It's been a long time, shouldn't have left you without a dope beat to step to. So here's some dope beats.
I really like this playful one from Kenya by Stella Mwangi. I'm a sucker for anything with house music influence, especially if it comes from anywhere on the continent.
South African house machine Liquideep with "Settle for Less".
I think this girl is Kenyan or Zambian or something, but I honest-to-goodness am not sure (which I actually like). Cool song, and the video is really nice and quirky. Side note: She has a song called Big Nyash. Does that mean what I think it means? In Nigeria, "nyash" often refers to one's ... well.... assets.
Here's one from a favorite, South African rapper AKA. He's one of the best on the continent in my opinion, and this new song is crazy nice. If he keeps this up, I might turn into a stan.
Last but not least - @okayafrica put out a blast today on South African singer Lira's new EP. Stream it in full here.
Showing posts with label Jammin'. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jammin'. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Hey, Mr. VJ.....
I haven't put up a jam session in awhile, so here's some songs from South Africa I love right now.
I've loved a lot of what I've heard coming out of South Africa's house scene, but DJ Oskido and Black Coffee really stand out. This particular Black Coffee song is a bit old, but I'm partial to Zakes Bantwini and I just love the feel of this, so laid-back. I liked Oskido's older song Jezebel, but this one is even better. I've said this before, but I really love how South African music takes its influences from outside hip-hop; Nigeria would do well to learn that. As we can see from Siji's Ijo, we can make some pretty good house-inspired music, too, if we tried.
Also, this rapper Khuli Chana is really cool. I prefer AKA as a rapper -- check out his song Victory Lap if you haven't heard it, because it's awesome -- but this is pretty sick as well.
Enjoy.
I've loved a lot of what I've heard coming out of South Africa's house scene, but DJ Oskido and Black Coffee really stand out. This particular Black Coffee song is a bit old, but I'm partial to Zakes Bantwini and I just love the feel of this, so laid-back. I liked Oskido's older song Jezebel, but this one is even better. I've said this before, but I really love how South African music takes its influences from outside hip-hop; Nigeria would do well to learn that. As we can see from Siji's Ijo, we can make some pretty good house-inspired music, too, if we tried.
Also, this rapper Khuli Chana is really cool. I prefer AKA as a rapper -- check out his song Victory Lap if you haven't heard it, because it's awesome -- but this is pretty sick as well.
Enjoy.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Mainstreaming Hausa
I had a conversation earlier today with a few friends about Hausa representation in Dare Art-Alade's new video for "Ba Ni Kidi."
My friend took issue with Dare's "weird" Hausa (the title is grammatically incorrect, he thinks), but I'm more concerned about the circus, the monkey, the magic... it just felt a bit too Aladdin's Genie for me. It is almost like the singer forgot the song was in Hausa, and decided to go Arabian Nights route instead.
I only mean to make an observation -- and not pick on Dare Art-Alade -- when I say that this video has me thinking about Hausa people and their place in Nigeria's mainstream culture. The only thing even remotely Hausa about me is my name, but it's worth lending a thought to the representation of the Hausa -- or lack thereof -- in Nigerian pop culture. And no, I don't mean somebody saying "Nagode Jesu" in church songs, or Style Plus singing a hook to a song in the language.
In addition to being, according to some observers, the least likely to be educated in Nigeria, Hausas have been left behind in Nigeria's popular culture. The artist Zaaki never did get other Hausas to come to the fore in Nigerian music. I am not aware of any major Hausa actresses in Nigerian films who identifies with being Hausa the way Funke Akindele and Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde do with being Yoruba, or Genevieve Nnaji, Patience Ozorkwor (sorry if I'm butchering it), Stephanie Okereke and Rita Dominic are so obviously Igbo. Hausa films are much younger an industry than Yoruba and Igbo ones, but I wonder about their distribution in Lagos; if they only get around in Kano and Kaduna, it will only strengthen Hausa's isolation from Nigeria's mainstream. I am Yoruba, and the people and culture are so thoroughly a part of pop culture that one cannot but notice Hausas' absence when one compares. Couple this with the power Hausa elites have in Nigeria's polity, you get a lot of room for resentment and misrepresentation aided by silence of the group in the mainstream.
