MUSIC (Nigerian): KJV's voice in Common Sense

In my post on Patoranking's song titled Make Am, I made the remarks that I reiterate below about the distinctive Nigerianness in KJV's song titled "Common Sense". I revisited those arguments in a piece that I later wrote, and in which I sought to pin down with some examples the particular features of what I understood to be The Nigerian Voice --  which I see as such a hugely consequential component an even larger voice: "the African Voice". 

Critics may of course want to be persuaded that there is indeed a unified African Voice, as opposed to a rich montage of Voices. Some may indeed push that argument to what may seem, to them, its logical conclusion. That is, by querying the very notion of a 'single' Nigerian Voice. But I'll soldier on, remembering that in our student days in the US, it was fairly easy to tell a Nigerian's voice apart from other West African voices -- and certainly from East African "ones". 

Here is what I said about KJV's "Common Sense":

"...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."

You can tell from the lyrics (see the link below) that there's a unified theme in the video and the lyrics, and that it is, unsurprisingly, rather frivolous. But that's beside the point I'm making here. I'm talking about form, not content. My attention is more particularly drawn to the vocal (the audio) 'identity' (or markers) of the song that makes it so copiously representative of a genre I've called the Nigerian Voice. 

It is not just the accent, but you can't take accent out of the broader context of the song. Moreover, there is a big and inseparable chunk of it here. It is not just the lyrics, either; but the words are writ and voiced in an indubitably Nigerian tone. All of this is a matter of degree, of course -- between KJV's piece and what we hear in any selection from Olamide, Phyno, Wizkid, Don Jazzy, Davido, Patoranking, Kiss Daniel, Sugarboy, Korede Bello, Timaya and the like. But KJV voice stands out, and it is wondrously heavy-duty and relatively/infectiously 'unvarnished'. Hey, it's neither Ghanaian nor Congolese, nor South African, nor Tanzanian. It's not Kenyan, for sure. Far from it, in fact. And it's not Angolan (if you're thinking of C4Pedro), or Ugandan, or Togolese. It's not Cameroonian, either. Just listen to the singer's vocal rendition of these already very Nigerian lines:

"Jeje I dey eyeh nile alayo

The boys are happy 

And the girls are joyful 

Before you know oya 

We dey my place aha 

She take a selfie 

On top my bently"


Click to watch the Common Sense video

Here are the Lyrics for KJV's Common Sense

As I conclude, I want to say this: I'm sure that Nigerians in London can quickly tell a Nigerian voice when they hear one. In music, KJV's voice is distinctively such a one -- for me at least. Incidentally, KJV is shorthand for King Jiggy Vokal.


READ (for content): Thomas Paine's Letter/Post to Revolutionary Americans about "Common Sense"

Go Down by Yemi Alade

Go Down, Yemi Alade's latest single, is a knock-out in all respects. All. The beat is red HOT. It's a banger. The tune is finely keyed and all-alluring. The singing is double all of that, as Yemi surprises everyone, one suspects, as she confidently breaks out of her recent 'formula' and comfort zone. She'll have to explain herself how it all happened.

The dancing fits right in, and everyone we see is wonderfully upbeat in those finest of threads. What fine moves, altogether! The whole thing is truly top-notch. Fact is, it starts hot and ends hotter. Yemi, coiffed to perfection, leads her pack with passion. There's rousing melody in her superbly, and newly, tuned voice. She's possessed here, and all eyes (guys eyes in 'particula') will possess her in return.

These are early days still, but one suspects that Go Down (published in January 2018) is going to be a top contender with fans all across the continent this year. Yemi herself must surely be super pleased with what she's gone and done with her re-tooled voice, and all. Bravo! Bravo, too, to Director Paul Gambit -- without whom...


Click to watch the video


And click here for the Lyrics

"Mongali" by Tabu Ley Ft. Afrisa International

I love this song, Mongali, without knowing what Tabu Ley's words, and lyrics as a whole, are really all about. Always have, though a few guesses are all I can come up with. In that, I am in the company of millions of Soukous -- or, shall we say, #LingalaPop? -- fans. And so they validate my peace of mind.

