John Junior's 2015 album dubbed rather ridiculously as "Nyoremo" was released to an unanticipated fanfare and buzz. It was all over the internet. Seemingly everyone in the social media and mainstream media had a kind word for the album, except myself (aparently). But I couldn't blame anyone. It was an album up there with the very best in the local rumba scene. It caught the imagination of local rumba fans like nothing we've seen before. One famous blogger called it an "exquisite composition, a masterclass, a revolutionary piece of art".... and went on to lavish the album in extravagant praise like an obsessed lunatic. But did he miss something?
The 'Nyoremo' album is without doubt a great composition by Kenyan standards. It comprises of five classic, slow rumba songs that are uniquely dance-able and thoroughly entertaining. But there is one striking feature that stands out from the album like a sore thumb - a unique 'congolese touch' that is diffuclt to miss. Take the third song for example entitled "Appreciation". The drums roll, the guitar flicks and a chorus of voices sing in unison like church choir...
'' Mashabiki wa BV eeeh,,
Topesi bino merci,
Mpo na fidelite na bino oh''
I bet not many Kenyans understand even a word in that stanza. I wonder whether John Junior himself understands those words. Even more confounding is why John Junior chose to appreciate his fans in a languages most of them do not understand let alone speak: French and Lingala. John Junior has many languages at his disposal - Luo, Swahili, English and Kikuyu. It is difficult to understand why he thought those were not good enough. Or is there something more sinister at play here? Of course the rise of Lingala usage in Kenya is partly to be blamed..
But it is not just the language. You listen to the first song, the second song and by the time you get to the forth one you begin to wonder just how many people in John Junior's BV Band are actually Kenyans. In the third stanza of "appreciation" one personage sings in Lingala accent and dialect. He is introduced by some thick throaty voice-over as "Papa Kataliko Baluku - Mwana wa Congo na kati ya Kenya." which of course means "Papa Kataliko Baluku, Son of Congo, in Kenya". He is not a Kenyan, what is he doing in John Juniors band that prides itself as the premier Luo Rumba band? Couldn't a Kenyan fill up that slot?
But the idea of incorporating foreign tunes, languages and culture into Kenyan Music is not entirely John Junior's invention. He follows the foot steps of his mentor and teacher Musa Juma who could include three languages in a single verse. Musa Juma must have at some point had at least four Congolese and three Tanzanians in his band. But it was not Musa Juma who invented the idea of incorporating Congolese people in Kenyan bands: It was Ochieng Kabaselleh.
Many Kenyan musicians and artistes alike have borrowed a lot from Congolese music and culture. And that isn't an entirely bad thing. In fact, it is as common place as it is good. Music like, fashion cut across culture, in therein lies its beauty. But, as I was saying, the incorporation of foreign tunes, languages and chereography is nothing new. Ochieng Kabaselleh, Igwe Prezda Bandasson, Daddy Owen, Ken Wa Maria and Man Ingwe have all done this and the list goes on. You will laugh yourself silly listening to Ken wa Maria's song "Lupita nyar Kisumu" in which he 'seduces' Lupita Nyongo with some of the worst pick up lines I've ever heard. Towards the end of the song, the "Fundamentals" hit maker chants in broken lingala like a baby baboon trapped in an ant hole. You laugh at him then you inevitably sympathize with him; he fundamentally doesn't know what he is doing.
And when you thought it couldn't get crazier that that, you encounter Daddy Owen's song 'Tobina'. Tobina is of course a lingala word that means "lets dance". If Ken wa Maria was crazy, Daddy Owen is berserk. Who will forget that crazy mid-song rant he goes on like a monkey choking on a maize cob, where he hardly makes any sense nor entertains but keeps on spurting out words like a donkey on a trance. When I first heard the song I almost sobbed. Even the video choreographer, with his sorry sense of humour, shows us the pale faces of the baffled audience staring at Papa Fololo like hominid from outer space, not sure where to dance or call an ambulance.
Artistes can be forgive for singing in other people's languages but when they begin copying their names and mannerisms then something is definitely amiss. Papa Denis, Papa Fololo, Igwe Bandason, Koffi Makadori, Ony Papa Jey, Ochieng Kabaselleh, Osito Kale, Opiyo Bilongo and Bana Sungusia Band are just some of our local artites who thought that Kenyan names aren't good enough for them. Igwe prezda Bandasson took it off the scale. You'll cry when you see him trying to sing like Simaro Mesiya Lutumba of "Maya" fame. All his tracks sound the same, all his videos are shot in some pulent suburbian estates he couldn't afford to spend a night at, and his clothes look more expensive than his net-worth. He dresses in bright colours and smokes pipes and wears shades (even at night) and speaks Lingala with an alego accent. He doesn't sing; he mourns through the beat like an old woman mourning her dead pet dog. He doen't dance; he staggers and shakes like a man high on beer laced with formalin. He calls himself Kenyan King of rumba but his songs are nothing but slow benga.
Kenyan music is dying. We have embraced foreign music and culture and killed our own. Congolese music is like a cuckoo egg in our nest. It is but a matter of time before it hatches and start pushing our own off the nest. We'll nurture it to a point it becomes bigger than us and swallows us all up. Again, there is nothing really wrong with listening to foreign music or trying to borrow a leaf from from other cultures but the question is 'How far can we go without losing our own musical identity?'
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