And then there's this video.
What makes the video so repellent to me is the near voicelessness of the people whose language and image is used in this song. I know Dare probably just means to put together a fun, interesting music video, but I know that if someone put together a not-so-flattering/ even slightly mocking video on Yorubas, there'd be more of a reaction across followers of Nigerian music. I wonder what a Hausa person would think seeing this, and how they will feel about their inability to affect the way they are being depicted in the popular culture of their own country.
My friend took issue with Dare's "weird" Hausa (the title is grammatically incorrect, he thinks), but I'm more concerned about the circus, the monkey, the magic... it just felt a bit too Aladdin's Genie for me. It is almost like the singer forgot the song was in Hausa, and decided to go Arabian Nights route instead.
I only mean to make an observation -- and not pick on Dare Art-Alade -- when I say that this video has me thinking about Hausa people and their place in Nigeria's mainstream culture. The only thing even remotely Hausa about me is my name, but it's worth lending a thought to the representation of the Hausa -- or lack thereof -- in Nigerian pop culture. And no, I don't mean somebody saying "Nagode Jesu" in church songs, or Style Plus singing a hook to a song in the language.
In addition to being, according to some observers, the least likely to be educated in Nigeria, Hausas have been left behind in Nigeria's popular culture. The artist Zaaki never did get other Hausas to come to the fore in Nigerian music. I am not aware of any major Hausa actresses in Nigerian films who identifies with being Hausa the way Funke Akindele and Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde do with being Yoruba, or Genevieve Nnaji, Patience Ozorkwor (sorry if I'm butchering it), Stephanie Okereke and Rita Dominic are so obviously Igbo. Hausa films are much younger an industry than Yoruba and Igbo ones, but I wonder about their distribution in Lagos; if they only get around in Kano and Kaduna, it will only strengthen Hausa's isolation from Nigeria's mainstream. I am Yoruba, and the people and culture are so thoroughly a part of pop culture that one cannot but notice Hausas' absence when one compares. Couple this with the power Hausa elites have in Nigeria's polity, you get a lot of room for resentment and misrepresentation aided by silence of the group in the mainstream.
And then there's this video.
What makes the video so repellent to me is the near voicelessness of the people whose language and image is used in this song. I know Dare probably just means to put together a fun, interesting music video, but I know that if someone put together a not-so-flattering/ even slightly mocking video on Yorubas, there'd be more of a reaction across followers of Nigerian music. I wonder what a Hausa person would think seeing this, and how they will feel about their inability to affect the way they are being depicted in the popular culture of their own country.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Back in the Day, When I Was Young, I'm Not a Kid Anymore...
I have entirely too much time on my hands today, so I'm going old school Nigerian music on you guys.
I was going to do old school African music and throw in some Judith Sephuma, Miriam Makeba, etc, but I think I'll keep this narrow. There's some classic cuts here, but lots of awesome songs are being left out. There's no Oyeka, no Daddy Shokey, no Majek Fashek, no Zubi Enebeli. Maybe this post will have a sequel, but I'm not sure there needs to be a definitive list, do you?
Looking at Nigerian music then and Nigerian music now, there's some key differences. For one thing, raggae's influence on Nigerian music has definitely died down considerably. I wonder why that is. For another, there's been a marked change in theme. The preoccupation of such songs as "Obaro" (move forward, or something -- I don't speak the language) and "Ota Dehin Lehin Mi" (Enemy, get behind me), and "Walakolombo" (a promiscuous woman) are very Nigerian, but I'll argue that one sees them a lot less in music now than they do in Nigerian films. Even though it has not completely abandoned its political streak, Nigerian music nowadays is more preoccupied with themes one sees in American music: getting the girl, veiled sexual references, and rappers' braggadocio. Nigerian films, I think, are more derivative of Nigerian society, and therefore much closer to the Nigerian psyche than Nigerian music.
