Chris Ihidero Unedited: What have we done to Darey?

By Chris Ihidero

It’s an overcast Friday afternoon with light showers as I drive on the streets of Lagos. Predictably, traffic is beginning to build up and drivers look determined to get to their destinations before the legendary Lagos traffic ruins the rest of their day. It’s been over a week since we buried my friend and boss, so I’m still in a somewhat somber mood.  The song playing on the radio is jarring and disruptive of my reflective mood, so I change the station and happen upon Darey Art-Alade’s powerful voice belting out ‘No Stars’, one of my favourite songs by him. That’s when it hit me: What have we done to this Darey? More than that, what have we done to singers capable of moving us emotionally, singers who didn’t ask us to dance but just to listen, reflect and allow ourselves be stirred?

I first heard Darey sing live when an organization I belong to organized a tribute event for his late father, the great Art-Alade, at O’Jays Bar and Restaurant in Yaba. On that night, he took on the great Francesca Emmanuel (great soprano) in a vocal context that left the audience spellbound. The next time I paid attention to him was when he participated in the Project Fame talent show. His rendition of Luther Vandross’ ‘Dance with my Father’ remains my favourite version of that song. Darey went on to lend his amazing vocals to many songs that show the endless possibilities of a Nigerian who can do music without latching onto the bandwagon of what we now call ‘Jollof’ music. Before you accuse me of elitist pretensions, please note that I am a great fan and advocate of ‘Jollof’ music: I do not subscribe to the notion that music must make sense, or that it must be enduring. I believe it is perfectly okay for some songs to have a lifetime equal to that of the average mosquito; 2 weeks.  

When I listen to Darey’s music and visualize him in a live performance, I see concert halls, a stage, a grand piano and an attentive audience. I see romantically lit smoky cafés and a tight 6-man band serenading an enamoured clientele.  I see Darey first and foremost as a balladeer, blessed with a great voice and using that voice to exploit his listeners range of emotions, driving them from anger to laughter, from sadness to joy and back to tears. I can afford to dream and see Darey in this light,but present day reality suggests that if music is to pay Darey’s bills and provide him access to a quality life, Darey cannot afford to dream like me.

Nigeria is blessed with amazing vocalists who I suspect would have loved to stick to ballads, soul and R&B but cannot because there isn’t a critical mass that can support that kind music. The brands that sponsor concerts and events are generally not interested in artistes that make songs that cannot get fans to fill a stadium. Look at the trajectory of the careers of artistes like Banky W, Timi Dakolo, Age Beeka, Waje, Ibiyemi, Omawumi, Etcetera (more soft rock though) and this reality hits you hard.  The Banky that was conceived in Mr. Capable has been aborted in transition to a pop star with a dash of R&B. And Banky is one of the most brilliant songwriters you will ever meet. Timi basically sings for government since his albums have refused to sell and concert promoters won’t put him on their bill. Age Beeka has disappeared for about a decade now. Jeremiah Gyang is also missing. You suspect that with that astounding voice, Waje would have loved to be making a different kind of music from what she’s currently doing, even if she’s excelling artistically. We have all been aware of Omawumi’s vocal dexterity for a while, but I wonder if we will ever get to experience the full range of her abilities through songs we don’t have to dance to. Etcetera has been reduced to the reincarnation of the author of the Book of Lamentations: he currently spends his waking hours writing about what everybody else is doing wrong in the industry and perhaps spends his sleeping time dreaming of being a musician again. I can’t remember the last time I heard a new Ibiyemi song, and let me tell you this: Ibiyemi has the most soul-stirring voice in this industry. I should know. She wrote and sang ‘Do you see me’, the soundtrack of my first short film, Big Daddy.  She did it in one take and all of us in the studio that day still talk about the experience. Let’s not talk about Iyanya and Tiwa Savage. Or maybe we should. Iyanya won a SINGING contest but became a star from rolling his waist. Tiwa was doing R&B before relocating to Nigeria, where she has had to employ side boob, a flash of nipples and long legs to assist her voice in making her a pop star. This country swallows its best and spits them out in shapes even theydon’t recognise.

My Darey conundrum is made more frustrating by the fact that when Darey makes songs like ‘Sisi eko’ and ‘Special fever’, songs that I, great fan of his ballads, wish he wasn’t making, he doesn’t do badly. In fact, if other pop artistes were making those songs I would have said ‘great stuff!’ But I am a biased fan, one who isn’t concerned with the realities Darey has to face on a daily basis, the business Vs. artistic decisions that he has to make to ensure that he finds a space to operate in an industry that largely supports only pop music. I really don’t care. I just want a Darey album filled with ballads.

I fear that a generation of brilliant singer-songwriters will be washed away by the tidal waves of the ‘flavour of the moment’ syndrome being currently enjoyed by pop music. I feel sad that musicians like Darey are basically powerless in the face of this reality, except they reject compromise and embrace starvation.