Click to listen to the audio

Still, three things have always drawn me to it, though subconsciously for the longest time, and kept it 'alive' in memory's store. First, the inexplicable magic of melody in the singer's voice. Second, the enthusiasm and utter musicality (as I understand music) in the band's many-sided engagement. Third, the truly fine and sustained montage of sounds that have always ensued -- for me.  

Sheebah's John Rambo

John Rambo is Sheebah's latest personification of her love-idea. He's a good excuse for fine and suggestive moves and postures, as well as lovey lyrics. And she's of course singing for all 'sisters' who have felt love. And all the guys who want in.

Click to watch the video

Her incomparable voice comes through here, fully fit for the occasion -- what with that quivering touch, sparingly heard. Her art is finely finished.

Siza's Vocal Assets Glitter in "Say What You Want"

While Eugy stays happily in the background, Siza, with her regal mien and enchanting eyes, stands out in Say What You Want. She has a rich array of sovereign vocal assets, which she deploys with not a jot of earthly ruffle. Among her 2017 royal peers, they're especially special. 

Click to watch the video

She raises not her voice, and yet inspires absolute loyalty from all that she surveys and reigns over. She is the epitome of grace and charm. She is, verily, a ladybird. Her version of reggae, her very vision, soothes and becalms. It enchants, even.

A Thought ~ 18: Claims

It goes without saying that, in scholarship, the claims that you make must be evidence-based. Citation is the first step in this journey. You enrich it with well-distributed paraphrases and quotations. But your voice must be clearly heard, as well, through it all.

Sheebah's Nkwatako

Queen Sheeba isn't bashful. No, no, no! Which is a good thing. She sings like a snake-charmer -- with, perhaps, her namesake's (her role model's) beguiling voice. The slowed-down tempo in Nkwatako (which means "Touch me" in Luganda) is a disarming ruse, central to her secret art of war -- and her seduction. It accentuates her unique vocal cords, which demand it here; and around which every command and everything else revolves.

She, Sheebah, dances like a rebel queen, at a makeshift camp of her own choosing, outside the gates of the last fortress, north of something, which she's fixing to overrun with her time-travelling troops -- on her way to meet her fabled king. And so to realize her grand plan. 

Her dancing and connecting motions are thus by design, and sprinkled with allusions. It's an art-form masquerading both as pure war-dance and pure theater; a fleeting homage to, a cross between, the choreographed motions of the dance-hall and today's (and tomorrow's) stylized ballet. It is, at its core, a muted fertility dance -- with accent on (her own) desire. 

The costumes we see on everyone involved, and the funky mix of colors in motion, are a pure fashion do brought in to camouflage, in plain sight, the real intentions. And the music, ah yes the music, is the real weapon of war here: Hard-edged and yet harmonizing, spartan (and so without flourish), mobilizing and equal to the task.  

READ: Felista Esolio's Review of Nkwatako

NOTE: The lyrics of this Ugandan song are an intriguing mix of Luganda and English.

READ: A Version of the Nkwatako Lyrics

Oritse Femi's Awoo Ewaa

In Tomorrow, as I noted in a previous comment, Oritse Femi wonderfully blended rap with melody of a uniquely Oristeferian kind to give us a deeply felt song. He does not disappoint this time around, either. 

There is no rap in Awoo Ewaa, you will see, but there is all the passion and the melody from before. Not only from Tomorrow, but also, I think one remembers, from Igbeyawo. Awoo Ewaa is simply the most emotionally intense of all the leading African songs I've heard in all of 2016. But it is more. And all this is thanks for the most part to Oriste Femi's all-conquering and irrepressible signature voice. He, who is his own favorite artiste.

Thus, whether it is an Igbeyawo (= wedding) motif, appropriately dressed for, or (as in Awoo Ewaa) a street-theatrical (all-people) power-pushing performance with accent on the authenticity of day-to-day and mostly peri-urban life -- and chic -- Oritse Femi excels with a fervor that never abandons him and that he never does. It's awesome!

SEE ALSO: Aiye Mi

The video, directed by Avalon Okpe, runs for 3:40 minutes of unrelenting lumpen-proletarian, almost religious, animation. The street crowd is engaged in an intensely physical way, but not aurally. There is a symphony of visual things and body texts, but the voice, the clipped and soaring voice, is Oriste Femi's -- and his alone. And nothing overshadows it. Nothing.