I wonder what will happen once we lose legends like King Sunny Ade, Lagbaja, and Obey. Today, one sees few people taking up high-life or high-life inspired music, all music derived from Nigeria, to be honest. I'd hate to see it die off in favor of this infatuation with all things American.
Enjoy.
I was going to do old school African music and throw in some Judith Sephuma, Miriam Makeba, etc, but I think I'll keep this narrow. There's some classic cuts here, but lots of awesome songs are being left out. There's no Oyeka, no Daddy Shokey, no Majek Fashek, no Zubi Enebeli. Maybe this post will have a sequel, but I'm not sure there needs to be a definitive list, do you?
Looking at Nigerian music then and Nigerian music now, there's some key differences. For one thing, raggae's influence on Nigerian music has definitely died down considerably. I wonder why that is. For another, there's been a marked change in theme. The preoccupation of such songs as "Obaro" (move forward, or something -- I don't speak the language) and "Ota Dehin Lehin Mi" (Enemy, get behind me), and "Walakolombo" (a promiscuous woman) are very Nigerian, but I'll argue that one sees them a lot less in music now than they do in Nigerian films. Even though it has not completely abandoned its political streak, Nigerian music nowadays is more preoccupied with themes one sees in American music: getting the girl, veiled sexual references, and rappers' braggadocio. Nigerian films, I think, are more derivative of Nigerian society, and therefore much closer to the Nigerian psyche than Nigerian music.
I wonder what will happen once we lose legends like King Sunny Ade, Lagbaja, and Obey. Today, one sees few people taking up high-life or high-life inspired music, all music derived from Nigeria, to be honest. I'd hate to see it die off in favor of this infatuation with all things American.
Enjoy.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Hey, Mr. VJ.....
This is going to be a Nigeria-heavy jam session, I'm afraid.
First up is Retta. She's a new kid on the block, and I think I like her sound.
I usually don't like what Banky W comes out with. He's R'n'B, I guess, but that's about it. There's nothing special about him, I don't think, and I can't shake the feeling that if he were not Nigerian, nobody would care a damn about his music. I'll give it to the guy, though, this song is decent.
Leaving Nigeria now to give y'all some South African house. These two seem like quite the superduo.
Finally, this Kenyan gem from P-Unit isn't very new, but I really like it. Does anyone out there speak Swahili? I bet it's just something about a girl, though....
Enjoy.
First up is Retta. She's a new kid on the block, and I think I like her sound.
I usually don't like what Banky W comes out with. He's R'n'B, I guess, but that's about it. There's nothing special about him, I don't think, and I can't shake the feeling that if he were not Nigerian, nobody would care a damn about his music. I'll give it to the guy, though, this song is decent.
Leaving Nigeria now to give y'all some South African house. These two seem like quite the superduo.
Finally, this Kenyan gem from P-Unit isn't very new, but I really like it. Does anyone out there speak Swahili? I bet it's just something about a girl, though....
Enjoy.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Music VJs Save Lives
A few things before the VJ works her magic. MTV Base Africa helped put together this music video to encourage Nigerian youths to vote. Like I've said before, the more African pop culture gets, well, African, the more eyes will be on us.
Other songs you should check out. I'm really feelin' Dj Kent and Maleh, mostly because I'm all about house music and this one is actually pretty solid. It needs a remix with a heavier bass, maybe some dancehall hints mixed in, but still -- solid. On the whole, mad props to South Africa for being omnivorous -- I wish other African countries branched outside of hip-hop. Why is this (seemingly) a Southern African thing? Does anyone know?
Anyway, here you go. You're welcome.
Other songs you should check out. I'm really feelin' Dj Kent and Maleh, mostly because I'm all about house music and this one is actually pretty solid. It needs a remix with a heavier bass, maybe some dancehall hints mixed in, but still -- solid. On the whole, mad props to South Africa for being omnivorous -- I wish other African countries branched outside of hip-hop. Why is this (seemingly) a Southern African thing? Does anyone know?
