MIXED BLESSINGS!

BRT BUS TERMINAL
512 road junction, Festac town, Lagos.
9.11 a.m.
There is this die hard disposition that the average Nigerian possesses and in extension my fellow Festac citizens. The logic of the thing is admirable but in my opinion, it has been over flogged and stretched senseless. Haba! How can you reconcile the suffering and smiling injunction in today’s 21st century setting? Ok, lemme slow down and cease rambling so you guys can properly understand my grievance. You know that the fashola administration has blessed Festac residents with the addition of the BRT bus to our lives and although we have to pay much more than we would if we opt for the regular ‘danfo’, we appreciate the comfort it affords us. That stated and noted let me continue. Notice the recent trend in the BRT experience and tell me if I am hyperventilating irrationally or not. Anytime you get to the bus terminal in Festac, (it is not exactly anything fancy; just thought that I should apply word play) you find a crowd gathered but no bus. If it was an isolated issue, then I can understand and let it slide but fellow citizens (legal and otherwise) it has become a daily occurrence and I make no exaggeration when I use the word daily.
Can you imagine that we have to wait for over 30 minutes before we can as much as get a glimpse of a bus? You can’t, can you? Proper, regular upstanding citizens of our renowned Festac town subjected to such a mean structured approach to modern transportation. Y’all know me now? After being subjected to two days of this shabby treatment, I revoked my vow of comfort and started trading yarns with my former danfo bus conductor buddies.
Hmmmm. I no fit take nonsense from anybody o!
Whom exactly do you report to about stuff like these, eh?
What I have resorted to do is to put together a strongly worded letter to Gov. Fash and convey my heartfelt vex at the ineptitude of the BRT Festac employees, abi? Maybe, just maybe he’ll reply me back and give me an opportunity to tell my children (clears throat and deepens voice) that the Governor of Lagos state was a close friend of mine. (Winks.)
Opportunity comes but once.

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.

"CREATIVE CLUBBING."

LOCATION-GRASSHOPPERS NIGHT CLUB, Festac Town, Lagos.

DATE-14^th 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.

"promotion palava."

LOCATION- WAZOBIA FM, Victoria Island, Lagos.

DATE- 10^th March 2011, 2.15 P.M.

We were a few minutes late so we hurriedly exited the car and walked briskly into the renowned Chocolate Royal. She was already waiting and beckoned us over to where she was sitting. It was a great privilege to finally meet the sensational voice on the radio. A presenter extraordinaire. She didn’t look much like her voice but that was to be expected. We warmed up to her immediately as she drew us in with light jokes and friendly ‘yabs’. We finally came round to the matter at hand and the atmosphere took a solemn turn.

“See, I will not lie to you guys because you are like brothers to me. Radio promotion of your song cannot be bought with money.” She paused dramatically for effect. “Your song has to have that certain appeal.” she finished gesticulating with her hands to properly convey her meaning.

“Eh...How then do we introduce the song to your other radio colleagues?” I asked. “What can we give them that will make sense at least to start up something?”

Just then, her blackberry beeped and she glanced down at it and quickly typed something on it. Without looking up, she queried. “How much do you guys have to start promotion in our station here?”

We glanced at ourselves and tried to deliberate visually.

“How much do you guys have?” she insisted impatiently.

“N50,000.”

“OK, I will help you guys get it to Matse, OBJ and eh..Dwana. That’s the people I can assess. At least I can give them the song and say, ah, this one na my broad O!abeg help me play am.”

“what about Yaw?”someone asked.

“ahh!” She burst out quickly. “Yaw is not among O! Na no fit pay Yaw money O!”

We all smiled and released some tension. Minute’s later money exchanged hands in a brown envelope that also contained the promo copies. We parted smiling, us dreaming about being great stars with the promotion we were about to get. Little did we know that, a week later we would be quarreling over not hearing the song at all on radio and the presenters she promised to give the promo copy to, denying having ever received anything from her.

Little did we know.