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 speedi…
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