Anyway, here you go. You're welcome.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
There Goes That VJ....
.. saving my life again. Some new music.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Africa is a Country. No, seriously.....
It simply doesn't do to feed the romantic, ubuntu-loving, sitting-under-a-baobab notions my continent fellows in the diaspora sometimes to have, but it's hard not to wax poetic about Africa's ever-evolving popular culture. I'm from an Anglophone country, so I'm cut off from a lot of the Zouk and Coupe Decale stuff in Cote D'Ivoire and Senegal; I'm circa early '90s on Congolese music; and Angolan hip-hop sometimes bypasses me. Kenya, Ghana, and South Africa are within my orbit, and it's just wonderful being able to see so much of what's cool outside my little cave. Everybody watches – sometimes with equal parts admiration and derision – Nigerian movies. Nigerian singers often go to South Africa to make music videos. Stars from across Africa make songs together.
Music has become the most meritocratic thing in modern Africa. With all this cross-pollination necessary to make such a huge part of popular culture, it can be said that, in terms of popular culture, the continent is looking more and more like a country. What's cool easily becomes nationalized, then maybe regionalized, and, if the song is particularly cool, even loved across the continent, like Tu-Face's “African Queen” or Brenda Fassie's “Vulundlela” all those years ago. And there's the collaborations. Wyre (Kenya) and M.I. (Nigeria) did a song together. So did Dama Do Bling (Mozambique) and Sasha (Nigeria). And Fally Ipupa (Nigeria) and J. Martins (DRC). According to MTV Base, P-Square (Nigeria) and Tear Gas (South Africa) are planning a collaboration as well. Then Nigeria's superstar Tu-Face performs with a South African band during the 2010 MAMA awards (Yes, this list is heavy on Nigeria, but that's really is where some of the most popular artists continent-wide come from). Everyone cheers, and there really is no reason why we should not. If it's good music, you dance to it. If it's a good movie, you watch it. After all, Van Vicker is not less handsome because he's Ghanaian, nor are P-Square's abs any less defined for the fact of their Nigerianness. All are equal before the eyes of young, cable-having, cell-phone-using, internet-surfing Africans across the continent.
If preceeding times were marked with dogged territorialism, the drawing of cultural boundaries in bright-colored chalk that very often led to varying degrees of conflict, we could be so lucky as to see the signs of inching towards a new way of seeing Africa. It has been interesting to see identity with the continent become a changeable entity, a coat one can slip on when Ghana qualifies for the second round of the World Cup, or off, when one hears about something stupid someone's president did. The territorialism is still there, but more interesting is the willingness to erase the chalklines and adopt the larger, more inclusive identity of Africa. We could quibble with this and wonder if this necessarily a good thing, but I think the presence of this duality should be welcomed.
It is, of course, too early to say definitively what kind of change, if any, that the evolution of a larer African youth culture would bring, but the emergence of the culture itself speaks volumes. Even though the music is mostly derivative of hip-hop, it has ushered in one of the few things in which people look towards their own languages and environment for inspiration. The importance of this cannot be overstated in an Africa where, for the longest time, people have been looking abroad for inspiration, education, livelihood. As this popular culture evolves, it will worth noting the new ways in which the dynamic of this evolution changes, the role of major countries like Nigeria, Kenya and South Africa in this popular culture. If their pop culture influence increases, and thus the popularity and visibility of these countries, would it affect the countries at all politically? What would change? What would not? Why?
Having a window into what young people across the continent are into does a lot more good than simply exposing people to some singers or rappers they may not have heard of before. Even more than improving the quality of music produced on the continent, what has become obvious to me is that Western countries aren't the only ones that need a more complete image of Africa; Africans do as well. From my perch in Lagos, there is something about watching Channel O spotlight nightlife in Luanda, watching MTV to see a rap video from Gabon, or checking out the dresses at a red carpet event for an award show in Cape Town that normalizes people in a way that knowing about HIV rates, political upheavals or development indices cannot.
