She must have been screaming at the top of her voice, but to my ears it was a whisper. When I eventually heard my name, I turned back and the joy that shot up within me was given an outlet with a wide, beaming smile. Her arms were wide open and expecting, and I knelt so I could properly wrap my arms around her for the warmest hug I’d received in months.
Celebratory greetings for the new year were flying around, but in that moment, the surrounding noise hushed as I hugged my niece. Unadulterated joy tingled through my whole body in those seconds, and as though neither of us wanted it to end, she asked me to carry her. I acquiesced, and she didn’t allow anyone take her from me until she slept off in my arms.
It couldn’t have been a more contrasting start to that of 2017, a year that began on the most pensive of notes for me. The usual smiles were displayed during and after the vigil mass, only masking the amount of uncertainties that was swirling around in my mind. With every conversation that spiraled out of the barrage of “Happy New Year” compliments from friends, the urge to duck out and/or become invisible only got stronger.
In acting like I was all good on a night of quotidian reunion, I held up a brave face, spinning on the inside but all I could do was hide the conflict. The feeling of helplessness was the cherry on top of my misery sundae, and the conflict within me only continued to swell. Everyone shared their achievements and even though mine weren’t inconsequential in retrospect, I felt like I was dealing with a torn sail and shattered floorboards while everyone else was cruising smoothly on their voyage.
Not everyone’s life is perfect – even friends whom I thought were doing perfectly fine only to find out otherwise later – but the problem with being self engrossed and feeling like you’re on flailing ground is that you can’t see past yourself. Awareness is heightened, and the need not to wallow – even though you want to – pushes you to trudge forward anyhow, a situation succinctly put on wax by Creo Pitaa on the Charlie X produced “Spinning.”
I sometimes find it hard to reconcile the fact that Creo is about 17yrs old and bench pressing the type of emotional weight that can crush people twice his age. But in using his precocious rapping ability as an outlet for his angst on “Spinning,” he’s offered himself, myself and a couple of others a means of communal therapy, an AA meeting of sorts – one I attended countless times upon the song’s release late last year.
There’s an immeasurable sigh of relief when an artist puts feelings you can relate with into words, they imprint themselves indelibly unto every facet of your being. A long list of “SoundCloud artists” like Creo continually gave me that feeling last year through their music, accompanying the highs and reveling with me in the lows.
Before I forget, the spiritual texture of the Nathaniel Bassey pioneered #HallelujahChallenge significantly helped in centering my nervy compass during the early days of 2017. And although Gospel music continued being influential throughout the year, it ended up being in minimal rotation for the rest of the year (Oops, my bad) while secular music basically served as the soundtrack for the road, with SoundCloud eventually playing a significant role.
Internationally, catharsis became the new cool, with artists like Jay-Z and Tyler, The Creator releasing unexpectedly personal, reveal all music. The Nigerian music mainstream obviously didn’t get the memo, mostly sticking to its trusty churn and burn formula of making hits, which I’m not mad at because there are parties to turn up at. But when the curtains were drawn and the order of the moment was solitude, I was most likely on SoundCloud catching a vibe to suit to the mood.
Whether they were spilling their proverbial guts on a track or being superficial, being in the age range of these artists who are also championing a sonic rebellion was probably the reason I resonated a lot with the music.
An EP that stuck with me early in the year and remained in constant spin was Lady Donli’s Wallflower, a pensive neo soul masterpiece released at the dying days of 2016. The Odunsi-assisted “Lie To Me” became my favorite from first listen, because; (1) the interpolation of “that’s just how I feel,” a lyrical line from Kendrick Lamar’s “Poetic Justice” fits in conceptually and contextually and (2) it’s a jam.
One line on “Lie To Me” sung by Lady Donli always stuck out to me though; “even my mama said she was ashamed of me,” words dipped in the stench of parental disappointment. Although I knew I had been forgiven by my parents for dropping a major ball at the backend of 2016, the glances I drew from that situation has continued to stay with me, probably that’s why I eventually adopted a ‘just don’t fuck it up’ approach to 2017. Listening to Donli sing those words (which I’m pretty sure was harrowing for her to lay down) on a regular served as a mantra reminder, and it helped me to not fuck it up majorly.
If there is an aural version of a sweet tooth, Lady Donli’s “Ice Cream” would have been a major cause for me. Released as her first single of the year, “Ice Cream” totally contrasts the dour nature of Wallflower. I must’ve played the song tens of times until I realized it was describing the relationship I was in at the time – getting back with an ex that ended in the most De Ja Vu-ish way possible.
After wobbly going through the post-relationship motions real quick without actually dealing with the break-up, I returned to the plan, I wasn’t going to let a little fuck up clog my wheel. Except that the wheel got clogged from pent up resentment of allowing myself to be emotionally defrauded in a similar pattern by the same person.
During this short period, I wasn’t eager to have conversations with female friends, I even projected the self-irritation that had been effected from a past relationship on some of them. Thinking about it now makes me cringe at myself, and thankfully, Davina Oriakhi’s debut album Love To A Mortal was crucial in fixing me up.
Serendipitously crafted and sequenced as a spiritual journey towards learning to love yourself, LTAM was a huge guiding light out of the mess I was in, easing into it as a part of my morning routine for a while – one that worked tremendously. Apart from being a dazzling body of work to listen to, Davina’s breakdown of LTAM via mail helped me understand the nuances applied in creating the album, which made writing about it therapeutic. It is one of the easiest pieces I’ve put together, a situation that seems to occur whenever the music hits a couple of personal nerves.
I wrote a review in just under 2hours for AYLØ’S Insert Project Name, another album that grasped at the depths of my soul through my ears. The soundscape of IPN is beautiful and lush (“Gardens” is a five star bed of cushion soul), but there’s enough turmoil on the album to rival that of Chelsea’s current transfer window. IPN became a constant fixture on my playlist such that if I had a physical copy, it would’ve scratched without the help of a DJ.
After sharing my review of ISN (one of my favorite articles yet), there was the added satisfaction that a couple of those who read also listened to the project with positive feedback. If the feedback was lukewarm, it definitely won’t have changed my experience with the album, but the writer part of me was elated. It was an ephemeral high from writing about an album that is permanently stitched to my memory bank.
For me, writing started in late 2016 as a means to share my opinions about music, an art form I had come to have an immense appreciation for. But with each article (and unreleased poem) I’ve written so far, I’ve come to understand and love the fact that art appreciation is subjective, because each article I’ve penned is a piece of me and ultimately just my opinion (learnt this from revisiting numerous Lucas G. articles, if you know you know.) Knowing that human bias is perfunctory to writing about and reviewing music is one of the best things I embraced in 2017, a learning curve that I hope will continue its arch in 2018.
Currently, writing is mostly a passion project, and though I’ve considered going to the newsrooms of many online platform in a bid to make a living off my passion, taking a leap of faith over the little career leaps I’ve accrued in recent months is too risky to my continuing ‘just don’t fuck it up’ plan.
I hope there’s enough fuel (ahem, Buhari how far?) in the tank to help me continue to writing, because there’s more opinions to share and debate, more artists to discover and share with the world, more emotionally aware music and experiences to write about and more metaphors/references to throw around. If not, I’ll know that wielding the pen was an integral healing component at an interesting point of my life.
Besides, if I fuck it up, how do I get money to get a really cool present for my niece’s 3rd birthday? I won’t be dethroned as the favorite uncle yet.