Pidgin Won’t Die (& You Need to Get Over It)

I have already spelled out my thoughts on Pidgin. Predictably, I have taken flack for those thoughts, so the first time I heard that the BBC is launching a service in Pidgin, I had a really good laugh. Like many, I still have memories of all the warnings from my Ghanaian teachers that Pidgin ruins one’s English. To hear that the British Broadcasting Corporation (of all the world’s English-exporting corporations) is launching a service in Pidgin…

Okay: I’m still laughing.

How do I feel about it though? Part of me thinks it is a great idea. It allows information about our world to reach more people, and for more people to potentially participate in sharing their information and experiences with the rest of the world. It also celebrates a language that has thanklessly served and entertained us for centuries. What’s not to like?

However, another part of me hates the idea that people will see it as some kind of validation of Pidgin. The thought that the language Fela once used to force people to think about their colonial mentality can somehow be validated by the very people he was railing against is galling. My inner cynic sees it less as a validation than a cashing-in, but the truth is that there is a beauty to it.

My teachers were not entirely wrong: research does suggest a link between Pidgin and problems with proficiency in mainstream English. Nevertheless, I do not think the solution to those problems is a ban.

The idea to ban Pidgin is incredibly unimaginative. For one, it simply doesn’t work: ask successive generations (upon generations upon generations upon generations) of educators –  from the colonial period to date – how successful they have been in banning Pidgin. Any success stories you find represent battles won in a war lost:

Pidgin prevails.

Students may not speak it when their teachers are nearby, but as soon as they are around other Pidgin speakers (as they inevitably will be, whether in school or outside), you had better believe that their Pidgin will flow like palm wine at a tapper’s convention. The audacity to think that you can halt pidgin in its tracks when centuries of educators have failed to do so is the kind of audacity we need to keep moving our societies forward, and I commend that. However, there is a word in English for doing so in the same failed way as all your predecessors.

A clue: it isn’t ‘audacious’.

The point of English in a country like Ghana should be to unite us across our vast ethnic diversity. But if more Ghanaians speak (and get the chance to shape) Pidgin than they do English, then maybe English is not pulling its weight. And that is not exclusively Pidgin’s fault.

In my personal opinion, Pidgin is blamed for many problems that far predate it. Anyone I know who was given a strong foundation in English before they were exposed to Pidgin is able to shift between English and Pidgin without any problems. This was certainly my own experience. It reminds me of research that shows how babies are able to learn more than one language at the same time. As such, rather than banning pidgin, it makes sense to make sure more people get stronger foundations in English much earlier in life. The fact that so few of my students raise their hands when I ask them who loves reading is a testament to things that we will need to dissect if we are ever going to improve English proficiency in this country, whether we speak pidgin or not.

Sadly, improving early education isn’t possible for everyone. But that’s another thing: we also need to start thinking about why English (or any other European language) is the main language of African white collar employment. There are countless tweets and videos laughing at Ghanaians who do not speak fluent English, but – while there may be some links between language and intelligence – there is no link between the English language in particular and intelligence. Our society would be a better one if we all remembered that. English is great for those who leave our shores, but less so for the vast majority of people who do not. Until it is, maybe English – and its champions – need to sit down and be a bit more humble. Let’s not kid ourselves: the ‘either (English) or (pidgin)’ argument is a losing one and has been for a very long time. Pidgin is not going to die.

And neither should it have to.

Multiply

A Holy Man was once chased far from town by a crowd of a few thousand people, each of whom wanted something different from him:

Health. Purpose. Freedom. Signs. Wonders.

Touched by the weight of their need, he walked among them and healed as many as possible for as long as he could. But that only satisfied a part of the crowd. His apprentices grew concerned: the sun was setting, their location was remote, and, unless they left immediately, all the food sellers would be closed before anyone made it back home.

The Holy Man heard them out, balancing patience with impatience. Had they not heard this story before? He asked if they had any food they could share out, but all they had found was a small stash of bread and fish donated by a little boy:

Five loaves and two little fishes.

Though his apprentices were an often-bumbling bunch, he could tell they were being sincere. But he knew how unlikely it was that – in a crowd of thousands – the only person with any food was one boy. He knew what he had to do, but wished he didn’t: he wished they would all just believe. But people have a need for spectacle.

They need to be fed.