Music has become the most meritocratic thing in modern Africa. With all this cross-pollination necessary to make such a huge part of popular culture, it can be said that, in terms of popular culture, the continent is looking more and more like a country. What's cool easily becomes nationalized, then maybe regionalized, and, if the song is particularly cool, even loved across the continent, like Tu-Face's “African Queen” or Brenda Fassie's “Vulundlela” all those years ago. And there's the collaborations. Wyre (Kenya) and M.I. (Nigeria) did a song together. So did Dama Do Bling (Mozambique) and Sasha (Nigeria). And Fally Ipupa (Nigeria) and J. Martins (DRC). According to MTV Base, P-Square (Nigeria) and Tear Gas (South Africa) are planning a collaboration as well. Then Nigeria's superstar Tu-Face performs with a South African band during the 2010 MAMA awards (Yes, this list is heavy on Nigeria, but that's really is where some of the most popular artists continent-wide come from). Everyone cheers, and there really is no reason why we should not. If it's good music, you dance to it. If it's a good movie, you watch it. After all, Van Vicker is not less handsome because he's Ghanaian, nor are P-Square's abs any less defined for the fact of their Nigerianness. All are equal before the eyes of young, cable-having, cell-phone-using, internet-surfing Africans across the continent.
If preceeding times were marked with dogged territorialism, the drawing of cultural boundaries in bright-colored chalk that very often led to varying degrees of conflict, we could be so lucky as to see the signs of inching towards a new way of seeing Africa. It has been interesting to see identity with the continent become a changeable entity, a coat one can slip on when Ghana qualifies for the second round of the World Cup, or off, when one hears about something stupid someone's president did. The territorialism is still there, but more interesting is the willingness to erase the chalklines and adopt the larger, more inclusive identity of Africa. We could quibble with this and wonder if this necessarily a good thing, but I think the presence of this duality should be welcomed.
It is, of course, too early to say definitively what kind of change, if any, that the evolution of a larer African youth culture would bring, but the emergence of the culture itself speaks volumes. Even though the music is mostly derivative of hip-hop, it has ushered in one of the few things in which people look towards their own languages and environment for inspiration. The importance of this cannot be overstated in an Africa where, for the longest time, people have been looking abroad for inspiration, education, livelihood. As this popular culture evolves, it will worth noting the new ways in which the dynamic of this evolution changes, the role of major countries like Nigeria, Kenya and South Africa in this popular culture. If their pop culture influence increases, and thus the popularity and visibility of these countries, would it affect the countries at all politically? What would change? What would not? Why?
Having a window into what young people across the continent are into does a lot more good than simply exposing people to some singers or rappers they may not have heard of before. Even more than improving the quality of music produced on the continent, what has become obvious to me is that Western countries aren't the only ones that need a more complete image of Africa; Africans do as well. From my perch in Lagos, there is something about watching Channel O spotlight nightlife in Luanda, watching MTV to see a rap video from Gabon, or checking out the dresses at a red carpet event for an award show in Cape Town that normalizes people in a way that knowing about HIV rates, political upheavals or development indices cannot.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Jammin' Just Because...
... it's my blog and I can post what I want to. Some Beninois jazz. And, for good measure, Jimi's awesome set with Stevie Wonder on piano. You're welcome.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Jammin' With Jimi
I'm far too big a fan of Jimi Hendrix not to mark the anniversary of his passing on my blog. One of my favorite blogs Shadow and Act has the scoop on two movies currently in development on the man himself, and I'm psyched.
It's been a slow week of blogging, thanks to my life being constantly in flux. I'll try to get back to this house on a semi-regular basis. Above is one of my favorite songs. Enjoy.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
I love this song!
Spoek Mathambo is a king in my ears right now.
Check out his mix on Fader's podcast right here.
SPOEK MATHAMBO – MSHINI WAM from spoek mathambo on Vimeo.
