A great Nigerian artist named Yemi Alade once said: “All the biggest pop songs that are American or British, they are very simple lyrics. Very basic. So that dumb people like you can know.”
I am not dumb. I am smart, very smart, and although Einstein was long dead before I was alive, I feel like I would have given him a run for his money. But how can I, with all of my intelligence and vastness of thought and wisdom, stoop low so as to enjoy Nigerian music?
I wake up this morning at exactly 5:02am. It’s pretty chilled at the Pulse Nigeria office where I sleep on weekdays. I turn on my Apple Music app on my iPhone, plug in my earphones and Kiss Daniel ’s “New Era” album comes on. I switch my outfit, hit the road for an hour’s run and hear the young Nigerian artist sing ‘gegetigege ti gegeti gegetigegege” on a record named ‘Gobe’ . It’s basic stuff but it feels good to me.
I am caught in the most basic of lyrics, which does not fit in with all of the education that I have had in life. I can feel Kiss Daniel’s world, roll in his passion, jog to his heart, and dance to his melody. I am his best friend. And in that moment we are seeing life from the same telescope.
Nigerian pop music is a window into a different world. Every time you make a conscious decision to consume the art, you are given a new State of mind. I have done this countlessly every 5am, and I like to think that whether it is Kiss Daniel, or 2face Idibia , or Runtown . These artists have shaped my views of life.
The only problem is that the way they see the world isn’t the way I have been brought up to see it.
Even though I can listen to Tekno’s ‘Pana’ for a long time, I will never fully understand the reality of his existence because I have never really pictured a world where I can use words like “Say na love I dey see for your eyes.”
For me, I would approach my lover with,
“Good morning beautiful, I could feel the love shining straight from your charming eyes.” That’s how. All I simply need to do is press the ‘STOP’ button on my music player, and I am taken far from Tekno’s world and back into mine. Mine is more intelligent, theirs is rudimentary and crude.
I was born in Port Harcourt, which was very far removed from Lagos, the seat of Nigerian pop music. But from a very young age, I was always fed Nigerian music. My father introduced me to
Cardinal Jim Rex Lawson , Fela Kuti and
Sunny Okosun . He didn’t like Sunny Ade much, but Onyeka Onwenu and Swedish pop group ABBA were always in the background, providing a soundtrack to a household that was warm and loving. The music was more intelligent then, and as I read my books and solved mathematical problems, the sweet voice of ABBA can be heard singing “You are the Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen…”
I remember very well the first Nigerian album I ever owned. It wasn’t until many years later, when Psquare’s “Game Over” captured my heart that I began to listen to them. I had saved up my little monetary gifts from uncles and relatives to buy the project in Port Harcourt, from a guy who hawked them in the neighborhood.
I jammed ‘No one like u’, ‘Game Over’, ‘Do me’ and others, with all the happiness of a kid who had stumbled upon a great toy. The songs lacked significance. They were just pleasing to dance to and sing along. Every day, in my little room, I would steal my elder brothers CD Walkman, buy new batteries and play the album until the morning. It was orgasmic.
By the time I got to the final song on the project, there was no point of return. I was already in love with the Okoye Twins, and wished in my heart to be like them. ABBA and Westlife had lost their grasp on my heart. What was left in there was ‘Am I still that special man,’ mixed in with countless American records.
Looking back at those years of straining my throat to sing ‘ Senorita’ , and stressing my prepubescent body to break dance, it still makes me laugh and wonder how we could be so immersed in celebrity fandom, that we lose ourselves to it. I didn’t see anyone who didn’t like Psquare.
Yes. Psquare were gods. And if you check clearly, and you will discover that they have never left their throne. There’s just a lot more demigods now.
But I was in a school that drilled my body, soul and spirit. I was made to gorge on Western intelligence, and chase more ‘noble’ pursuits. I was raised in both character and learning, to the point where pidgin English, which was the main medium for communication in Nigerian music became taboo and crude. How could I understand Nigerian music when I couldn’t connect with their language and their reality?
This isn’t to say that to connect with
2face Idibia or Faze, you need to have avoided college, or dropped out of it like they did. Or suffered the intense poverty that Skales and Ice Prince experienced that led them towards music. But for a music journalist, you have to be deeper than the music to fully grasp why the soul of the Nigerian artist, and why it beats the way it does. You need to hit a level deeper than break-dancing and personal karaoke.
I went through college. Bagged a Bachelor’s degree in the Medical Sciences, by pursuing complex biological mechanisms and processes. That shit was deep. It required one to hit a level of understanding and academic excellence than normal to thrive in it. And I did. By the end of college, I was no more the kid who liked Psquare. Rock Music and Hip-hop were my haven. I had joined the group who adored
Evanescence over 2face Idibia, and idolized Eminem while ignoring eLDee . I was that snobbish nose kid that was removed from Nigerian entertainment.
We could stand a bit of Banky W because he was ‘ tush’ , but African China and all of his struggle in the ghetto was beyond us. We were too intelligent for that. A lot of you reading this article were like me.
And if you really want to truly understand Nigerian music, like I have been working hard at doing since I moved to Lagos at the start of 2013, then you have to go through what I went through. I understood and acknowledged that the life I have lived, and that of my favorite Nigerian artist are different. My influences and theirs are different. Even down to the basic elements of language and street philosophy.
Understanding and enjoying Nigerian pop music requires that you understand the music’s origins and place in the life of the common man. The songs you hear today are removed from Fela and his militant creativity. But those foundations are important for you to understand. Our art was created for the masses, and at every point in time it reflected the desires of the society.
This is Nigerian music. Nigerian art. Nigerian culture.
As someone who writes and thinks and throws myself deep into the music culture, it is important that I hold on to these truths as the foundation of my knowledge. Defining who I am and should be as an intelligent educated Nigerian discussing grassroots and poverty-driven art has been about learning at every point, and understanding that although much of the music was not created for my kind, I am still able to appreciate it because I am Nigerian first, before I am intelligent.
I am a Nigerian who is smart. A Nigerian who thinks. But most importantly, I am a Nigerian, through and through, and my art is for me. If you are like me, you have to hold these basic truth dear to your heart. As you listen to Tekno, you are consuming what was created for you, because you are a Nigerian. Take some pride in that first, before your education kicks in. If it ever will.
I love Nigerian music. I live, sleep, breathe and make a living from it. Even though I still have certain limitations in connecting with it, I’m still able to go deep into my playlist, with the determination that I can hit a new level of enjoyment and happiness by just listening to it. And also I can learn from it too.
I called my girlfriend ‘ Obianuju’ once, and she replied me with “don’t call me that unless you have “30 billion for the account oh.”
But I shouldn’t be too hopeful. I will always be intelligent, and the music that I consume will never be created for me. It will be dumbed down just like Yemi Alade said, for the masses who have less education than I do, and far outnumber me.
This is Nigerian music, and I will always be more intelligent than its popular version. Understanding and working my way through that requires that I will be happy, uncomfortable, confused and disgusted by it. But I will not drop it. Instead, I will hopefully push through it all, and embrace it for the simple fact that it is mine. Art created for my country.
This means that I will never stop consuming it. I will keep contributing to the culture, intelligently. I’m still going to close my eyes and get lost in Wizkid, Wande Coal and Runtown. I simply will have to keep running every morning with my earphones plugged in, and doing the work that I am paid to do for the culture.
And it just makes me love Nigerian pop music more, and appreciate all the creators of the art.
