Styl-Plus “Expressions” (A review of sorts)

Beating the temptation to buy the bootleg over the original version of this album (on display side by side at my local bootlegger’s), I hurry back home 4 beers poorer than I left, wondering WTF I had done! My mission had been simple: find out if the Ghostface “Fishscale” bootleg was available (it wasn’t). The worst case scenario had been to spend 3.33 beers (yes I do think in beers-get used to it) on one of those 5 in1 bollywood DVDs for my ever-growing (against my own will) Indian film collection. But here I was in a bus heading back home with the digitally-enhanced mugs of Shifi, Tunde and Zeal (in order of song writing credits- ratio 8.83: 1.83: 0.33-Yes I’m the reluctant genius) in my palms, sitting as the butter in-between a sandwich of jittery, lapping (that’s two on each side-source NURTW handbook), school girls who were yet to discover deodorant, but seemed well informed on the topic of Styl-plus, judging by all the neck stretching they were doing to get a glimpse of the CD I was to hide. In summary, at the time, copping this album seemed like a serious blow to my gangster.

Already familiar with the inner workings of the styl-plus machine, given that I oscillated between fan and hater during the Olufunmi era (for all those that missed it-It was a surreal period in Nigerian history when every Nigerian had this one song stuck in their head), it was good to note that nothing had changed. Production credits still go to the Styl-plus in-house production duo of Sunky and Mekoyo. Nothing changed either in the management department; Joey and T-Jazz still hold them down in that aspect. Why do they have their pictures on the other side of the album cover (Dame Dash and P.Diddy styl)? The liner notes unfold to reveal acknowledgements (God, fans, Press, friends et al) and lyrics etc. there’s also the inclusion of some Mtech promotional thing (at 0.3 beers per SMS of adult jokes, horoscopes and sex advice- they should have skipped my CD!). What’s left? Oh yeah the music.

The album starts up in typical jump-off style, with the paint-by-numbers, turn of the millennium, synthetic R ‘n’ B production (complete with synth stabs) of “Always on my mind”. As an introductory track it’s disappointing and unoriginal, with little to no replay value. The signature styl-plus sound is missing and the boys come off sounding as impressive as P-Square doing their Usher impersonation. It’s also packed with lyrics that overemphasize Shifi’s desperation to rhyme with multi-syllables:

“Girl my sanity/Lies in the humanity/that you show to me/because only me without you is vanity/when I sit and meditate/ on you my feelings levitate…” this isn’t exactly Eminem rhyming “oranges” with “door hinges” so…Skip.

“Drives me crazy” is the first step the boys take in redeeming their image. A second first impression: A tale of a philandering femme fatale playing all 3 of the styl-plus boys. With a legion of screaming female fans under their belts, it’s a hard tale to swallow. Although you’ll probably be too busy singing along (or in my case humming along) to the song to care. The signature styl-plus juxtaposition of Nigerian language hooks with straight R ‘n’ B verses, complete with introductory ewo’s, is in full effect here. Sadly this joint is revisited (and mutilated) later on in the album with lack luster raps from 2Shotz and Big Lo of “Delicious” infamy. They almost succeed in making a delicious pt 2 out of this remix. Yuck!

“Don’t wanna see you again” continues (I assume) with the story of “Drives…”. With signature Styl-plus production the boys mold an ultimatum chorus, reminiscent of Brian Mcknight’s obsession with numbers (or maybe it’s just that “1, 2 buckle my shoe…” nursery rhyme) that packs enough punch to kick the cheating winch out of your speakers.

If Ne-yo was Nigerian “Imagine that” would explain why dude can’t turn off his radio! With infectious "S&M" production that’s a mish-mash of (unapologetic) euro-pop and dancehall, Daft Punk meets Sean Paul; this song has crazy crossover appeal. You better turn off the radio and murder a couple DJs if you want to get out of hearing this one, around my way. With the same Yoruba-English combination that made “Olufunmi” the theme song of 2003 and 2004 “Imagine That” falls short of its predecessors fame only because of the familiarity of its style. This reviewer has wet dreams of a remix with lagbaja doing the Yoruba bits. Aight wet dream is an exaggeration; it’s more like a stirring in my loins.

“Coming Home” finds the S-P boys sharing one spliff too many with a couple dreads in the studio UB40 deserted in the 80’s. It’s an unexpected turn into the realm of that reggae-world beat sound of groups like Aswad. This might not be familiar territory for the ears of their fans but the boys pull it off almost flawlessly. Also the hope-the-good-girl-that-i-left-for-a-golddigger-when-i-blew-up-is-still-waiting-for-me concept doesn’t hurt, although I’m inclined to believe from a woman’s point of view it might sound patronizing (But what do I know!).