Check out his mix on Fader's podcast right here.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
For the Ladies - In Rap, as in Life
I've been re-listening to Biggie, especially some of his gems on Ready to Die and came across some of the Junior Mafia tracks that features Lil' Kim. It got me wondering about Lil Wayne and Nicki Minaj. And, for a hot second, Jay-Z and Foxy Brown. All the female proteges were hot rappers on their own, but word is Weezy writes some of Nicki's stuff. Ditto for Biggie and Kim. I'm not sure about Jay and Foxy (was in Nigeria at the time, and I was a kid) but I bet there was talk of that, too.

Seriously, what's up with that??
It's not like these ladies can't rap. Before Nicki put on so much plastic she's now somewhere between Terminator and Barbie, she was actually a sick rapper (OK, still is). I heard her rhyme tight on that "Warning" remix she did back in the day, and if that was any indication, she does NOT need anybody writing for her. Even for Kim, when you hear her stuff after her Biggie, you can see she's a dope rapper. It makes you wonder why the hand-holding was necessary.
Rap is obviously very much a testosterone-filled industry mostly catering to young guys with a need to let their id run wild. My point is that if you're going to have a female rapper, then have a female rapper who's dope, who can slay anyone in front of her in a battle, who has earned her place.
I refuse to believe that overt sexuality among female rappers precludes them from being toe-to-toe with other rappers male AND female(Of course, Eve definitely tones it down more than, say, Kim or Nicki). Someone should ask the more popular female rappers what they think the relationship between them and the male rappers is. And if its not the sexuality holding them back -- and I don't think it is -- them what is it? Why do they feel as though they have to split the playground and separate the players by gender? I remember how annoyed I was by Busta in that "Touch it" remix he said "I'm not even gonna talk to y'all/I'mma let the queens of the game get at y'all" (What, you're too big to talk to haters, so you'll send your minions after them?). It's especially grating when Eve or Trina or whoever else talks smack obviously directed to other female rappers. I know the Busta thing is just one instance - look also at Ludacris' "My Chick Bad" remix with all the female rappers in attendance where he played the magnanimous host to all "his chicks". These women are seen as being no threat.
My suspicion is that if you were good enough to take some prominent rappers down, you'd never make it anywhere near mainstream. By and large, female rappers make it to the top by proving that they're not coming after the Kings of the Game and are only comparing themselves to fellow female rappers. A woman, the minority in this case, has to prove that she's no threat for her to be acceptable to the larger fold. And in that way, being a minority in rap is just like being a minority in every other field in modern life.

Seriously, what's up with that??
It's not like these ladies can't rap. Before Nicki put on so much plastic she's now somewhere between Terminator and Barbie, she was actually a sick rapper (OK, still is). I heard her rhyme tight on that "Warning" remix she did back in the day, and if that was any indication, she does NOT need anybody writing for her. Even for Kim, when you hear her stuff after her Biggie, you can see she's a dope rapper. It makes you wonder why the hand-holding was necessary.
Rap is obviously very much a testosterone-filled industry mostly catering to young guys with a need to let their id run wild. My point is that if you're going to have a female rapper, then have a female rapper who's dope, who can slay anyone in front of her in a battle, who has earned her place.
I refuse to believe that overt sexuality among female rappers precludes them from being toe-to-toe with other rappers male AND female(Of course, Eve definitely tones it down more than, say, Kim or Nicki). Someone should ask the more popular female rappers what they think the relationship between them and the male rappers is. And if its not the sexuality holding them back -- and I don't think it is -- them what is it? Why do they feel as though they have to split the playground and separate the players by gender? I remember how annoyed I was by Busta in that "Touch it" remix he said "I'm not even gonna talk to y'all/I'mma let the queens of the game get at y'all" (What, you're too big to talk to haters, so you'll send your minions after them?). It's especially grating when Eve or Trina or whoever else talks smack obviously directed to other female rappers. I know the Busta thing is just one instance - look also at Ludacris' "My Chick Bad" remix with all the female rappers in attendance where he played the magnanimous host to all "his chicks". These women are seen as being no threat.