An invisible band delivers mesmerizing and almost hypnotic sounds. The music in its totality, fusing with the street dancing, makes for a fine and moving celebration. The intensity is everyone's, and so is the joy: "All the mama and papa dem shake body". The rhythm of bodies, young and older, is lumpen (as already suggested); here where life's usual chaff is not swept under some civic carpet. And where there is no rust cover. Organized frenzy is all, in the end -- "Jakomo"!   

I conclude by echoing Oritse Femi with these words, from his lyrics:

"oya make everybody dey dance oh
awooo ewaa
everybody dey dance oh
awooo ewaa
everybody
awooo ewaa" ~ Oritse Femi

Click to watch the video


HERE: The lyrics for Awoo Ewaa

Iconic Mokili Mobimba

For all intents and purposes, Mokili Mobimba was played in and for the generation before the video, at the floodgates of Africa's independence decade in the very early Sixties. The video was still more that fifteen years from becoming the meme it became. 

Music video wasn't a thing, then, when Joseph Kabassele and Rochereau (Tabu Ley) sang this song and Nico Kassanda played the guitar and other players played. We knew the song before we knew the singers, and it didn't matter much that we didn't. Only that we loved the vibes and that they seeped, without our knowing, into our subconscious and our souls, there in Nairobi's Eastlands. 

And then one forgot who the musicians had been and what the song's title ever was. It was a kind of forgetfulness that made the forgetting immaterial. But something did linger.

Decades later, long after the identities of the singers and the players (but not the 'play') were swept out of mind and into oblivion by the many 'growing-up' things that occupied boomer minds and wouldn't let go, I found myself, at infrequent and particularly nostalgic moments, humming distorted snippets of Mokili Mobimba. This wonderful tune buried so deep in my memory but whose prosaic particulars stubbornly resisted recapture.

Today (on this day!) the prodigal song returned, in a manner of speaking. It returned because I bumped into it during a frenzied google-search which was unplanned and so started out of the blue. It returned because I came upon it. And, I wanted to say as I finish, I won't let it go no more. But how does one chain a force greater than one?


Here, the audio:

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: 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: 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.

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. 

[Put Your Love] Upon Me by Kiss Daniel x Sugarboy

At face value, the song titled [Put Your Love]Upon Me, by Kiss Daniel and Sugarboy, can be understood in two contending but plausible senses. In the first sense, two young men are 'fighting' with (by means of) song over the heart of a girl -- a Mona Lisa, a Rihanna -- whom both love dearly but rather differently and would, truly, love to marry. 

In the second sense, two lovesick types do a 'duet', with verbal swag, about deep love for a lovely girl -- for this "pretty fine girl" who is suitable in every which way for marriage. In this latter sense, the story-line is not about winner-take-all competition between two earnest beaux actually ready to settle. Rather, it provides a template for the expression of intense love for a member of the opposite sex, in the abstract. Thus, without complications, it allows two singers to share, almost concurrently, expressions of love for their undivided "object of desire". But what if the video had each singing to a different lady? You be the judge. 

The video is fairly and deliberately 'laid back', as there's little dancing to see, and the singing (and the beat that goes with it) are measured. The set's lighting system consistently dims when Sugar Boy and the supporting cast appear. It really only brightens when the spotlight turns to Kiss Daniel himself. Overall, however, the ambience is decidedly mellow.

Except for certain clumsy expressions in the lyrics (such as "You're supposed to marry someone like me" or "You better say yes, you better say yes"), Upon Me is a captivating song. And Kiss Daniel's romantic voice is a (surprisingly) wonderfully modulated anchor for the aural feast that the video, nearly in its entirety, becomes -- for some 1:54 precious-as-gold minutes (the entire video runs for 3:21 minutes). Then there's a well-calibrated echo-system (an 'echo-chamber' of sorts) which, in the moments that it is in full play, adds amazing depth to the bouquet of sounds -- melody, harmony, pitch, beat -- that tease the ear and, truly, add unforgettable magic to the proceedings. Still, as so often happens in video productions of African music (with which I am familiar), the percussion instruments used here succeed only in projecting a grating effect.

