DANCING INTTO THE NIGHT
Lagos longed for more at the Lagos Underground Music Show last Sunday which featured two of Nigeria’s finest music exports, Keziah Jones and Nneka inside Jazzhole, Ikoyi, last Sunday.
Igot a whiff of the show last Saturday in a conversation with the Blufunk sensation, Olufemi Sanyaolu otherwise known as Keziah Jones at a documentary movie screening in Ikoyi last Saturday. His characteristic bowler hat, which hardly leaves his head, stood him out of the gathering crowd at National Film Corporation complex. In his company was the petite full-haired singer-songwriter, Nneka Lucia Egbuna. At first, he was reluctant to welcome an interview session. I had long broached the idea with him through an associate of his, Duro Ikujenyo on whose album he recently featured. To be sure, I have had to cancel some appointments to secure some time with him knowing fully well that he often leaves Nigeria for France, UK and other places where he performs. But then, the intending interviewer and the potential interviewee just couldn’t meet. We finally did meet and decided to talk more the next day at the sound check, a routine that precedes the show.
“I pm, Yinka’’, he said and I nodded, thankful that traffic shouldn’t be an issue in a Sunday afternoon in Lagos. As I waltzed confidently into the culture hub along Awolowo Road that would later serve as the venue for the show, I stopped briefly, with all sense of curiosity, at an unusual sight in our time. Gently, a steady hand raised the stylus and let it drop on the spinning black album on the turntable’s slipmat. “Oh my…,” I thought, as the nostalgic thrill ran through my veins. Glancing up to discover who was trying to turn back the hands of time and sound, I found Kunle Tejuosho, the CEO, Jazzhole gazing at me. I was about to introduce myself as his face didn’t suggest any recognition but his voice cut me short.
“You are the one who wrote that fantastic story about Jazzhole…,” he began and I saw that he didn’t need any reminder at all. Standing beside him was the British-Nigerian film maker of international repute, Remi Vaughan-Richards, smiling in anticipation of a proper introduction, or so I thought. But my head was getting swollen at Tejuosho’s unreserved eulogies for me that I forgot my manners. Vaughan-Richards broke the ice and asked if I had seen her latest documentary movie, “Faaji Agba’’. That was how we hit it off. I didn’t just respond in the affirmative, I was proud to tell her that I saw the “director’s cut”, which she brought to Goethe Institut in Lagos where I was receiving a week training on music and culture writing. She assured me that the finished version is better than what I had seen. It is a fact that Vaughan-Richards is married to Jazzhole and had been involved in international tours with Tejuosho and the artists in his care. It was no surprise that she was there, bare-footed, a few hours to the show with her cameras and an assistant. I found the red beep on her camera fascinating and I studied how she wound her way around the set, zooming in on the performers at the show.
All the while, I was anticipating the arrival of Keziah Jones who I learnt had to go and grab something at home. He came in some minutes later, through the back door, which I never knew existed. Funny enough, Ikujenyo, who had been looking forward to my meeting with Jones, was just passing by. After exchanging banters, he walked with me to meet Jones who, in between sorting out wires and fuses, acknowledged that we had an appointment already. Reassured, Ikujenyo left with a promise to come back for the show. I waited and watched. In that little space, a sound ensemble had to be accommodated. A man in blue shorts and black t-shirt was walking around to see that all was set. Even as the generator set was going off, Tejuosho inspected the facility to see if any high-voltage appliance was the cause. Well, the generator wasn’t the only thing that went off, after a while, my sleepy eyes did.
About an hour later, I was roused from sleep by Tejuosho who informed me that the chairs were to be rearranged for the show. Shivering from the cold temperature which was heightened by my hunger for lunch, I walked out obediently in search of some culinary satisfaction.
I returned an hour later and found the African Magic crew preparing for an interview session with Keziah Jones. Numb from my insufficient rest, I watched with the mildness of a child who had been warned not to interrupt when adults are talking. By 5 pm, guests started arriving. Some had previously purchased the tickets while some had to buy theirs on entry. I had to buy time because it was going to be a long night. I didn’t need to read it in the scriptures. I glanced over my notes on Keziah Jones and the questions I drafted, precisely the ones I didn’t want to forget to ask. When Tejuosho came by and asked if I was going to do an interview with Nneka, I reminded him of the reason why I came. Besides, Nneka had been interviewed in THISDAY twice last year and was featured in GLITTERATI and this pull-out. “I think I am more enthusiastic about the interview than Jones is,” I observed but Tejuosho disagreed and promised to make sure another date was fixed. Then a woman kept interrupting the Africa Magic team, saying, “Nneka needs to rest. Please, she will soon go on stage.” Justifiably, I figured that she would be Nneka’s manager to have such concern for her artist.
The venue became parked in few minutes. I decided to choose a seat that would make my exit as fast as possible. I had to choose another seat because the guests who were arriving seemed to prefer my row and it was getting really stuffy. I was getting used to my new seat when someone suddenly pointed a torch directly in my face. I had begun to rehearse what I’d say in annoyance but the voice was familiar and it was a friendly one.
“It’s me, Mode,” she said and I was elated to see Mode Aderinokun, the CEO, Studio of Mode, in Parkview Estate. She is one young lady with so much positive energy. I could really use her company. I wondered aloud why she returned to Nigeria after studying animation in US and she replied, “This is home”. I respect her view on and her love for Nigeria. Then the generating set went off again. I didn’t want to say,
“Mode, you see Nigeria?” She must have read my thoughts because she leaned forward and said, “They said it’s a little problem and it would only take a few minutes.” I tried to hide my disbelief but my nose flared at the thought. I had the same assurance when Jones was doing sound check- it would only take a few minutes. I took in the stage design and the inscription which read: “The Lagos Underground wth Keziah Jones and Nneka”. I took a shot with my camera.
