LOCATION-JAY SLEEK’S STUDIO.
DATE-JULY 2011
ARTISTE-WITNESS.

It started with an undecided frown.
He stared into space as he repeatedly altered the metronome timing to ascertain the tempo of the song.
We had a predetermined format in our heads that in our opinion would give the track a kind of upbeat pace but Jay sleek wouldn’t budge.
“Guys be patient, lemme give the song an abstract rhythm to capture an international feel. Don’t worry you will like it.”
He began in earnest, a series of electronic and rhythmic ritual that was both scary and mesmerizing at the same time. He put in one, discarded the other. Tried a second one and altered another.
It was an earnest search for perfection that belonged to a slowly dying breed of producers. It was magical to behold!
The monster slowly took shape growing with every rhythmic addition and taking form with every tonal adjustment. After hours of gruesome musicality the musical maestro and hit maker (jay sleek), finally wheeled around and pronounced with finality.
“I am done.”
Many have wondered at the art of creation and its intrinsic articulation borne of skilled hands but only very few have been privileged to behold genius at work.
It was the beginning of a hit song.

...strange sensations.

LOCATION-GRASSHOPPERS NIGHT CLUB, Festac Town, Lagos.
DATE-14th March 2011, 11:35 p.m.

It was a night made for clubbing. There was a kind of spark in the atmosphere. I swear It wasn’t the booze (I hadn’t had any) and was very clear eyed but…you know that feeling you get when you‘re doing 180kmph on third mainland by 2 a.m. on the Friday preceding your birthday? You do? Ok, then, that was exactly how I felt as we glided into the club (The entourage included Lolo-WAZOBIA fm, Biodun-no particular affiliation and gbenga-my colleague in the musical trade).
My people, I beg to make a very important scientific observation at this junction.
Clubbing is a very very strange sport and is definitely not for the uninitiated or the faint hearted you see. It requires guts and a modicum of hardness that can only be achieved with constant practice or better still in an alcohol filled state (the latter comes faster).
I feigned indifference at the staring faces (we were not regulars you see and must have looked the way don jazzy would look strolling into Sunday school) as we advanced into the maze of twisting sweaty bodies and cigarette fumes with an alcohol combo to complete the vile assembly.
I know what you’re thinking people, trust me I do (am not a mind reader but sometimes I try) and I daresay that you are probably right in your unsubstantiated assumptions (oyinbo). I have never really understood how or why the adult specie (gender unimportant) would drive for miles just to congregate unsolicited in a dark space (referred to hereafter as a club) for what particular purpose? To social-infiltrate or stupor-indoctrinate?
So if I have such strong views on clubbing, what the hell was I doing at grasshoppers that night, you are asking, abi?
Let me explain….
OJ (the genius behind the Yoruba dressing in Tuface’s hit single-‘only me’) had informed Lolo that he was celebrating his birthday at grasshoppers and as a result we had gathered to pay our respects to the rising star.
The night proceeded nicely with a few drinks (the expensive variety), a rubbing of shoulders with celebs like YQ, chuddy K, W4, Ray J and a few others. In totality, it turned out to be an agreeable night afterall because amidst the smoke haze and drunken- influenced attempt at conviviality, everyone had a modicum of fun (even the ones curled up outside in a drunken daze) and as they say (can’t exactly place a finger on who the ‘sayer’ is) , it is not the mistakes that matter but the memories.