In defence of ‘Disposable’ music

By Chris Ihidero

‘Listen kid, take my advice; never hate a song that has sold half a million copies.’ Irving Berlin. Russian-born, U.S. composer and lyricist.

A couple of months ago a good friend of mine got into an exchange with someone on Twitter.  A tweet had gone around talking about ‘good music’ and my friend had engaged the propagators on the subjectivity of such a definition, seeing that appreciating art is a subjective exercise where objectivity is often an illusion. I sat ringside, proverbial popcorn in hand, and smiled as the tweets went back and forth. I find it particularly amusing when people lock art appreciation in comfortable vaults, the keys to which they hold on to as qualified guardians and regulators of human experience. Not able to take the obvious propagation of their personal preferences as representative of what good music should be, I chipped in and asked the propagators to define ‘good music’. Silence followed, and then something in the line of ‘Well, everybody knows what good music is…’ I laughed out loudly as I hummed the chorus of John Legend’s ‘Everybody Knows’: ‘Everybody knows that nobody really knows, so I wish you the best, I guess…’

I first heard the term ‘disposable music’ a couple of years ago while interviewing someone who has become a major player in the Nigerian music scene. He used the term to describe some of his tracks, insinuating that they were largely a product of his hustle and not really a measure of his talents, therefore they were disposable. Usually when you think of all things disposable, sanitary pads, condoms, poor quality tooth brush and tooth paste (the type you get on a plane) and the likes are what comes to mind. To ascribe such insignificance to music, whatever its shortcomings, is truly intriguing.

It is commonplace today to hear opinions about Nigerian music segregate those who are doing ‘real music, and those who are mere pretenders, doing ‘disposable music’.  What is ‘real music’…? Mozart? Beethoven? Handel? The Beetles? Fela? Sunny Ade? Sikiru Ayinde Barrister? 2Face? Asa? Better still, who determines what ‘real music’ is? If a song wins an award, does that automatically mean that it is ‘real music’? If, on the other hand, a song fails to win any award and does not feature on the honours lists of ‘music critics’ yet gathers a strong following amongst audiences; is the song ‘disposable’ or is it ‘real’? Or, may we dare to say, the song is real and the critics disposable? If I earned N1 every time music purists turn their noses in the air and sneer at the likes of P-Square, Timaya and Terry G, I would have that mansion on Banana Island right now, next to whatever Mike Adenuga has recently planted there. Yet, every single time I have seen these much maligned artistes in concert or heard their music played in public spaces, they moved audiences in droves. With all that has been said about the quality of their songs, P-Square are arguably the biggest hip hop duo on the continent. Clearly, there’s a disjoint somewhere: somewhere between the purists’ definition and determination of what ‘real music’ is and what audiences that consume music think.

To be fair, this sort of divide is not the exclusive preserve of Nigerian music or music in general. For almost two decades now, while Nollywood practitioners have continued to push the frontiers of filmmaking, creating a niche for Nigeria, Africa and the African Diaspora within global filmmaking circles, the likes of Dr. Ola Balogun have worked hard at discrediting Nollywood, insisting that what comes out of it are not ‘real films’, more like ‘Mickey Mouse movies’. I remember watching an episode of New Dawn with Funmi where Dr. Balogun showed clips of a Nollywood film and another film from elsewhere in Africa, emphasising, clip after clip, the unworthiness of Nollywood and why its products shouldn’t be called films. Suffice it to say that the last I heard of him, he was leading the Iroko Band, not making films. Nollywood could have benefited from his wealth of experience as one of the few truly trained filmmakers around when Nollywood kicked off; rather he chose to dump down on Nollywood  because it did not meet his own­ standards of how ‘real’ films should be made. Nigerian literature has suffered similar fate. Many a university student has missed out on having great books recommended to them because the books were not ‘literary’ enough.

Let me hazard a guess and say that as you read this you are wondering if a few questions shouldn’t be asked, like: Isn’t this a disguised glorification of mediocrity, a celebration of all that is mundane? Shouldn’t there be an acceptable standard of what ‘real music’ should be? Aren’t we running the risk of being pelted with all sorts of nonsense veiled as music if we do not standardise? Good questions. However, the flip side would then have to be: who qualifies to set these standards and what are the parameters for qualification? Can any human being, or a collection of human beings, truly decide the tastes of everybody? Who said music must make sense? Who says every song must be made to last forever? Isn’t it the prerogative of every listener to decide what kind of music works for him/her and shouldn’t that be enough authentication?

This divide may never be bridged, and that’s fine. What must also never be allowed is the glorification of elitist pretentions by purists; a glorification that seeks to lock creativity into tiny boxes upon which is placed comfortable labels for our collective tastes. Love what you love but leave what you don’t for others who may desire it. May that day not dawn when we will all be subjected to the pains of listening only to ‘real music’ As birds in the sky fly unencumbered by other birds, so should we let music soar without the burden pretentious classifications because, to quote the English physician and writer, Thomas Browne ‘… that vulgar and tavern-musick, which makes one man merry, another sad, strikes in me a deep fit of devotion, and a profound contemplation of the first Composer. There is something in it of divinity more than the ear discovers.’

*Ihidero is a Lagos-based writer, broadcaster and Director.