The hits keep rolling with this reviewer’s personal favorite joint “Iya Basira” up to bat. Hilarious and original, Iya Bas is the lament of a man whose addiction to the food of his local buka leads him down the self-destructive path of theft, deceit and concludes with the unspeakable taboo of shunning his mothers’ food. He resolves to get Iya Bas locked up by accusing her of rinsing her no-eyed monster into her customer’s food (a rumored practice usually flung as insults between owners of rival bukaterias). To someone like me who has been down a similar path (Stay away from Mama B of Education complex UNILAG!) lyrics like these are a lot easier to visualize and a hell of a lot funnier:

“I say the way I dey e no dey okay/

Wetin be your own advice/

I don dey steal my paddy money/

To buy Iya Basira rice/

Even on my girlfriend birthday/

Wey she dey wait make I take am to ocean view/

I no know when I pass the place/

The only thing wey dey my mind na Iya Basira Palm Oil* Stew…”

*Pronounced Oiiyel

This song is mostly in Pidgin English rap form, not usually of my taste, but the sing-song execution with a unique voice half Tuface Idibia, half Louis Armstrong was quick to win me over.

“Hadiza takes us back to familiar styl-plus territory. This time their language of choice is Hausa. A reinterpretation of a classical music sample (source unkown- you don't pay me to research stuff. do ya?) made famous stateside by Xzibit’s Paparazzi and more recently, locally, by Modenine’s Elbow Room. The familiarity of this loop which is initially inviting to a fan of the two artists mentioned turns out to be the undoing of this song. Listening to Shifi’s druken Mase meets a younger Kanye west (“Back when they thought pink Polos would hurt the roc...”) flow after listening to Xzibit, Modenine, Ammu, Proverb et al makes his attempts at blessing the mic sound more like curses.

Just when I think I’ve heard the best from these boys and its downhill from here they prove me wrong with the straight Yoruba Classic “Mase” (Pronounced ma-shey i.e “do not”) that transports me back to those late 80’s/early 90’s street blocking family(Owambe) parties. I’m right there watching this local band play Ebenezer Obey (covers), music pumping out of bass-crippled speakers, next I’m wandering the (now totally unsafe) streets of Lagos island at 1 a.m., hand in hand with my prettiest cousin (Don’t go getting the wrong idea with your filthy minds-this was at least 7 years before I became the walking erection that typeth this), reckless uncles taunting me with my first sips of beer (resulting in the eventual creation of this functioning alcohol…hic), guzzling all the Tandis, Dr. Peppers, Zests, Crests (and whatever other soft drinks are out of circulation now) without caring about the inevitable humiliation of having to spread my mattress in the sun the next day. These boys couldn’t have done better if they resold nostalgia in a tin of Danish cookies filled with clippings from Uncle Wole’s Animal Club magazine and a taped recording of an episode of under 5’s (sorry if I lost you there but I was born nostalgic-I even have memories of being a sperm…nope they’re not mine they’re Bruce Willis’s from “Look who’s Talking”).

After this wonderful trip down n’gbati memory lane yours truly is brought crashing back down to the reality of open relationships, ass-shaking, bling-blingism that is right here-right now, by the “Drives me crazy” remix I mentioned earlier. Big Lo makes a big show out of his lack of breath control thus providing us with the biggest Low on this album (big pun intended-I even rhymed) and 2shotz out bests himself as the most ig’nant Nna bros. this side of Owerri.

Thankfully the boys quickly head back into their signature (now bordering on gimmicky) sound, milking another eastern Nigerian language (Don’t ask me which one-Hausa was my NL2 in JSS) to produce “Ima” their plea for social reform, nation building mumbo jumbo. Effective it is, “Heal the world” it ain’t. Packed with a little too much of that “Love is all we need” rhetoric for moi, it just isn’t mp3 worthy.

The album ends (sort of) with the “Run away” sound-alike “Home within your heart” reminiscent of eunuchcal stylings of Irish pop bands Boyzone and Westlife. If that type of music is your forte this may be the one you’ll have on repeat, but this reviewer has one too many cavities already to swallow the sugar-coated lyrics, “The wrath of your embrace/ was a testimony of the sweetness of your grace…” Nucca Please!

Although not starting or ending in my taste “Expressions” is a multilingual vocal orgy worth the price of admission (4 beers-I'm talking star here!) and as i speak (type..edit actually) its being ripped onto my p.c, to rest comfortably somewhere in my media library inbetween Sage Francis and Vast Aire, proudly Nigerian, (at least) 3 more tracks are added to the soundtrack to this phase of my life (future Producers of the movie of Rae's life-take note).

THE END
I need a job...*Yawn*...hic