I am in danger. I am not mincing words. I am in danger.
This
precarious situation that I have found myself is self-induced, or so I
have been informed. My aggressors say I brought it on myself. They say I
talk too much. They say I hold corrosive opinions. They say I am too
critical, and the sting of my tongue is reserved for them. They believe
they have to fight back. And the only way to do that is to hurt me.
On
days like this, where I have to document this side of my job, my mind
takes me back to the early days of my music journalism career. I was a
kid, who wanted to influence the world, doing something that brought me
joy and satisfaction. Those were simpler times; when seeing my name on a
good story was enough reward for the work itself. I remember walking
long distances to attend my first industry night in Lagos, one night in
February 2013. My first concert in Lagos had Davido as a headliner, and I
had to literally beg for a ticket to experience that. Those are the
days when a wry smile hugs your face.
Music Journalism Toll
But
pursuing journalism has come with its sacrifices. Being an involuntary
bank of knowledge takes its toll. You’re exposed to people’s business in
ways that muddle your identity. Being a vehicle to amplify the work and
lives of others transforms you into different people on different days.
On some days, you can stop me on a busy street, and I am the depressed
upcoming artist without good career options and a hope that dangles on a
slim string of sanity. A slow-spinning redemption that is never enough.
On other weeks, I might be the happiest CEO of a fledgeling record
label, who is flush with cash and optimism for newly signed talents who
might never get off the ground. It just depends on whose life I am
currently required to be in.
You also discover early that humanity moves along a spectrum, and most of it isn’t sugar, spice and that last drop of whisky hitting your tongue. That last puff of the spliff might hit with precision, and the first taste of whiskey in your throat offers satisfaction. But that can quickly change when you are rushed into the ER with a severe case of alcohol poison. Or your doctor grimly tells you that cancer has catapulted you to your mortality. That’s the full picture of humanity. It can be incredibly good, but almost always get attracted to the darkness.
That
darkness is back with me again. This time, a group of artists have
banded together with one sole mission; to inflict physical harm on me.
When you hang around the music industry for as long as I have, doing the
things I have done, you get to expect a certain level of violence. But
this one is serious.
These
artists are serious about their mission. They feel justified in their
purpose due to some weird notion that I pick on them unfairly. They
believe I am predisposed to hating on every new record they release or
any move they make. And to silence me, they have been patrolling Lagos,
seeking ways to isolate me and attack.
The
truth is, they have had some sub-par releases. Within the past year, a
few of them have dropped 4 projects. They have the best album in the
country, but they also have 3 albums or projects that have been crammed
with insufferable music The most recent project enjoyed sustained
pre-release hype, but it all came crashing down once the actual music
was in the street, and no one could understand the nature of the art.
Terrible music doesn’t need me to call it out. Check the behaviour of
the audience. It simply shows that they didn’t listen.
Nepotism & Phantom Payrolls
I
have also been accused of nepotism and living large off of payrolls. I
am accused of being influenced by money from Davido, Wizkid, Don Jazzy
and whoever I cosign their music. My journalism is driven by lump-sum
payments, they said. And they have begun to spread this within the
industry. Some have tried to hack my phone conversations, listening in
for proof of foul play in my work. My social media accounts are
constantly under threat, as waves of hacking attempts continue.
I
will like to see this proof. One of the reasons why I have been
relatively successful and respected as a journalist is due to my
personal values. When I began to rise through the ranks, and more people
became aware of my influence, many offered me money for my journalism. I
turned them all down. The hardest days are the broke days when someone
would dangle more enough money to sort my needs. I always laugh and say
no. Sometimes, I agree to collect the money, but first, carry out my
work and get the story. After that, I block your number. Or stop picking
your calls.
After
a while, I stopped receiving such offers. I think everyone finally
understood that the way to my heart is not my pocket. Neither is the
path to my pen and job lined with a conveyor belt of money. No one has
ever paid to influence my journalism. And if anyone says they have,
again, I’ll welcome proof.
At
heart, I am a fan of art. I always try to stay true to myself and to
it. Music is the best thing that has ever happened to me. That’s why I
am regarded as controversial. It’s why I have very few friends within
the music industry and a number of angry people looking for my head.
There are artists and their teams that can’t stand the sight of me. An
A&R and distributor of one of them has publicly threatened me
several times. And now, they want to do something about it. They are
trying to get their “pound of flesh.”
Am
I biased? Yes, of course. I have been influenced and socialised by
society from birth. My sense of what is wrong or right came out of the
blocks with my parents serving me classic records from vinyl. As I have
grown, I have inevitably predisposed to certain sounds that have
invariably expanded my music inclinations. I have also been chasing and
studying Nigerian music long enough to know what has a high chance of
working and what is plain or discordant. That’s my bias.
Anyone
who tells you that they don’t possess this bias is feeding you a load
of BS. No one can lay claim to total objectivity. They’re either lying
to you or to themselves. Total objectivity isn’t real. We are all
predisposed to specific sounds.
Joey
never criticizes Rema. Yes. I haven’t found anything that needs an
upgrade in that young man’s art. Yesterday made it a year since that
young monster dropped the Rema EP. Today, he has 3 EPs of
stellar quality, and have made moves that dreams are made of. Can you
find holes in Rema’s plot? I’m sure you can with a high-powered
microscope. But that’s the difference between hating on art and
commenting on it. If it isn’t evident to the naked eye, it isn’t worth
your attention. Maybe one day he’ll put a wrong foot. Maybe I’ll still
be in this space to point it out.
For
the rest of the artists who I have access to them and their teams, I
still offer commentary on their work. But I do that with discretion
because they approach me in private to give them feedback on their
creation. If that is what payroll is, then sign me up to a lifetime of
it.
Payrolls
in this music industry are an endless pit. You join one, you might as
well join all. Once you take a bite from that apple, it’s a downward
spiral towards tainting your work and your credibility. I won’t have had
such a great run at this career if I have been in them. Once again, I
need proof that this has tainted my work. Not providing this is peddling
falsehood.
Impact
I
refuse to live in fear. I have a fiancee. I’m going to get married and
start a family this year. I don’t need this shit hanging around my loved
ones. I don’t need my lady asking me 20 questions about my itinerary
every day, reviewing it for security and asking that I ‘protect myself’.
I don’t enjoy my inability to broadcast on IG live when I am in the
open because I can get tracked and assaulted. I absolutely hate having
to cancel meetings because there might be the possibility of danger. And
my near-daily long-distance runs have me looking over my shoulder and
checking if the next person jogging so close to me might have a more
nefarious mission.
I
have very limited time to spend as a music journalist. I am on my last
legs in this profession, and I do not want to keep looking over my
shoulder for when the other shoe drops. It’s a tiring way to live. I
intend to inform the authorities and file this issue. Doing my job
shouldn’t be an invitation to violence. Being visible and relatively
influential shouldn’t come with danger.
But mine is, and I want it to stop.
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