So, he had his apprentices each find a basket. Then he had them calm the crowd down, seating everyone in groups of fifty. And once they were the only ones left standing, he said a prayer of thanks; asking God to bless what the little boy had so selflessly shared. Then he broke each loaf and put a little food in each basket, asking his apprentices to make sure everyone received some. They stared at him, but he smiled and, having learned to trust that smile, they went.

And that’s when the miracle happened:

The baskets went around, those who lacked took and, inspired by the example of a selfless little boy, those who didn’t lack gave. And there was so much that each of the apprentices brought back a full basket. They marvelled, and the people – having each received what they needed – left.

And the Holy Man shook his head and smiled at how these events would end up being told.

Death’s Digital Etiquette

I originally wrote this a few years ago after the passing of Komla Dumor. The topic it covers seems especially poignant today; not just on account of Major Mahama’s funeral, but because of the departure of yet another witty, intelligent, glorious young patriot who I won’t name for reasons explained in the piece.

Mourn the living today, because the ancestors’ gain is our genuine loss.

If there is one thing that Ghanaians do better than anyone else, it is death. Not dying; anyone can do that. Death, however, is very much ours. Our Nigerian cousins can keep their banquet-like super weddings:

We have Death.

Entire weekends can be spent hopping from funeral to funeral. Cross-country, for those who can afford the time and money. We have bank loans that target the bereaved because that’s how much money we spend sending off the dead. And that’s what it’s all about really: honouring those joining the ancestors. Our funerals involve heavy mourning followed by heavy celebration. We place that much bearing on ancestry. The past. Where we’re from. The white man may have changed our attitudes towards many of our traditions, but they couldn’t touch death.

Death is ours.

You see it in coffins carved to the point of high art along the Ga coastline; or in the absence of obituaries in newspapers, because the space is taken up by funeral announcements. Why focus on one person’s passing when you can take money to advertise ten? We advertise death on mega-sized billboards across the city; not just to show off, but because – although specific details are often kept private – death is an experience shared. Everyone must know so that everyone can get involved.

How then do we do death when sharing is increasingly such a digital experience?

Nothing brings this question into sharper focus than the events online following the recent passing of the broadcaster, Komla Dumor.

As I type, the ancestors are yet to receive Komla, but they have surely heard word that he is on his way to them. I am sure that they are as shocked to receive one so young and so brilliant as we are to have lost him.

Word of his sudden passing started making the rounds early on Saturday the 18th of January. When death happens, Ghanaians call family wherever in the world they are. In an Africa where the mobile phone has become a fixture across space, age, class, and such, text messages, Facebook updates and emails started flying around. One or two websites posted the story. The rapper, Sarkodie, tweeted that he was waiting for confirmation from the BBC. There was something comical here: waiting for confirmation of the passing of a local son from the mouthpiece of the old colonial master. To be fair however, this was a special case: Komla actually worked for said mouthpiece, doing his part to change the popular African narrative of negativity into a multifaceted one telling the story of all the Africas: rich, poor, young, old, north, south, black, white and everything in between.

As the leaked news was eventually confirmed, people scrambled for explanation. Komla was a public figure, savvy (and Ghanaian) enough to have a Facebook page, as well as a presence on the likes of Instagram. While some dug up and shared pictures they were lucky enough to have taken with Komla, others ploughed through Komla’s online photographs. Very soon, someone had posted a picture of one of Komla’s children with the caption, ‘Is this child too without a father?

Somewhere, a line had been crossed.

It would perhaps be crossed again when a Whatsapp conversation between Komla and a close friend leaked out and went viral. The message was recent, ending with Komla thanking God as he walked out of a meeting in which he had landed the job as the BBC’s point man for Brazil 2013. However, it also divulged arguably private details about the state of his health, and pointed fingers at an unnamed few who had caused him considerable stress at work.

Courtesy of an active few, Ghana has a heavy presence across social media. Ghanaians are engaging with the internet – in one way or another – in increasing numbers, from posting pictures on Facebook to holding simple conversations on Whatsapp. We download indiscriminately: not just movies, music and TV shows, but – importantly – images. Few businesses in Ghana use original photography to advertize their wares. Ludacris seems to have had his hair cut at every barbershop in the city. Rihanna, Beyonce and Denzel will each be surprised to find how many little boutiques they have modelled for across Accra. If any law exists here banning the use of anything other than original images in their advertising, it has been broken a million times over. In such a space, what is Death’s digital etiquette?