My suspicion is that if you were good enough to take some prominent rappers down, you'd never make it anywhere near mainstream. By and large, female rappers make it to the top by proving that they're not coming after the Kings of the Game and are only comparing themselves to fellow female rappers. A woman, the minority in this case, has to prove that she's no threat for her to be acceptable to the larger fold. And in that way, being a minority in rap is just like being a minority in every other field in modern life.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Freshly Ground and Drummer Queens
Via Okayafrica. She's the one you saw hangin' with Shakira on that surprisingly cool, not as cheesy as one would expect "Waka Waka" World Cup song. Check out her band.
Thanks to OkayAfrica, I'm also really into Muthoni the Drummer Queen. I don't speak a lick of Swa, but damn...
Thanks to OkayAfrica, I'm also really into Muthoni the Drummer Queen. I don't speak a lick of Swa, but damn...
Monday, July 12, 2010
Lagos Town!
Afrikan Boy wan' kill us o...
Not bad.
Not bad.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
It's my blog, and I can post what I want to...
Ceu is a queen. That is all.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Nigeria Wahala
So Nigerian Curiosity posted up this vid over at her blog.
I've come to the conclusion that the best thing about living in America, or really much of the Western world, is that you don't have to see the poverty if you don't want to. In Nigeria, there are street kids begging you for money on your way to your private school, old beggars hanging out outside shopping malls and clubs, prostitutes galore on Allen Avenue on your way to the late-night Ikeja market. As a rapper/singer/whatever, I imagine that you don't get to choose whether you want to be more like a Nas or a Jay-Z. You're going to have to acknowledge what's around you in some way. It's a bit like living right next to a garbage heap -- that mess stinks, and you can't help but smell it.
Here's some more socially-conscious Nigerian stuff. Lots of oldies in here from my high school days.
I've come to the conclusion that the best thing about living in America, or really much of the Western world, is that you don't have to see the poverty if you don't want to. In Nigeria, there are street kids begging you for money on your way to your private school, old beggars hanging out outside shopping malls and clubs, prostitutes galore on Allen Avenue on your way to the late-night Ikeja market. As a rapper/singer/whatever, I imagine that you don't get to choose whether you want to be more like a Nas or a Jay-Z. You're going to have to acknowledge what's around you in some way. It's a bit like living right next to a garbage heap -- that mess stinks, and you can't help but smell it.
Here's some more socially-conscious Nigerian stuff. Lots of oldies in here from my high school days.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The noble art of the remix
So my friend PB posted a pic of one of my favorite people Jorge Ben on her blog and it got me thinking.
I've been into bossa nova and Brazilian folk music for about two years, ever since I took a class on Latin American politics and literature (I'm serious -- I think I was Brazilian in my past life) I think what I love about it is its habit of always telling a story. These songs are never entire worlds unto themselves -- they're conversations with people, always professing something, always wanting something. One of the geniuses of earlier Brazilian music is Jorge Ben, and one of my favorites of his is Rosa Menina Rosa. Check out the original, it's amazing.
Now, on a more contemporary note, check out a 2009 remix by one of my favorite singers in any language. Her name is Ceu. She turned this beautiful folk song into an electronic Portishead-in-Portuguese haunt of a track that's all her own, with that warm molasses voice of hers.
This gets to the heart of a point I often make (perhaps not very eloquently) about Nigerian music. The point is not whether or not to use a talking drum for authenticity, or to never use a guitar so as not to be a Western music copycat. The real aim of it is to take what's already there, the music/music styles that you see around you, and elevate it. One of my favorite songs by King Sunny Ade is "Mo ti mo" -- What I wouldn't do to see it remixed and remastered, with a kick in the bass. I would kill to hear Oliver de Coq remixed. Or Haruna Ishola. Or Ebenezer Obey. The real tragedy of the direction of much of contemporary African music is not so much that the songs are different than they were yesterday. It's that they chose to build from scratch an entirely new paradigm that's undoubtedly borrowed from influences not wholly theirs. We already have our music, mature. Why choose to be remake in someone else's image?
