By Ayeni Adekunle
I had never attended a Star Quest audition-and I didn’t know what I was missing –until a few years ago when I got an open invitation from Weird MC, who was a judge.
As I entered the hall, accompanied by her assistant, something about the scenario reminded me of my early days; those days myself and Folashade Sarumi trekked the length and breadth of Surulere, combing audition venues amd hoping to land a role in any movie. Any! I remembered my journey as a wannabe actor and musician; and how I never ‘landed’ anything, even as an extra; how everyone except my girlfriend at the time thought my voice was scary and pathetic. In just a few minutes, my mind flashed back to Zeb Ejiro productions, where I must have attended at least a hundred auditions. My mind flashed back to AVI and Even Ezra studios, where I romanced Wilson Brown, Nelson Brown and Foster Zeeno, as I familiarized myself with the modus of making a song. But it was when I remembered my scores of artiste-friends in Okokomaiko (where I grew up, by the way), that tears rolled down my eyes.
As the contestants came out one after the other, sweating, fidgetting and looking like fish out of water, and I saw frustration written on the judges’ faces. The type that clearly showed that they hadn’t seen too many talents on display. True, most of the contestants looked stupid; and I asked over and over again if they didn’t sing to any member of their family before leaving their houses. I imagined a lot of them burying their heads in shame after seeing the preliminaries on TV, but I also knew, from experience, that some of the worst performers at that audition coud go on to become even more successful than all of the judges put together. It can happen, for those who re-invent themselves, those who are extremely lucky, or just by some freak ‘accident.’
I confess I had a lot of laughs at the expense of most of the wannabes. And I couldn’t help but exchange glances with Sound Sultan and Weird MC as each clueless contestant mounted the stage and fumbled with the microphone. But it really was no laughing matter. What happened at that audition was a reflection of the state of the industry. If you listen to the radio, or buy Nigerian CDs in traffic, you’ll see that most of our so-called artistes really have no business in music, if there were strict entry standards. Most ‘singers’ can’t sing on key, and many now need the help of auto-tune and vocoders to make their voice sound nice. Most songs sound like they were written under duress. When the top guys are singers who can’t sing to save their lives, performers who have no idea of how to rock a stage, and musicians who are poor scholars of notes and tones, what do you expect the wannabes to do?
Almost all the demo CDs I get these days are filled with senseless cuts pretending to be songs. And if I dare tell the acts to go back and make more meaningful music, they’ll be quick to give me examples of senior colleagues who are doing exactly what they’ve done, and are already established artistes. Out of nearly 200 contestants screened by the judges that Star Quest Saturday, I doubt if the organisers found up to 10 who possessed the requisite talent.
So where are all the talented ones? Most of them, truth be told, will never make it to the Star Quest auditions. They’ll never be able to enter for Idols or Project Fame or any other major hunt. Why? Because they’re tucked in different ghettoes around the country, battling the harsh realities of life in Nigeria, seeking solace in wine and weed, suffering from protracted inferiority complex and chronic rejection syndrome, and battered by the trauma of overwhelming poverty.
Growing up in the midst of extremely talented men and women in Okokomaiko, I had the priviledge of understanding how the mind of a disadvantaged artiste works. And even at that early age, I knew a lot of them would never end up well if they didn’t leave that environment or get help from genuine talent scouts. And for a while now, I’ve spent considerable time, interacting with young, hopeless talents scattered around ghettoes like Ajegunle, Orile, Dioub, Ajangbadi, Mushin, Igbo-Elerin and many more. The usual expectation is that because ghetto-bred talents like Pasuma and Daddy Showkey ended relatively well, a lot of these chaps stand a great chance of getting their voices heard too.
But, believe me, for every Showkey or Pasuma who is doing relatively well, there are at least a dozen others, consumed by the uncertainties of life on the streets, and stuck in the middle of nowhere. Before D’banj and Psquare and Wizkid and Flavour came on the scene, there was a long list of guys we thought would be ruling the scene now.
Do you remember Mighty Mouse and Remy? How about Fada U turn, Major Dee, Chameleon, Pupa Sonny, Tallman, Daddy Fresh, Sexy Pretty, Mr Freesoul, Cashman Davies, Ghetto Tradishun, Yak’Bel and Angel Zig Zag? Although blessed with genuine talent, these guys had the misfortune of not coming from privileged homes, or not having enough education, and of not belonging to any established music clique. Now, most of them are broke, broken and frustrated. Many have accepted their ‘fate’ and are already earning a living by doing menial jobs, while the unlucky ones have turned to alcohol, marijuana and all sorts of other abuses.
We may continue to decieve ourselves that many of our stars have come from the ghettoes. But if we compare the number of those successful ghetto-bred stars (in football, and entertainment) with that of those wasting away with no help in sight, then we’ll clearly see that more needs to be done by the government, talent scouts, relevant corporate bodies, and the numerous ghetto-alumni scattered around the world, to make sure that parental or societal inflicted poverty doesn’t prevent us from producing a million more Chimamandas, Asas, 9ices, Idibias, Pasumas, and Ali Babas.
We have the capacity. Don’t we?
By the way, I tried to test my vocal skills at the Star Quest audition, but the nasty judges would not let me. Even though they claimed they feared my voice could damage their ear drums and destroy the organisers’ equipments, I sense it was just a conspiracy to prevent me from winning that N7.5 million. Oh, you think that’s what every contestant feels? Maybe you’re right!
5 comments
Lovely write-up
You have written well and I don’t doubt you but the truth is; those who are good probably don’t understand the commercial aspect of making good music-sell-able. I love good music and mostly wouldn’t mind listening over some period till I can grasp the lyrics, couple with nice tunes and on-point delivery. And since, good singers mostly lack the above and perseverance (because many of us give up easily. I’m guilty of this, too…) to keep going on, believing that someday, like R. Kelly, they’ll get to be heard, we may never get to hear them. I worked as a contract staff in Flour Mills Nigeria, Plc and there, I met some good vocalists and a colleague I like to refer to as, ‘Tallest’. Tallest is a natural comedian, whose moves, disposition cracks ribs. What he needs is just a lil’ push but who’ll look his way before he joins his weed-smoking and ‘alomo-drinkers colleagues. Some are just raw talents who promoters wouldn’t spend a quarter of what is being wasted on majority of these A, B, C & D list artists and their up and coming counterparts.
You can begin with your privileged position to help some of these talents get the attention of the NGOs you know and they’ll never thank you less, at least. Nice piece, though. Kudos!
thumbs up … true talk
I feel u.
I’m one of them.please sir help me out.my contact is 07066679297.i really need an opportunity to explore my creativity.GOD BLESS YOU FOR THE WRITE UP.