Click on the icon below to play the song, and hear Sugarboy croon ~ "Baby come closer oh, so I can treat you better. Come closer":

QUOTE: "I'll be all all yours, faithfully oh yea" ~ Kiss Daniel

Remember this refrain played by the invisible band?
Tindaa Ti, Tindaa Ti,

Tindaa, Tindaa, Tindaa Ti,
Tindaa Ti, Tindaa Ti, 
Tindaa, Tindaa, Tindaa Ti.

HERE: The lyrics of Upon Me

MUSIC: SPETXA ONE by C4 Pedro

Spectacular's the word for C4 Pedro's (a.k.a. King cKwa) Spetxa One. It's a song of seduction -- it'll make the rooster turn pale with envy. It's a song for his -- this Angolan's, Everyman's -- Special One; a super-animated ballad, for sure. And it's spectacular in every dimensional space: The high-energy dance scenes, choreographed to the highest level of refinement -- as the ever-present camera eye, shadowing each unmissable move, nudges us in every instant to see --  the lyrics, C4 Pedro's dominant voice, the sunniest of atmospheres, the beat, the finely controlled tempo of sound and motion, the everything! It's a wonderful blend, shall we say in the end, of passion and nimble muscularity. 

HERE: Lyrics of Spetxa One



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#TheYamboSelection

Is it Because I Love You ~ Lil Kesh ft. Patoranking

An earnest voice.

Youthful zest.
Singalongish.
Draws the attention...
Party Animist.

Gud.

MUSIC (9ja): Simi's "Open and Close" is Like a Bolt From the Deep Country

Simi's voice in Open and Close gives the impression of someone totally new, a stranger, suddenly thrust onto an unfamiliar, camera-lit stage with a private crowd-sourced crowd of a kind; and then asked to sing-dance by someone who obviously doesn't know what dance means where she comes from. In fact, she brings herself there; no protocol observed but her master's voice; and deliberately adopts this persona which even her Ikoyi wouldn't recognize, not to even imagine her mother (who taught her everything she knows, except those fancy karate moves you spy in a flash). But she, the real Simi, is an accomplished singer, though her flight toward stardom has been mostly under the radar, if you ask me. But don't ask Adenkule -- he who sang Orente, and knows too much.

Among the surprisingly good songs she's previously sung (surprising for someone, like me, just getting to know, OMG, that she even exists) are:
1) I Do [Released in 2011; 41,266 views to-date]
2) Don't Judge Me, sung with Bibanke [2013; 26,908 views]
3) E No Go Funny [2014; 27,732 views]
4) Tiff [2014; 177,209 views]
5) Jamb Question [June 2015; 435,147 views]

Open and Close, Simi's latest video, was published only a few weeks ago, on 17th November. It already has 54,480 views, and counting. It has a charming story-line, if I get it right from all that pidgin. It's an act in more ways that one or two. Thus: a 'Mboch' catches a matatu (don't ask me how both got to Lagos from Nairobi) and off she goes to buy tea for her Ikoyi, her Island -- that's her employer. She, in her Blue Lagoon sort of hair, had to borrow everything she has to wear, from shoulder to toe, in order to execute this errand. She simply won't go in her maid's uniform. The others in the combi join her in this incredible mission.

Soon they chance upon a VIP party -- a bourgeois affair -- over-supplied with fine drinks and assorted bites; and entertained with cool melodies selected by an accomplished piano player. Remember this is Ikoyi. They proceed to do all the disdainful mboch things -- taste this and that; sip this, throw that back into the tray; go here, go there. Only that, this time, it's all in the presence of their masters' types.

But then someone has the misfortune of asking Simi's avatar for a dance. Proletarian hell breaks loose, all of a sudden. All she knows, which the one who asked doesn't (or chooses to forget) is break dance and belly dance and everything else that's unbecoming, in the circumstances. Instead of playing the piano, temporarily vacated by the maestro, one of her own sits heavily on it, shifting her weight this way and that, and making sounds that those in the guest list do not associate with, anymore. The ghetto dance gets hotter and hotter, and there's so much static and electricity that even the dull brighten up. Soon, everyone joins in -- I think they suddenly remember their pasts -- and fun is had by all. And all's well.

Two things really stand out in this song, besides the story-line: Simi's one-of-a-kind voice and the wonderful chorus which accompanies her singing. The intriguing thing is that it isn't quite the voice you hear in any of the five songs I've listed above!

