What happened between Milli and Chocolate City Music?

If you let MI tell it, Chocolate City is God’s gift to Nigerian music and as CEO, he’s just the latest bearer of said gift.

If you let the media tell it, Idi Amin’s younger brother is now running an antiquated label in Lagos and everybody is running for dear life before he runs it down.

The public’s perception of MI’s leadership of C.City Music has been mostly shaped by his former protege Milli. However, on his debut EP titled Don’t Ask Me What Happened, the rapper seems ready to move on from the matter. Young Nasir doesn’t want to make a name for himself solely from biting the hand that used to feed him, what the rapper now wants to do is show that he’s strong enough to find food – on his own.

As early as the first song on the EP, “We Up”, Milli tries to stress that point, as he boasts about becoming his own boss since getting his release from the label.

I don’t bite no fingers /

I know how to use a spoon /

However, independence isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, the artist reflects on his new responsibilities on the sombre cuts “The Hood” and “Made for This”, worrying that he might not be able to cope with the new demands alone. The EP went from assured and boastful to unsure and vulnerable in roughly 30 minutes, and from trunk-rattling, trap sounds to reflective R&B records in 7 songs. Milli doesn’t call his music “trap and B” but he should consider it, and he should also consider giving me a commission when he does.

But this is where it gets complicated. Driven by codeine-fueled raps, heavy synths, 808 drums and a strong national identity, and visualized by vintage beamers, colorful three-quarter shorts and Head Honcho vests, trap music has become a real thing in South Africa where Milli’s partner-in-rhyme PatricKXXLee lives. But neither trap as a sub-genre nor SA hip-hop music nor SA hip-hop culture have been able to get a foothold in mainstream Nigeria. Ironically it is Milli’s former label mate Ice Prince that has come closest to bridging the divide but he hasn’t persisted.

So from a business standpoint, promoting the druggy “Wave” or the celebration of all nighttime vices that is “Animals After Dark” to a niche crowd is a prospect that probably didn’t excite MI and company. Mentioning Surulere 100 times doesn’t make a material difference either, the diction and sensibilities of the music couldn’t be farther away from Milli’s neighborhood. The remix to “Unlooking”, a souvenir from his time at CCM, is the most Lagos-sounding record on here. Milli doesn’t want his music to be geo-fenced anymore though, he wants to compete in the same space as trap rappers such as Emtee and Nasty C going forward. But remember the age-old argument that you cannot do US rap better than US rappers? Remove the “u”, leave the “s” but put an “a” after it. How does that look?

What DAMWH lacks in local context and cultural depth however, it makes up for in superior quality and sound. The EP shows Milli’s musicality – it’s okay to be able to rap, but he doesn’t allow spitting bars get in the way of making a good song. He’s a rapper that can hold a note and perhaps more importantly, without the support of a prominent label, hold his own.

Young Milli couldn’t have made a more convincing argument  for trap music in Nigeria to go mainstream than his noiselessly rebellious debut EP.

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