My close
observation (not study because I didn't go researching it) of the lyrical
content of the songs of most Nigerian artistes (men especially) reveals that
they lack that depth that is important for a much needed "listening
longetivity" pleasure of their audience. They just 'suffer' the ears
just long enough for the release, which isn't long, of a more competing "lyrical stillborn" like themselves.
Funny though, it is the audience that indirectly inform what these artistes pen down as lyrics. Of course, with an audience that craves for parties and the club house where they can dance the time away while subtly painting a pathway where only curvy, femnistic, lush and creamy-feel women waists thread and parade, you cannot expect your "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You" or "Please, Forgive Me" to sell. (I cannot blame these artistes)
Ranging from life memoirs filled with bad belle people who sought after them in the past (perhaps in the now too), to hard times of selling plantain and of drinking garri without sugar to the always predictable rags to riches happily ever after, end of story. Not to forget those ones that pracically say nothing other than some onomatopeic sounds with lots of drumming for five minutes or more. In between all these stories comes the part where all the Caros make the artistes eyes pop out in wonder and they have only one illness 'isi mgbaka' (madness, to say the least). Now, that's where my concern lies.
Most of my generational songs have artistes sitting on 'long things' and love giving 'banana' goody bags. They come screaming "Ukwu" or go "Walango" at the sight of ukwu (waist). Some cannot hold back the urge to shout "Lobatan" while they walk past an innocent backside. Imagine an outright declartion of what they desire: Your Waist. Hmmmmm! It doesn't matter that they are 'new in town'. And annoyingly, ma ladies feel they ought to 'give it' to them. No! I say, let them be your 'maga' for all you should care because it is only for 'tonight'. Just as Kcee rightly said (though I'm twisting his words), you should "know the koko" and refuse to "Limpopo" even when asked to "Pull Over" and 'show your particulars'. If you are told you are "Sweet Like Tombo", babes, na psyching. Run pass TerryG. Walahi! 'Jump Am Pass".
The music videos, hmmm, interesting. Those don't help the cause for longitivity either because it is one same thing we see in all of them. Guys fully clothed like it's winter at the lowest temperature imaginable and ladies looking so skimpy like the journey through the Sahara Desert will never be over. And what's worst, we (ladies) whine our flabby or body magic powered buttocks right into the camera while the men stare mouth agape in Oooo (awe). Bia! Camera man, osho free don add money. Close your eyes osiso (laughs). Chineke! I tire sef.
Please, 'all ma ladies' and gentlemen in the music industry, let's leave the body language and shaking and appreciating what mama gave us to some other topics, such that will have lovers of music preserving your CDs for an all time fresh relish whenever it booms out of the music box.
On a lighter mood, babes :), they call you the weaker sex but I disagree here. You ought to be very powerful to be such a strong muse that inspires these lyrics. To top it all, the CDs sell like crazy ;). "Don't Tell Me Nonsense"
just long enough for the release, which isn't long, of a more competing "lyrical stillborn" like themselves.
Funny though, it is the audience that indirectly inform what these artistes pen down as lyrics. Of course, with an audience that craves for parties and the club house where they can dance the time away while subtly painting a pathway where only curvy, femnistic, lush and creamy-feel women waists thread and parade, you cannot expect your "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You" or "Please, Forgive Me" to sell. (I cannot blame these artistes)
Ranging from life memoirs filled with bad belle people who sought after them in the past (perhaps in the now too), to hard times of selling plantain and of drinking garri without sugar to the always predictable rags to riches happily ever after, end of story. Not to forget those ones that pracically say nothing other than some onomatopeic sounds with lots of drumming for five minutes or more. In between all these stories comes the part where all the Caros make the artistes eyes pop out in wonder and they have only one illness 'isi mgbaka' (madness, to say the least). Now, that's where my concern lies.
Most of my generational songs have artistes sitting on 'long things' and love giving 'banana' goody bags. They come screaming "Ukwu" or go "Walango" at the sight of ukwu (waist). Some cannot hold back the urge to shout "Lobatan" while they walk past an innocent backside. Imagine an outright declartion of what they desire: Your Waist. Hmmmmm! It doesn't matter that they are 'new in town'. And annoyingly, ma ladies feel they ought to 'give it' to them. No! I say, let them be your 'maga' for all you should care because it is only for 'tonight'. Just as Kcee rightly said (though I'm twisting his words), you should "know the koko" and refuse to "Limpopo" even when asked to "Pull Over" and 'show your particulars'. If you are told you are "Sweet Like Tombo", babes, na psyching. Run pass TerryG. Walahi! 'Jump Am Pass".
The music videos, hmmm, interesting. Those don't help the cause for longitivity either because it is one same thing we see in all of them. Guys fully clothed like it's winter at the lowest temperature imaginable and ladies looking so skimpy like the journey through the Sahara Desert will never be over. And what's worst, we (ladies) whine our flabby or body magic powered buttocks right into the camera while the men stare mouth agape in Oooo (awe). Bia! Camera man, osho free don add money. Close your eyes osiso (laughs). Chineke! I tire sef.
Please, 'all ma ladies' and gentlemen in the music industry, let's leave the body language and shaking and appreciating what mama gave us to some other topics, such that will have lovers of music preserving your CDs for an all time fresh relish whenever it booms out of the music box.
On a lighter mood, babes :), they call you the weaker sex but I disagree here. You ought to be very powerful to be such a strong muse that inspires these lyrics. To top it all, the CDs sell like crazy ;). "Don't Tell Me Nonsense"
Originally titled : Body Language
Lols! Thoroughly enjoyed this piece! Thought I was the only one, have stopped watching some contemporary videos altogether, unclad girls, booty shaking - I'll rather listen to their MP3's - c'mon guys it's become monotonous! Missed those good days of Tu Baba and the Plantashun boys singing and dying for a girl that's not naked! But, It's not about male artist, female artist aswell need to reveal their sensuality least no one buys their cds! Nice one!
ReplyDelete@tomaldo06, glad you liked it.
ReplyDelete@tomaldo06, glad you liked it.
ReplyDelete