Mohbad : My Take

By Emmanuel Bello

Serious analysts need to step back and begin to take the Nigerian hip hop music scene, well, more seriously. That scene, at least most of it, is messed up almost like the chaotic political scene. Are we listening to what those kids are saying in their deathly songs? Do we care about their make believe turned reality lifestyles? Or do we just watch them from a distance and nod our heads to their indiscrenable lyrics? Truth be told, all is not well and apart from talking to each other, all those young musicians are also trying to tell us something. Their age mates understand the codes and hellish catch phrases which sound amusing to our ears. But a whole new kind of communication is going on all around us. We are only obviously oblivious.

If we listened carefully, we would start to make sense of all the gibberish output. These are not just danceable beats. They are a distress call and the wailing of sinking souls looking for a way out. The lyrics are honest admissions of the turmoil within, rebuking a world not paying attention. They are the hymn of delusions. The songs begin to change the minstrel over time. His or her followers also become an army of clones created in the image of the lyricist.

Marlians! Where were we, the molders of character, when this particular rave took over? I knew grown up who also called themselves Marlians: a philosophy that promoted obscenity to the max. I observed everything from a distance. I was appalled by the man’s lyrics. I wondered, for the life of me, what young people saw in him. I was bemused by his self importance buoyed by easy money sent to him for his lewd songs. He believed his own hype. He just announced we should be grateful he hasn’t start killing us off.

And we keep building up these kind of people. Yes, we! The other one is a disaster waiting to happen: the zazu crooner. These are not normal people and we might actually be condoning lunacy. The antics amuse us and we hum the indecency in their lines. Gradually, whatever these diabolic singers are saying settle in our subconscious: the glorification of illicit wealth, the enthronement of evil and the sanctification of criminality.

There is need for close supervision and censorship by leaders in homes, places of worship and the political scene. When that other one sang “if u no get money, hide ur face” we all danced to it and applauded. My gate man kept singing that song I noticed. One day, he broke into my room and stole my wallet. I still blame it on that song. The videos to these songs depict a libertine lifestyle devoid of hardwork but plenty fine cars and women. An alternate reality is created: one in which you can make money from nothing, drive in choice cars and meet all sort of ladies. So in trying to match this with the starkly unfiltered, unedited reality of life, young people resort to crime to fill the gap. The musicians themselves begin to live out their hype and start plotting to kill off one another in the unforgiving slippery path to stardom. This is the bigger picture the ongoing Mohbad scenario presents.

NB: This piece is written in my capacity as a concerned Nigerian and not the views from my current office

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