42. The Gospel According to Seyi Vibez I

I did not always like Seyi Vibez’s music.

I did not always like Seyi Vibez’s music.

In fact, there was a time when I thought his music was overhyped and underwhelming. This verdict still stands for some of my contemporaries, who have refused to accept the Gospel according to Seyi Vibez.

There is still time to proselytize, but let’s quickly go back to when Seyi Vibez appeared on my radar.

I edited a gushing review by Nigerian poet Adedayo Agarau, a descendant of Yoruba songwriters. Seyi Vibez’s Billion Dollar Baby resonated with Agarau, who was afflicted with nostalgia, that ineffable thing that amplifies the yearning for home. From Iowa, Agarau threw down a poetic consideration of Seyi Vibez’s sonic superpowers—annexing melody and modern argot into a double helix of sonic expression.

I did not buy into his persuasion, already a contagion in Lagos, where a horde of youth sang word for word after Seyi Vibez at his concerts. My other gnawing knob of irritation was the term, Afro-Adura, which I considered a sham marketing ploy speeding down a cul-de-sac.

I continued to listen to the prolific musician. Every new song held my attention for at least one listen. I thought there were gleams and hints of brilliance, which were not carried throughout the song. I did not feel Qdot’s flair for language. I did not experience the raging dysphoria of T.I Blaze or the disarming harmonies of Barry Jhay. There was something Seyi Vibez brought—and cleverly, I palpated it and dismissed it for what it was: vibes. Who’s clever now?

Sound vibrations precede language in a primal, prescient manner. Music often provides us with a mood before we arrive at meaning. Seyi Vibez’s music might have hit me differently because of my perceived overwrought handling of material.

All these would change after I listened to Thy Kingdom Come (which is different from the similarly titled Vibez Till Thy Kingdom Come). Although these two are great records, the latter is pop-facing, while the former is a shimmering thing of beauty.

I love the cover art of Thy Kingdom Come. The stained glass throws beams of light on a crouched Seyi Vibez. The play of light and darkness carries into the songs. The first song, ‘Man of the Year, ’ opens with melancholic strings accentuated with bracketing percussion. Seyi Vibez seems to be calling a truce with an unnamed competitor, but what does it for me is the hook that reminds me of the OST of the 90s Yoruba Nollywood classic, Asiri Nla. The depth of the Yoruba in ‘toju ba ye ju/Koun maa se ye’ gives rhythmic order and rhyme to the emerging couplet, ‘I can be man of the year/You can be the man of the year, too’.  

The most crucial lyrical accomplishment of Afrobeats has been to rhyme Yoruba words perfectly with English. Or vice versa. But Seyi Vibez brings more to the table. A stream-of-consciousness style heaped with slang and expressions that typify the Yoruba proletariat, if anything, is so-called. And this vocabulary is chanted, not sung. Cantillation might be the apt description for how Seyi Vibez approaches his music. Big shoutout to his Koranic school. Seyi Vibez may no longer chant Koranic verses in Arabic but has gifted his facility to true human stories. On ‘Karma’, Seyi Vibez asks after Wasi from Basira ‘to di baddie’ with a bespoke BBL from Italy. Misogyny is not frontal like in Olamide’s ‘Falila Ketan’. In fact, no judgement is passed on Basira’s choices. What we take from that detour is that it is cordial, if not collegial.

The song ‘Hushpuppi’ is not a clear nod to the fashionable felon. In fact, the name Hushpuppi appears once alongside Free Woodberry, an internet scammer colleague who is also doing time in a correctional facility. A novel word, Nahamciaga, stands out, that would be the title of a seven-track EP released. ‘Professor’, another song on Thy Kingdom Come, lends his lyric ‘Loseyi Professor’ to his latest EP, which is my favourite record of the year so far.

It might be a slow year for Afrobeats for those who don’t know where to look. The jury may still be deliberating the verdict on Rema’s experimental, extremely up-tempo sophomore album. Still, my verdict for the slow-tempo dispatch of Lagos proletariat, which is Loseyi Professor, is that it is Seyi Vibez’s masterpiece contemplating his survival guilt.

Hold that thought, guys.