Today, finding a tangible population of rappers in Nigeria is difficult because the majority those who call themselves and who are called rappers are occasional rather than full-time rappers. If you are using consistency, depth and flow to take attendance at the rap class, the room will end up being almost empty. For listeners that are used to crappy raps, depth is about rhymes, regardless of weak bars. It is now commonplace for rappers to sacrifice message and lyrical depth on the altar of cheap rhymes. But leading American rappers who inspire(d) our own rap culture have proved that a rapper can simultaneously make rhymes and sense without doing any disservice to their artistry.
In an enterprise where success equals suiting the demand of local fans, giving them what they want and how they want done, Nigerian rappers majoring in English rap seem to have been seen as aliens who straddle between two worlds and belonging to none, who neither have any traces of ‘Nigerianness’ nor possess the foreign sophistication that they strive to project with their music. Because their music is allegedly detached from Nigerian reality, Nigerians also detach from their music. To a great extent, the ‘most successful’ rappers are the truly local ones, in terms of style and linguistic medium. Today, those who represent the face of Nigerian Rap and Hip-Hop have carved a niche for themselves among artistes who dwell more on mostly Nigerian pidgin, garnished with indigenous dialects. Consequently, they define what a successful career looks like even though only a few of them have made good stuff. The middle ground, where lyrical brilliance does not exclude domestic considerations is the home of local English rappers like MI Abaga, Vector, Mode 9, Yung6ix and the likes.
Certain members of this elite class have, at some points, had and still have to contend with what they perceive as Nigerians’ disinterest in the sort of music that is serious and somewhat intellectually engaging. It may be partly why some stoop to dilute their lyrics. MI Abaga once cited the weak lines of Anoti (a hit when released) as an instance of how rappers have to ‘dumb down’ their lyrics for the Nigerian audience that is not used to lyrical depth at home. Mode 9 gave a nod to this idea in Pain (off his Pentium IX album) thus: “If I don’t make money, I got myself to blame cuz I didn’t sellout, didn’t make my rhymes lame for the glitz and the glamour and the mainstream fame.” Hence, one-time rappers have made a near-complete switch to Hip-Hop and Afrobeats with once-in-a-while rap-like features. Others who, for some reason, care to retain the rap title slot their recitations inside an abundance of the singing they now do.
On the other side of it, there is a compromise in favour of fame and money. Energising and boisterous beat, sufficient sprinkles of vulgarisms and shallow innuendos about every mundane thing from cheap money to unfettered fun; these seem to appeal best to the present generation of music lovers in Nigeria. The ready-made excuse by the artistes is that rap is not lucrative, which indicates the financial motivation behind their craft. The so-called kings of rap in the country ascended stardom as rappers but today they have resorted to singing traditional songs that are Hip-Hop only because of the beat and a few other things.
But somehow, the fan base of American rappers in Nigeria, like Kendrick Lamar, Eminem, Jay Z, Travis Scott and J. Cole (and even African icons as Nasty C and Sarkodie) intimidates that of local rappers. For instance, the Migos trio were well-received in Lagos in 2016 and J. Cole had a successful concert in April where the mammoth audience impressively sang along to almost all performed songs (even the rapper was surprised they could). For some, these, coupled with massive online following, are enough evidence to negate MI’s and Mode 9’s opinion, enough evidence that there are rap lovers in Nigeria. If truly there are many rap enthusiasts, then it appears they prefer their rap imported as music critic
Oris Aigbokhaevbolo thinks and/or served in a very Nigerian way (if coming from Nigerian rappers). But, do Nigerians loving foreign raps do so for the message or for rich sound quality or for the panache of their rap demigods? At the Castle Light Unlocks concert, how do we reconcile the audience simultaneously whooping to a song about codeine diet and another song that preaches against drug abuse (by J. Cole) all in one night? Is it the case that although they may not be able to unravel the deep meanings in imported raps, they recognise quality when they see it and as far they are concerned, quality is lacking in the Nigerian rap space?
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Only a small population of those who foist the title of rappers upon themselves are genuine lyricists. A smaller population of lyricists are ingenious. To sell rap to an audience that has no patience with narratives, the material has to be melodious, familiar and moderately profound at its worst. Alas, those who have reasonable lyrics and are consistent don’t always rap Nigerian and those who have Nigerian stories to tell don’t rap often. Critics opine that rappers need to be consistent, weave their stories with relatable stuff and ground their verses in Nigeria. Rap is at its best when accessible, word-playful, fluent and still entertaining. Most of what we have around here is more of empty noise, low sense, cacophony and disjointed nursery rhymes. A good number of our rappers don’t have all of talent, technique, credible message, vision and the fire of passion. It is why their confusion outlives them and why they don’t stand the test of time. And who says you have to rap in English or a sophisticated language to be classy? Dagrin is a brilliant answer to that. The clear-headed rapper knew what he wanted from the onset. He stuck to his Yoruba tongue all through, waxed fine lyrics with it and made relevant songs won him loyal fans. Enough of them. Unfortunately, Dagrin’s descendants have failed to learn from him.
Rapping in English doesn’t make a rapper flawless. Many of them in the business today have verses that have no story and more often, it is only their “lyrical dexterity” that makes them enjoyable, as Oris observed. Garnering influence and audience in Nigeria’s rap space would require the artiste to be able to balance lyricism, relatable storytelling, superb delivery and commitment. These qualities are usually not found in a single individual as there are few rappers in the country that do pure rap steadily. Until, there are more and more brave rappers and lyricists who establish their own identities regardless of whatever is in vogue and can blend up the right ingredients into their music in the right proportions, we may have to keep referring the existing ones to Abaga’s advice about fixing up themselves.
In the camp of Nigerian mainstream Hip-Hop, fresh entrants and ex-rappers are teeming in, competition is feverishly high and it looks like this tempo will be sustained for some years to come. Nigerian rappers will have to be brave for English rap hip-hop in Nigeria to thrive. Rappers, in general, will have to stop envying a fair share of fame and wealth like their counterparts in other genres. They would have to be full-time entrepreneurs in the rap business rather than opportunist hitch hikers. Also, there would have to be enough of them getting it right to woo followers of popular music. Only then, would Nigerians start taking them serious. Only then, would there be a truly Nigerian rap industry that has international bragging rights. But just how soon can this happen?