Dami Ajayi
Cultural Critic at Freelance
Writer at London Listening Sessions
Lagos nostalgist. Author. Poet. Essayist. Aspiring Juju band boy. Psychiatrist. Musicophile. Subscribe to London Listening Sessions, on Substack.
Articles
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1 week ago |
damiajayi.substack.com | Dami Ajayi
1. A stray tweet has haunted me all week. I do not remember the tweet verbatim, but it was something like…the music of our father stays with us forever. Like most social media maxims, this tweet demands some introspection. Naturally, it called up the music of my father—his JVC deck connected to his Kenwood amplifier routed to the wooden Akai speakers from which his favourite music spewed. We are back to our flat in Ado-Ekiti, which smells of boiling beans and locust beans.
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1 month ago |
damiajayi.substack.com | Dami Ajayi
Late last year, Jazzhole Records, with the support of Studio Monkey Shoulder, released two LPs: Eroya and Asiko Tito. Both records are anthologies of music drawn from diverse African and Afrodiasporic genres, Jazzhole Records’ speciality. The release of both records, particularly Eroya, is timely. Eroya was released by Faaji Agba, a collective of twelve musicians. Most of these musicians were elderly and have passed on, but this does not diminish the importance of their music.
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1 month ago |
damiajayi.substack.com | Dami Ajayi
Naming love songs after girls is the gift that keeps giving. The old timers—highlifers and Juju exponents—knew this. Mention a girl’s name on wax, sing sonorously about her geographical location, croon in the same breath that you have dispatched yourself in her direction—and you are half-way to her heart. Taxi drivers were a regular fixture in highlife love songs in the 1960s, when vehicular transport was a miracle.
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1 month ago |
damiajayi.substack.com | Dami Ajayi
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2 months ago |
damiajayi.substack.com | Dami Ajayi
A working man’s weekend is sacred. Every 9 to 5 man who leans too deeply into the arts learns the restraint and pragmatism of that counsel ringing from childhood: stay in school, stay off drugs. But staying in school and off drugs does not kill the affliction of the incessant earworm. There is a tune in my head every time. Sometimes, this rhythm betrays my most well-meaning intentions in the most inappropriate places. This rhythm assures me I would have been a songwriter in another life.
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“Ariya is the Yoruba word for mirth, to be merry. The mischief is that Sunny Ade also owns a nightclub called Ariya. This double entendre passes the baton to another double entendre announced by guitar riffs. Ade boldly walks into the realms of sexuality. In the eponymous song,
For me no song has touched Arike yet this year. Almost 22 millions on Spotify & counting.
This may be the hardest release this Friday. Yes, one of the greats. Spare acoustic guitar and singing spotlighting his strong vocals. Often disparaged as Nandos music perhaps because the paucity of high street record stores means your chances of hearing this kind of music is a https://t.co/giiYhTsHtO