Here's the video, jienjoy:

PS (May 23, 2016): Here's Simi's brief take on 'Open and Close'

MUSIC: Sauti Sol's "Shake Yo Bam Bam" Chic

Look what Sauti Sol and their crew have just gone and 'did'!

Hurry! Click here to watch the video
Shake Yo Bam Bam, their latest, was released less than two weeks ago, On August 19. Its YouTube views stood at 242,262 when I began writing this piece earlier this afternoon and now, as I prepare to click Publish, stand at 243,927 views. This is a very refreshing video. It gives a real boost to East African music, as this region gets set to contribute its fair share of African pop music, now dominated by giant Nigeria, in terms not so much of the quantum of actively engaged artistes, but of the minimum number of singles that should be produced each year by an artiste worthy of the name. I think that this number stands at 3 to 4 singles each year, as suggested by the work ethic one detects among Nigerians.

The visuals in Shake Yo Bam Bam are good. I can identify three aspects of that: (1) Funky garbs -- alright, threads -- with, I think, an optimistic rather than retro feel about the dress code. Nairobi feel. Nay, Old Eastlands feel, if you really want to know. But if retro, then, it so happens, a return, somewhat, to America's "electric slide" genre of the '90s. Not a crime at all.

(2) Hi-definition motion, and colors put together with refined thinking and cool passion.

(3) Well choreographed dance routines; which is a nice departure from the drab, long-running habits we've been used to and taken as a given. A nice turn, too, away from the "ghetto mentality" which confuses raw earth and partially painted walls (see Nerea, etc) with "With It" Ness. SynchroniCITY itself, then. Vivacity. All this is, from another angle, beer-hall chic, but far from what we see in Maleh's more laid-back Chimsoro. Beer-hall chic is big and bigger farther south in South Africa, let's not forget. But none of this is to deter anyone.

The audio? The lyrics are fine. The acoustics are refined. The singers could do with gentle voice training. The voice is a great instrument, whose full range must be employed for max effect. So it must be trained, and tailored to specific contexts. All grit in the delivery must go.

The instruments are fairly well-played, but, it would appear, rather reluctantly -- as an afterthought. I wonder what this oversight is all about.

The video is directed by Nigeria's Clarence Peters, and Awilo Longomba co-wrote the song, according to the video's credits. That's a big, big deal. The song is not a clone of Longomba's known style of singing or dancing, which is a good thing too.  The whole production is a pointer to what the future of Kenya's pop music can be like, with imaginative pooling of creative, directorial and material resources. Nigeria is a great role model in this kind of thing, already.

Pity that Shake Yo Bam Bam ends so, and too, soon, at only 3:24 minutes of play. This denies all of us all of 38 seconds (or so) of fun.

MUSIC: Vector's King Kong Remix

In King Kong Remix, Vector and his cast of heavyweight artistes -- Phyno, Reminisce, Classiq and Uzi  -- deliver an inspired and uplifting piece of music video. In an epic mode.

It displays a montage of great lyrical artistry and an ebb-and-flow of superb visual acts and images. Images of living, made and ghostly things. Of masks and skulls and whatever lurks behind them. Stuff to scare a chile, even. Of totems. All of which are the hallmark of an ingenuity that's at once expansive and explosive and full of charming turns of 'phrase', and surprises. 

Controlled lighting. Atomic nuances. Exploding (uni)verse. Phyno's inimitable voice!

Of dripping, make-believe blood and flowing goo. Falling and perched souls. Motor-mouth rappin'. Frosted faces, and a mystery tongue seeming always ready to devour frosted stuff. 

Of crumbling, gravity-stressed letters. Tailed dancers and cool twerking. Supple Ness, Disintegrating ice sheet.

In all this motion, the colour accent, which works for the creation, is on red and black, against a background canvas that mostly alternates from red to grey-white to darker grey to red all over again, and so on. 

All this stuff we come upon is wrapped in a conquering beat: Ding, Ding, Dong.

It is grand theatre, there!



Click to view the King Kong Remix

Ka DOODLE

Even when, even if, you're not there, 
then, you can still have a voice. 
You can still hold sway. 
Even 4 a moment -- that endures.

No one there was looking --
When I found mine.