I once had a writer
stop me at Afropolitan Vibes, and attack me for writing the way I do.
According to this writer (who I have decided not to name in this
article), I am too simple with my words, and so lack the flair and
artistic finesse required to write about Nigerian music.
He
pointed me to his ‘perfect’ work, showering me with links to some of
his ‘best’ articles. Of course I was curious. It’s not everyday someone
tells you to your face that you are pure shit. That your work is
useless, and the quality of what you produce is for simpletons.
Especially
if that person is not your boss, or has no official standing to offer
that negative and opinionated criticism. I flipped through his written
works, and what I discovered was revealing. He loved his big words. For
an article about a song such as Tekno’s ‘Pana’, there were words such as ‘serendipity’, ‘Mellifluous’, and ‘Staccato’.
At
the end of each article, there was always a furrow in my brow. The
articles read like an exercise into some University degree project,
which required an understanding of the dictionary to read. It didn’t
feel like writing for the fans, it felt like an egocentric display of
word flair. And it put me off. I didn’t enjoy the article, because I
needed a dictionary to grasp the meaning.
This
got me thinking. What is good music writing in Nigeria? How can you
document the art in a way that fans can enjoy and connect, just like
they did with the music?
As a writer,
every day you step up to your computer to write, you are faced with two
options: do you either work towards perfection of your art, or connect
with your readers? Big words are amazing for Universities and Academic
projects because they show that you know the details of your course and
the terms therein.
But should you do that
in pop culture at the expense of readers’ satisfaction, understanding
and enjoyment? Should you be a Messi with words, when people just want
you to pass the ball to them? Who are you writing for? Yourself or your
audience?
When covering the Nigerian
music industry, what exactly is good writing about the Nigerian music
industry? The music we are dissecting and covering was born in the dingy
studios of Lagos, fueled by desperation, hunger, alcohol and weed.
Should
the writing be modelled after the language of the music creators, or
should it take the form of an informed insider with a college degree?
Should it reflect the ceaseless arguments of fans on the streets, or
should we curate from the viewpoints of the musicians?
If Tekno comes through with lyrics such as “If na movie you want watch, na me get shoprite”, or “If na dollar mallam can’t change it”, should we give such simple lyrics an essay-long analysis? Isn’t it stupidity to use big words when talking about Davido’s ‘If’?
“30 Billion for the account oh”
But
yes. A lot of work goes into the music that you listen. There’s so much
sacrifice, blood and effort that results in the final product, but does
not get communicated to the fans. If you go behind the scenes, you will
be inspired by the sheer creativity and determination that exists.
People
live and die for this ‘simple’ music. And if you see beyond just what’s
on radio and music videos, you will be awed by the level of genius that
the industry needs to survive and thrive. It’s not enough to say this
music is ‘sweet or trash’. It deserves more.
That’s
why writing about Nigerian music is important. Writers are meant to
capture the part of the music that the artists can’t talk about, or lack
the tools to communicate. It’s just a matter of choosing how to pass
this message the art. Writers need to talk to their audience, while also
talking at them. You have to find the best spot that makes them respect
you for your knowledge, but understand your every word.
There lies the core conundrum for music writers in Nigeria. It's the ultimate struggle in writing about Nigerian music.
Some
of the best international publications that I consume, FADER, Complex,
DJ Booth, Noisey, and a few others have taught me how to hit that sweet
spot. Reading about the music from their perspective inspires me because
of the way they bring everything to life via simple but impressive
writing. That’s how I love to write about Nigerian music.
That’s
how it should be. Readers need to fall in love with your work and learn
from the information you are providing. They shouldn’t go grabbing
dictionaries when you write.
And this
goes beyond writing music in Nigeria, to the type of music Nigerian
musicians should create. Like the best music journalists, Nigerian
musicians need to create lyrics that can be understood by everyone,
while also packing it with enough melody and emotional connection to
make it stick and be accepted.
That’s the only reason why there’s such a huge market for ‘Tungba’ music in Nigeria. It is simple, and it connects instantly.
Modenine is such a great artist and rapper. But his music will never connect with today’s fans the way Tekno would.
Reading
a narcissistic and professorial journalist’s work might be quite the
knowledgeable experience, but it would never compare with the connection
enjoyed by an informed guy in a corner, with a laptop, who uses the
word ‘high’ instead of ‘lofty’.
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