Then 48-year old Keziah came on stage to dazzle the audience that was predominantly made up of expatriates and a handful of young couples. Jones must have shared Mode’s sentiment for Nigeria because he had his music stint in England where he began playing the piano at 13. After leading a bohemian lifestyle against the wish of his father, Keziah was later discovered by composer and ex-keyboard player for Sailor and Culture Club, Phil Pickett who accepted the full-time management of the artist. The worldwide success of Keziah’s first single “Rhythm is Love” is quite historic. His seventh studio album, “Nigerian Wood” spent 43 weeks in a French music chart and peaked at number 4. It also spent four weeks on Bilboard’s European Albums chart. His fourth studio album, Black Orpheus, was in the French chart for 63 weeks, its highest position being 13. His “Rhythm is Love” stayed in the chart for seven weeks. That night, he actually described himself as a warm up guy for Nneka who would perform later.
“That’s what we are saying at the Lagos Underground. We’re trying to counter the emasculation of African Art by corporations. Nigerians need to put something out there beyond the normal,’’ he said as he strummed away on his guitar. His Afro-funk was a delight to the ears and he subsequently tried to raise the morale in the room with his Afro-beat vibes and by dividing the call-and-response across the gender. The men naturally beat the women in this little game.
“Can somebody say ‘Amen’. This is African Unorthodox Church. It’s all good. Jimi Henrix is someone that I like very much. You see, I grew up with brothers who were very much into music and they’ve got a lot of records and I listened to a lot of great music, from American Soul to Rock n’ Roll. We’re going to try Jimi Henrix’s song. In fact, it was somebody’s song that he covered but he just ruggedly changed it to such an extent that it began to be associated with him. It might be a little intense a bit loud but we’re going to try it,” he said, before he began his guitar-slapping technique, warming up the venue.
After a ten minute-break, I was contemplating leaving the venue because I wasn’t prepared to dance into the night. But, I decided to wait for the show even though Nneka’s bit was initially delayed as the sound of her guitar wasn’t projected on the surround system. Far be it from the audience to think that the sound system is gender discriminating. Nneka marched off the stage and stomped the aisle at least four times before the hurdle was crossed. It was my first time of watching Nneka in a live performance. I had seen her several times at trainings, on television, in music reality shows but what I saw last Sunday was extraordinary. I should have known that since 2010 when she was featured on the talk show, Late Night with David Letterman. That same year, she went on tour with Nas and Damian Marley. She ruled the music charts in Germany, France, Switzerland and Austria.
She reeked of consciousness vibes, strong affinity for music, emotional delivery, proper characterisation, good pace, unfailing pitches, dynamic instrumentation, appalling vocal strengths and originality. Even as her vocals was reminiscent of Christie Essien-Igbokwe, her persona on stage was bigger that her actual physical stature. It seemed that what she lacked in fatty flesh, she made up with robust vocals and strong lyrical messages. She preached love, self-determinism, survival and bravery.
The 35-year-old singer paused to inform her audience that there was a smoke between her and the audience and that once it was cleared, she would be able to communicate. Some in the audience turned around trying to decipher the meaning of her spiritual speak, while others murmured about the nature of the smoke. Was it Marijuana or Indian Hemp? The confusion lingered for a while before she clarified her previous speech.
“This session, for some reason, fits into everything that happened after we fixed the date for this gig,” she said. “Someone very close to me; a very dear friend of mine whom I love so much passed away. And so we decided to dedicate this gig to him. It is weird because he is under the ground now. It is easy when it is said that death is part of life. Death has never been that close to me. This time, I understand that man cannot be God. I have always thought that I am powerful standing on the stage but I can’t play God. I have decided to celebrate the departure of Mr. Babatunde Sanusi. Normally, he is at every gig where I play. This is the first time that he won’t be around at my gig.”
After the special song, Nneka performed the song titled, “Mammy Water”, a song based on the sad life of a migrant in search of greener pasture who dies in the process. She appropriated the pidgin language in her piece. Perhaps, the most reverberating song she performed was “Naija Reggae’’, a self-defining song. It’s a nice reggae track on her free-spirit nature which is often construed as “uncultured’’. She made references to her skin colour and her non-conforming lifestyle especially in the area of dressing. Nneka switched from the sweet to the rugged voice to communicate her emotion in the song.
“I be Naija Reggae/ I be Warri Reggae/ Dem born me for Ogboripopo village/ I be Naija Raggae/ I be Warri Raggae/ But you see me as a Lagos City mumu.”
The award-winning singer adopted a folkloric style in delivering the song and the audience watched with interest and admiration as she kept them spell-bound non-stop for two hours.
“He says Nneka, you are so rugged. How come you are fair-skinned? You are not really like a half-caste. So, you think you are special. You’re so not elegant. You are so like a boy. Shave your legs. Talk right, act right. Why don’t you use some little phone(tics),” she sang-talked, making her audience laugh. When she announced that she had two more songs to deliver, the audience begged for one more and they got it and left sated.
As much I enjoyed myself, I couldn’t help but wonder why the woman whom I thought was Nneka’s manager would restrict photography, even from a journalist. She had the gait of a strict headmistress and actually, I found out she was Mrs. Tejuosho. So, I added it all up. For what it was worth, it was a pleasant evening, a great show but by rational estimation, the audience is fast-growing beyond the venue.