I've been into bossa nova and Brazilian folk music for about two years, ever since I took a class on Latin American politics and literature (I'm serious -- I think I was Brazilian in my past life) I think what I love about it is its habit of always telling a story. These songs are never entire worlds unto themselves -- they're conversations with people, always professing something, always wanting something. One of the geniuses of earlier Brazilian music is Jorge Ben, and one of my favorites of his is Rosa Menina Rosa. Check out the original, it's amazing.
Now, on a more contemporary note, check out a 2009 remix by one of my favorite singers in any language. Her name is Ceu. She turned this beautiful folk song into an electronic Portishead-in-Portuguese haunt of a track that's all her own, with that warm molasses voice of hers.
This gets to the heart of a point I often make (perhaps not very eloquently) about Nigerian music. The point is not whether or not to use a talking drum for authenticity, or to never use a guitar so as not to be a Western music copycat. The real aim of it is to take what's already there, the music/music styles that you see around you, and elevate it. One of my favorite songs by King Sunny Ade is "Mo ti mo" -- What I wouldn't do to see it remixed and remastered, with a kick in the bass. I would kill to hear Oliver de Coq remixed. Or Haruna Ishola. Or Ebenezer Obey. The real tragedy of the direction of much of contemporary African music is not so much that the songs are different than they were yesterday. It's that they chose to build from scratch an entirely new paradigm that's undoubtedly borrowed from influences not wholly theirs. We already have our music, mature. Why choose to be remake in someone else's image?
Monday, June 14, 2010
It's my blog, and I can post what I want to...
A jam session I had over at a DJ's house with some old Afu-Ra and Nas got me on some golden oldies hip-hop thing today. Maybe I should have named this post Reasons Why I Don't Listen to the Radio Anymore.
I get a lot of side-eye from folks because I don't funk with a lot of Nigerian singers/rappers. Here's the thing - when you're into real lyricists (None of that Soulja Boy isht) you can't go back to listening to majority of the new stuff out there parading as rap. I don't do affirmative action you're-Nigerian-so-I'll-buy-your-s***-anyway mess. If I think you're wack or otherwise below par, I couldn't be bothered with listening to any nonsense you spew on your record. I'll dance to that mess in the club, but don't get it twisted - I don't discriminate much after a few drinks.
Even then, there's some songs that'll sober me up quick.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
It's my blog, and I can post what I want to...
If you haven't heard any BLK JKS, do
it now. They'll be playing at the World Cup opening concert, so get acquainted. Here's the title track off their newest titled "Zol!"
(Sorry, the embed code doesn't seem to be working).
it now. They'll be playing at the World Cup opening concert, so get acquainted. Here's the title track off their newest titled "Zol!"(Sorry, the embed code doesn't seem to be working).
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Janelle Monae, how I love thee!
You know, I was going to write a I-swear-I'm-not-being-paid-to-do-this post on how awesome Janelle Monae is, but, Via Alyssa Rosenberg, Brentin Mock beat me to it:
Yea, it's official: You'd need to be sent to the Palace of the Dogs if you don't buy this album. Do it. Now.
Monáe has given pop music its first Toni Morrison moment, where fantasy, funk, and the ancestors come together for an experience that evolves one's soul. It's been attempted before: Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation, I think, but that failed because it lacked the courage to carry its struggle to the finish, too often interrupted by gooey songs ("Escapade") that reminded us she's still a mere mortal who believes girls just wanna have fun, just like you. Listening to Monáe, I felt a chromatic charge, like Aunty Entity laughing while pointing a crossbow at my heart in the middle of Thunderdome. Yet I still recognized it as blues and funk—a smothered funk, though perhaps at times too thick, too inaccessible, but not so much I didn't want to shake my ass. It was like the first time I read Beloved, or better Song of Solomon—I didn't quite know what to make of it, but I knew I felt 100 feet taller after reading it.
Yea, it's official: You'd need to be sent to the Palace of the Dogs if you don't buy this album. Do it. Now.
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