We share. We share. We share.

But do we feel?

I read a recent piece I can no longer find about a hierarchy of grief; about the right of the bereaved to not hear of (or be assaulted by) their loss from strangers.

I agree.

 

#YouGonLearnToday

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This is for the many people who have told me over the years that they wish they could attend one of my classes… but haven’t been able to make it up the road to Ashesi.

The always-awesome Nubuke Foundation have given me the chance to present a public lecture this evening as part of their ‘Ghana Must Go’ series. I plan on using the opportunity to connect a lot of dots together including:

  • The importance of meme culture
  • The significance of Shatta Wale and his entire movement
  • White Jesus
  • Oprah
  • Fake News
  • The merits of Pidgin English
  • Your parents’ addiction to Whatsapp
  • Heritage Africa
  • And all manner of seemingly random stuff…

… all in the name of getting education out of the classroom and out into the streets.

It’s at 7pm, it’s free and it will be followed by a DJ set by Eff the DJ.

And you’re very invited.

Before & After

 

Images by Sena-8402

Today marks exactly two years since I first kissed the woman I would subsequently share my life with.

Born of a cocktail of chance, heart and insanity at Kotoka International Airport, that kiss was when our companionship began. Sure: we celebrated a year of being married a few weeks back. But (though beautiful as it was important) our wedding was merely social validation for something we already held true. I know I still owe everyone an explanation (incoming) for what made me ‘change my mind’ about marriage. For those who can’t wait, let me sum it up in a word:

Shari.

I learned the meaning of divorce at the age of 7. A year or two later, I told my grandmother that I would marry as soon as I turned 18. My mother had just moved my brother and I from London to Cape Coast and I had already heard about people having problems abstaining from something called ‘sex before marriage’ (or as we kids called it, ‘Oh James!‘ because that’s what Bond Girls always exclaim before the screen faded to black). Early marriage seemed the obvious solution to my purity-culture-indoctrinated mind. I remember how hard Grandma laughed, but I did not care: I was going to marry as soon as I could. Years later, I – of course – discovered that there are other variables to the damn thing.

Many variables.

So many variables.

Today, I remember all the people who dismissed me as not serious (or worse). People who thought I was waiting for perfection. All the advice (“don’t be so scared of divorce” and “expand your horizons: you’re expecting too much from just one woman” still stand out). I remember trying (to the point of tears) to make relationships work. The agony of defeat when they didn’t. With regret, I remember hearts broken. And I remember eventually locking my heart in a box so it would stop hurting people. People including myself.

All these things exist in a nebulous time in my life that I will henceforth refer to as ‘Before Meeting Her’.

‘After Meeting Her’ on the other hand has been a period marked by a daily kind of joy. Two years is too short a time within which to celebrate a relationship. I’ve always looked with immense skepticism at young couples publicly celebrating their love (with beautifully orchestrated and posed-for pictures) on social media. My awe is reserved for grandparents who still laugh with each other after years of love and struggle, the way my step-grandparents did (before Grandpa left Mamaa – and all of us – a few years back). Years from now, I hope Shari and I still get in the car to go to events, only to turn around because we would much rather just spend time laughing in each other’s company. I hope that we are still as comfortable with each other as we are now, sharing everything from finances and duties around the house. And Love. I hope we remain awash in it.

Two years into this thing we have, I am thankful.

Possibly the warmest person I have ever met, Shari is a force; one who daily shifts my life’s motion towards light. She is better than me at so many things. She reads and plans and hoards and curates. She has a better ear for music than I do, and this weird ability to absorb a song after one listen, forcing us to be VERY CAREFUL about what we listen to, lest a maddeningly annoying song gets stuck in her head for days on end. She is a professional I have much to learn from, only just beginning to understand the extent of her potential: the kind of person who receives compliments graciously but has yet to believe them.

This is the woman I’m lucky enough to love.

Images by Sena-8396

(Photos courtesy of Sena Kpodo)

 

What I’m Feeling: Part Two – Mapping Accra’s New Cultural Scene (August 2016)

As I explained last week, there is a lot more local content than just music that I’ve been feeling recently. So – as promised – here is my non-musical accompaniment to last week’s list. Again: those in the know will already know most of these, but – in the immortal words of Fela Kuti – “who no know go know”.

