobucci is in no way Russia (which is no piece of music), attempting to decode it here and now makes that quote fairly apt, it seems to me
What I am trying to do here is think aloud why
Dorobucci is as consequential a musical creation as many, including yours truly, think it is, certainly for Africa, in these times, and why it is something of an enigma encasing a mystery inside of which there lies a riddle. And why I have personally come to like it as much as I do, and likewise why I (already) rate it so highly among its peers. The
key, the reasons, may be hard to pin down, even for a Churchill, but the liking is real -- and symptomatic, in some undeniable way, I think, of how I approach and size up other songs and singers -- and not simply or crudely subjective.
WATCH:
The Dorobucci Video
- [For those who may be interested: Here are the Dorobucci lyrics]
Dorobucci, the song, is a veritable tropical storm. It is a tropical storm and more: a modern-day symphony of a kind, a non-stop stream of musicality, and a promise of the reign of cheer and good times over despondency and bland existence. It is, I want to add, a work of art depicting seven magic voices painted on a huge virtual canvas framed with the invisible
hardware play of a nonchalant band.
It is an epic with a narrative
, such as is revealed here, that's relayed through a galaxy of earthly stars, whose twinkles chart its singular course, and milestones along the way. Each of them, tributaries so to speak, offers their respective 'tributes' -- to Dorobucci, the master, he of mythical power. Tributaries and tributes joined as one, in a burst of lyrical energy.
And yet, taking (or not taking) the whole thing as one indivisible 1, it quickly dawns on one, in an aha! moment, that there is a subtle imbalance here, a certain synchronized mismatch, between voice and musical instrumentation, deliberately inserted for an incipient, an insurgent, choral supremacism, alongside and integral to all that stream-of-vivacity that's Dorobucci, the song.
That is to say, the human voice turns out to be more versatile and more venturesome and more in command here than all of the musical hardware in play. This is no accident. The hardware is intended quite deliberately to 'give' some, rather muffled, 'necessary noise' to the whole production -- and nothing more. It is, for all practical purposes, otherwise left to its own devices. This is quite a sleight of hand which I hadn't taken note of when I first found that I liked the song. We are resigned, without truly realizing it, to the same droning ruffle and beat of the instruments, as voice dominates, and shines, frontally and in the background. And it works, animated a capella of a kind with refined sensibilities.
Still, the lyrics rock and truly rock, but without soaring. They're wonderful to 'behold' with the ear -- which, I dare say, is more charitable that the eye -- but essentially stick to prosaic praises of Dorobucci, the man of mystery. No matter. The choral ambience, the only thing that somehow, emphatically, matters here, wins. Like a bright but fragile flower with, nonetheless, a sturdy impact on the visual sensation on a sunny day, I think.
The song starts with a boom, befitting a boombox; with a powerful line and an explosion of voice (led by Don Jazzy's, no less) which lays bare The Mavin crew's intentions and seven-as-one frame of mind: "Dorooo Dorobucci Oyebe O." Don Jazzy's baritone conquers all the terrain, and all therein. The tone, right there, for those with long memories, seems (if you don't quite know the language in which it is sung) straight out of the many Congolese lines one has heard throughout one's musical life; so to speak, of course. Oyebe has the ring of (be, 'be like') Oyembe.
READ: Jim Donnett (2014) "Don Jazzy: The voice of the Nigerian Music Industry?"
Let's briefly track the stars, one by one, and get to c the megapixel image of Dorobucci that emerges from their collective art:
Don Jazzy:Certain signifiers of power and influence are arrayed here, for all to draw the mot obvious conclusions from: the boardroom presentation, the White House, luxury golf, the New York skyline. For him, Dorobucci is, unabashedly, him: Doro Don. Doro Jazzy. Doro Big. Not just big but double extra large. Large as the implicit notion in the XXL icon that's quickly flashed in the video as though it were some naughty thing. Some sort of 'inverted' -- coded, subliminal -- 007 which Di'Ja later picks up and kids about, even. Yet why does "Doro frosh pass anybody wey Doro meet" sound like an allusion to something else: "Five % body weight"? OK: "You know say Doro heavy". It is not the images we focus on. The ear insists on voice. Voice makes a persistent and unchallenged beeline for the ear.
Reekado Banks: Out there in the park with young apprentice dancers. Earnest dancing the aft away for one and only Dorobucci. Soap-bubble blowing into the sunny h/air -- they're into a thing: "Dorobucci mama n mo O," Asserts RB. A big-baton thing. Except for the English, RB sounds quite Lingala-easy: "e bu onye ebe o". It is good, with a sort of raw goodness.
Tiwa Savage: Doro is with the Diva, of course; and Diva with Doro: "Doro na Diva". Diva in her John Lennon eye-ware. Sophisticated Mama of the Enterprise. Composer composed enough to tease n 'play' with her help, who loves 2 play. To shoo her up the re-imagined ladder. Word juggler. Doro Hot! Don't have to "trow" her weight around. "Doro you, Doro me!" Here's to Dorobucci "with the baddest crew". "Do Do Dorobucci" -- cheekily playful, without looking it. The Diva is class.
Dr. Sid: "Doro Suru. Doro Lere." Delightful piggy-back push-ups. Idyllic setting. All 'em social media devices and ideas. DoRonaldo. Doro Messi. Slow boat-ride into a Luxor-like sunset, toward some sort of island hideout and mo push-ups, p'raps. Dr. Sid just wants to make you envious -- for/of Doro.
Di'Ja: Flirtatious n shy playfulness be the code here, too: "Doro Bad". "Double 07". "Doro like for do anything wey Doro like for do".
Korede Bello: Suave, winking African Prince. "Doro catchi anybody wey Doro fish Doro." WinKing. Winkpin. Winkler. (T)winkling Star. "Doro Mega, Doro Super, Doro Star, Doro Mega Super Star O."
D'Prince: Truly in his element. The most animated of the lot, 'preachifying', inside of a casino too
: "Doro is a cheerful giver" Money spender. Doro Money. Doro Bola. The kind of man...
Then the outdoor summation scene -- with everyone gathered, smiling and accomplished and so relieved -- is happy Ness itself. The eye darts hither and thither, too, to round up the stars, as Reekado B, singing, suggests that it's alright to let the Doro, and the magic, go now. Let it go. What we have in the end are the vocals and the visuals, which both conquer and linger.
I conclude with these remarks about
Dorobucci (which, incidentally, runs for all of 4:41 minutes): It is, for me, a refreshing manifestation, a proud flagship, of Africa's cultural renaissance and self-confident assertiveness. It is many things in one, and one thing in many forms; a bunch, all at once, of interlocking similes and metaphors. It is, and is like, an endlessly flowing
super river too, self-renewed by its own cycle of water. And just like Dorobucci's ever-present presence all through the song, so is Don Jazzy's distinctive voice always there, somewhere, in the background, always helping the song along.
REFERENCES
Here are some links to different views on the import of the Dorobucci meme:
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- 3. The Craziest Meanings of ‘Dorobucci’ Given by Nigerians via