Cornfields in Accra

13419066_282892668718036_1329141475390550252_nIf you have not gone to see Cornfields in Accra – the annual end-of-year exhibition of the KNUST’s Painting and Sculpture Department – happening now until the end of August (ignore the flyer date: it’s been extended) at the Museum of Science & Technology (opposite the Tigo HQ) – you’re really, really, really missing out. And next time, don’t miss the launch: it’s always busy, but the artists are on hand.

The AccraWeDey Podcast(s)

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More than just listening to the podcast(s), I have watched the entire AccraWeDey movement for the past year or two, and – alongside Signatures and Swaye Kidd’s CulArtBlog (and each in different ways) – I really think they are the successors to what we were trying to do with DUST magazine back in the day: curating Accra in a manner that speaks as much to conscience and community as it does to style.

Others often focus solely on things that are shiny and largely inaccessible (think of all those write-ups you see in international newspapers talking about how Accra is the new cool, for example). They fail to capture Accra’s spirit and all the things that bring us together across all the other things that could divide us. Accra We Dey rise above all that to find depth, and I cannot help but be proud of their hustle.

Signatures Magazine

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At the launch of Issue Zero, Signatures’ co-founder – Jason Nicco-Annan – jokingly introduced himself as (being better known as) Julian (DJ Juls)’s little brother. I hope that mess is over now. Sure: Juls was in the mix, but every single page of Signatures jumps with the same attention to detail and eye for beauty, trends and movements that Jason possessed way before he was Associate Editor back at DUST. 

Issue Zero was a good test run. Having heard a few rumours, I’m very much looking forward to Issue One.

CulArtBlog

Ending the post-DUST troika is Swaye Kidd’s CulArtBlog. There is more than one Accra, and Mr. Kidd seems the man most in touch with the one that I inhabit. I am pretty sure CulArtBlog has covered every single artist I featured on last week’s list. And more. If you are looking for what’s going on in underground Accra, CulArtBlog is a pretty good place to start…

AccraDotAlt / The Chalewote Street Art Festival

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… and AccraDotAlt is a good place to end. About a decade ago, there were a number of us who each set out to shape an alternative Accra to the mainstream before us. DUST was a part of that. SoulNMotion was a part of that. PY Addo’s Bless the Mic was a part of that. The Kweku Ananse Show on Vibe FM was a part of that. There were many more, but of all us, the last entity standing – if not stomping – is very much AccraDotAlt and we have all thrown our collective weight behind Mantse Aryeequaye and Dr. Sionne Neely’s brainchild and all its cultural fruit: Sabolai Radio, the Talk Party Series, and of course, the big one… like winter in Game of Thrones, Chalewote is coming. Peep the AccraDotAlt Radio blog too: the artist updates ahead of this year’s event are pretty dope.

YoyoTinz

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The recent Sarkodie & m.anifest beef was the best representation of the evolution of Ghanaian hip-hop/hiplife/GH rap (or whatever you choose to call it) into a genre that has begun placing as much emphasis on lyricism as it does on its ability to move your body. It was no surprise when YoyoTinz hosted a talk on the topic: they are the outfit who have done the most to champion the genre – past, present and beyond mere promotion – into something that is dissected, documented and discussed.

The Studio

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Another creative collective who have my attention and respect is the one including photographer, Francis Kokoroko; illustrator/graphic designer Sena Ahadji; stylist Mawuli FudogloDJ Steelo; producer Yaw P, and more. Besides being better dressed than you, they have been curating some of the finest artists and talks of 2016 in the Osu-based studio around which they loosely operate.

The Nubuke Foundation + ANO Ghana

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One of my favourite art spots, Nubuke is all about recording, preserving and promoting Ghanaian art, and they have been supportive of younger artists and groups, including the Accra Theatre WorkshopEhalakasa (Alliance Francaise Accra gets a shoutout for doing the same). The last time I was there, I saw the latter half of one of the best ever performances I’ve seen by the force, talent and majesty that is Poetra Asantewaa.

That event was organized by Nana Oforiatta Ayim who – in addition to her cultural research work with ANO Ghana – has been doing a magnificent job of making Gallery 1957 more than just a commercial art space, but a home for excellent programming around the younger, fresher faces of Ghanaian contemporary art.

Nuku Studio + The Beyond Collective

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More than just taking pictures, photography is art too and there is probably no collective in Accra that is more of a testament to this than Nuku, whose workshops are as much about photography as they are about philosophy. Nuku’s Nii Obodai and Seton Nicholas also play roles in Beyond: a collective who have very much been in the business of setting new standards for art out here. I cannot wait for Beyond 3.

Bright Ackwerh + the Kuenyehia Prize for Contemporary Ghanaian Art

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Attending the unveiling of this year’s Kuenyehia Prize with Mrs. A-G a few months back, we wanted Bright Ackwerh to win but we didn’t think he would. His art turns many industry conventions  on their head. Besides being digital in creation, understanding Ackwerh’s work often requires an understanding of Ghanaian popular culture and whatever topics are trending on local radio/Twitter. His works are thus far more accessible to the ordinary than they are to the elite or to any (career) appreciators of fine art. Not unlike the FOKN Bois, Bright’s work makes you laugh as much as it makes you think.

I let out a shout when Bright was announced the winner. And I really have to commend the Kuenyehia Prize (and its founder, Elikem Nutifafa Kuenyehia) not only for having the vision to award Ackwerh, but also for existing in the first place; for finding a way to support contemporary art. Not for personal profit but at personal expense and for the sake of community.

It’s a beautiful thing.

Tea Baa + Cafe Kwae + The… Spot Just Off Spintex I Won’t Name

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The three food & drink joints I’m in love with at the minute, particularly on holidays. I have spent almost everyday of my summer break writing (and randomly bumping into awesome people) at Kwae. While Republic will always, always hold a special place in my heart, Dedo Azu’s Tea Baa has become the place I’m most likely to DJ at (heck, I’ll be even there next Friday 19th). Oh, and while you’re there, make sure to pop in to The Shop by Eyetsa next door: purveyors of very dope ish.

Dedo and I share similar tastes in music. More importantly, there’s no dancefloor at Tea Baa: great for DJs like me who play sounds from off the beaten track and who don’t want dancers complaining because we’re not playing enough Lil’ This/That or whatever the hell else is popping on Billboard.

(Update: visited Zen Garden in Labone last night, and I have a feeling they too will be chopping my money soon).

… and as for the Restaurant-I-Refuse-to-Name, I’m deeply torn about letting people know about it lest people flock there and it ceases to be the hidden gem that it is.

So here we are.

The Thing My Crew & I Will Launch Next Week

Hints above and below, but – as of the time I’m typing this – it’s not next week yet.

So you’ll just have to wait.

 

 

What I’m Feeling: the August 2016 Comeback Edition (Part One)

It’s been awhile since I did one of these.

Regardless, here it is: my monthly occasional once-in-awhile rundown of music that I’m feeling right now. Today’s edition is all local (to avoid clashing with something I’m a part of on another platform that will reveal itself in a week or so. I’ll update this post with a link when it drops). A couple of these are a little dated but – like I said – it’s been a long time. Besides, dopeness is timeless.

Warning: it’s pretty packed. Up next, I’ll do a non-music one. We’ll see if I can keep it up. Here goes.

Kuvie

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A couple of months back, I wrote my thoughts on how I thought Kuvie had low-key invented a new genre/subgenre of music or something. I would later see him do a live music set as part of DJ Keyzzz’ BeatPhreaks Live gig at Alliance Francaise, and it exceeded my already high expectations. I would definitely pay money to go see Kuvie headline. He hasn’t let up since then, especially on the named ‘Grind’: Vision DJ’s collaboration with Ayisi Ican (AI). One of my favorite tunes of the moment by my favourite producer of the moment under the auspices of one of my favourite DJs.

RedRed – How Far

The most important/topical/urgent song on this list. Awhile back, RedRed – the outfit consisting of M3nsa (who is still cedi-for-cedi the most complete Ghanaian artist in existence and needs to bless us all with another solo album ) and ELO – dropped a video with a live performance of what sounded like a sparse, next-level electronic rework of the Ghanaian national anthem. It got a lot of my people excited. After it finally premiered on Ms. Naa’s Ryse & Shyne – suitably on independence day – Malaka wrote a whole blog post about it. There was awhile there when I thought the lyrics would date because the President ‘solved’ dumsor bi saa.

False alarm.

VI Music

The admiration I have for Adomaa extends to her entire crew, really. VI Music is fast becoming less of a label than it is an entire creative movement encompassing Adomaa herself, and the collective dopeness that is Akotowaa, Robin Huws, Reynolds the Gentleman, Tronomie and more. More than just their music, I like the whole ‘squad’-ness of their operation and how they really are not about fitting into modern Ghanaian musical templates; even with each other. Their sounds are actually diverse as heck. No artist here sounds like the other. And even their artwork drips with attention to detail.

The Gentleman could be Ghana’s Wizkid. He sure has the energy (as anyone who was at the Afraba concert can testify). Unlike Wizkid however, he is also a producer, which might be why he sings about more than just how he wants to part with his money on account of someone’s ass/body/waist/dancing/whatever (And the occasional song about poverty. Don’t get me wrong: I love Wizkid. But daaamn… he always sings about the same things). I don’t know how my people will respond to that, but it works for me.

Robin Huwes is all about love, stripped-down acoustics and a genuine vulnerability rarely heard around these parts:

My (adopted baby cousin) Akotowaa beautifully blurs the lines between spoken word, rap, singing and the good old fashioned art of actual songwriting on IWITP. And I love it:

Adomaa’s brother (& my former student) Tronomie just dropped his debut track, ‘Breaking Bars’. I’m hearing Kwabs and Gallant influences (at a time when few musicians out here have probably even heard of those two): not a bad thing at all.

VI gives me hope.

DJ Juls feat. Mr Eazi x Eugy x Sarkodie – Teef Teef

It’s beautiful to see a good thing come together. Juls has been crafting this African-sample-heavy sound for years without getting the due he deserves. For awhile, I thought he’d left it behind to explore other (equally dope) sounds with his homeboy Mr. Eazi (their creative collaboration is to Ghanaian music what Martin Scorcese’s partnerships with DeNiro and DiCaprio have been to Hollywood). But then he comes back with this. Beats 1’s Julie Adenuga named it the sound of the summer and she’s right. If this is not on your playlist, you’re failing.

Cina Soul – Julor

I was late listening to Cina Soul’s brilliant single, only doing so after the homie Paa Koti schooled me to it and my mind’s twin, Debbie Frempong insisted to me that it features what may be the most flawless vocals she’d ever heard from Ghana. And then I learned that it was produced by Elidot’s former student, Odunsi and that it also features different-sounding raps by the man M Dot. Cina (who really is the sweetest human being in person) just dropped her EP, and while  I don’t think it quite matches the brilliance of this track, it’s clear that her potential is crazy. Watch this one.

IFKR ft. Odunsi – Omo Gbono

I should be mad at Ashesi’s finest two DJs – K3V and Franklin – for keeping from me the fact that their Major Lazer-loving asses are also creating original ‘afro-EDM’ tunes. But by the time that synth-y sound drops after the chorus, all is forgiven really. Fun track. I’m curious to hear what else they are cooking up.

Odunsi ft. Okuntakinte – Happy Hour

Odunsi is the future. There: I said it. I remember thinking this when EDWVN drew my attention to his tracks Nasty Horns and Nikki. Crisp production. Diversity. Imagination. The man whose influence is felt on the last two tracks I mentioned has also released an EP and my favourite cut by far is this one, featuring his (unapologetically controversial) Ashesi  classmate, Okuntakinte, who is on good form here.

Villy & the Xtreme Volumes – WMM (Wia My Money)

Villy has been owning Accra’s live music scene for a few years now. He reminds me of two of my old friends from London – Lyric L & Ty: artists whose live performances are so on point that they make fans of people who have never heard their music before. Villy’s EP Humanimals shows musical growth and this is showcased perfectly on this angry, Miles-Davis-sampling, African blues track, WMM.

African leaders: come take your subs… and bring us our money while you’re at it.

Worlasi

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Yoyo Tinz have been evangelizing about Worlasi for a minute and it’s easy to see why. Charisma, a unique style, lyrical depth and locally-relevant content that all Ghanaians can relate to all make Worlasi a contender. He shines on features, as he does here with m.anifest:

And – just like King Kendrick – he’s dropped an EP of unreleased tracks:

Honorary Mention

YG & Nipsey Hussle – FDT

Hardly local, but I must admit that it does capture a few of my sentiments on a topic of potential international significance. The part two featuring Macklemore and G-Eazy is on regular rotation in the Ankomah-Graham household.

Speaking of part twos, stay tuned for Part Two. Next week. Maybe.