Nimbly nightmarish
He is not an immediately impressive presence. However, the founder of Konvict Muzik and Kon Live Distribution Aliunane Badara Thiam alias Akon, his stage name, is a footloose, lecherous leprechaun. At least that was what I suspected when I reluctantly accompanied my teenage son Karim to watch his hip-hop idol mooch his sweetly-sung, infectious inflections. But it is what Akon does with his silken, singing sound that counts. "This music is about breaking free from bad habits," Karim explained with an all too familiar, overexcited adolescent sonority. I nodded a little absent-mindedly, acutely conscious that I was the oldest dude in this enormous, adoring crowd. Even as I was desperately trying to contain my own ennui, I had to accede that my son had a point: it is not for nothing that youngsters revere Akon. The man is as scintillating as his surreal, streetwise lyrics.
Akon's choreographic motifs include writhing, twitching, sprawling and mad rushes -- yes, those were outlandish. He jumps on the spot, and I mean leap. I guess that's what they mean by hop. Akon hurls himself at the audience at random. He did that not once, twice or thrice but after the seventh spring, I lost count. His fans go wild with excitement. Everyone wanted to touch his naked torso.
It was 2pm, and the crowds were seething with melodramatic commotion. I sensed trouble. Small wonder that Akon's debut album was christened Trouble. Be that as it may, in Cairo he seemed at home and in complete command.
Akon's show is unabashedly about success. But, it is also about the guts it takes not to give up. With agile, self-mocking skill he mesmerises his audience. Sensual and eager, he is ruthless when needs be. " Body's like weapons of mass eruptions." His Cairo audience was dumbfounded.
A haunting stanza from his smash hit "Lonely" captivates the crazed audience.
I'm so lonely -- I'm Mr Lonely
I have nobody
For my own -- I Mr Lonely
Akon's lyrics soon earned him a spot at the vanguard of the hip- hop generation. His lyrics are autobiographical, conversational, impulsive, often punctuated by sheer erotic desire. His heavenly- sculptured body, pulsating with unbridled passion, took centre stage. He just knows how to cut away the fat. Frenzied girls screamed hysterically. One or two fainted with nervous exhaustion. The music maker himself was protected by Goliath-like bodyguards who with lightning speed shoved the girls that dared steal a kiss off the stage. They distorted the theatrical iconoclast with cutesy sight gags.
And yet the carnal appetite he so frankly exhibits betrays an almost infantile innocence. "Operation of Nature", his first song, recorded at the age of 15, says it all. Konvicted earned him a Grammy Award, I was assured by Karim.
Jailed in the US for robbery and drug distribution charges, Akon is nevertheless one stellar name that adorns my son's world view. It was something of an eye- opener watching middle-class Egyptian teens prepared to get trampled underfoot for the love of the jailbird whose flight to freedom inspired them so.
"Locked Up" was the triumphant result of his incarceration. "Can you please accept my phone calls because I'm locked up, locked up". Heart- wrenching stuff. However, he used his time in prison to work on his music. " Money? No problem, pocket full of that now," he boasts in one of his hits, "Smack That".
Smack that, all on the floor
Smack that, give me some more
Smack that, 'till you get sore
And back to "Locked Up". Karim was my guide as I tried to read his guru correctly. I just sat there with my notebook asking him question after question after question. Attempting rehabilitation in his late teens and early 20s after serving a sentence is no obstruction to self-respect and self-fulfillment. That was lesson number one as far as my son was concerned.
"Locked Up", "Ghetto", "Belly Dancer", "Lonely", and the list goes on. Akon was not ashamed to be a young man on the make. "Locked Up" was a heart-rending confession. "Locked Up" was a rendition of the pent-up feelings that facilitated his natural musicianship to express itself so freely. Writing and recording from his home studio, Akon metamorphosed into an artist with total grasp of largest canvasses. And he was obviously capitalising on his gifts big time.
Making so much money
Ride up smooth and fast
Put away the stash
And as I sold the last bag f***d around and got locked up
"It was an emotional reaction to an unbearable reality," he shrugs with a sigh. My son promptly emphasised.
Trouble, his solo debut, was released on 29 June 2004. It topped the charts, reaching the top 10 in the United States and top five in the United Kingdom. At the Cairo Opera House last Thursday, Akon was supposed to start his show at 8pm. His fans were getting restless, but he was apparently caught up in some intractable Cairene traffic jams. Nobody believed the organisers' excuses. I could see that in the glim stare of the blank-faced girl chewing gum next to me.
All of this might be a bit too much. But they were waiting for Akon. And they were prepared to wait all night, and I understood why when Akon arrived well past midnight. He mustered as much propulsion as any professional African performer could. The sheer sense of colour and spectacle was executed with enormous enthusiasm and verve.
The inauguration of Barack Obama as the 44th president of the United States was deeply significant for Americans, white as much as black. It also had additional resonance for people around the world, Egyptians not excluded.
In Egypt, the perception of what constitutes blackness has changed. Akon, though, is a blunt reminder that black is black. But he also embodies the notion that black is beautiful.
It might sound wild submitting to the whims of your audience, but that is precisely what Akon did. Hugely imaginative, strange and funny and at times outright scary, Akon is a phenomenon that cannot easily be forgotten. His performance is memorable because of its intimate scale and concentration on the theme of alienation it is irresistibly arresting, albeit a touch too relentless.
Akon's final freewheeling round the stage made all the difference. Dislocation and alienation might well be well-worn themes, but they appeal to youth around the world.
Akon's English delivered in a strong African- American accent was not always easily comprehensible by a Cairene audience. And I couldn't help feeling, however, that the vocabulary was somewhat limited, handicapped so to speak. However, as they say, a little goes a long way.
Playing the fame game, Akon won hearts and minds. Mind you, most of his Cairene fans seemed to appreciate his prickly singularity. They hummed along his songs; most had learnt the lyrics by heart, the blasting African beats giving the Arabic accents and offbeats a generous cushion.
So compelling is the performer that the audience interaction is possibly a gimmick too far. Crazed girls jump on stage to touch his bulging biceps. The catchy tunes are entrancing, and he metamorphoses into something of a Messianic figure.
The iconic figure on stage was staging an orgy. I looked at the audience all around me -- some were listening intently; a few expressed curiosity; one or two revulsion; others were entranced, swaying their hips to the beat; and there were those who plainly exhibited the body language of plain old lust.
His music bellows in a bewildering array of genres. That is one of the secrets of his success. At that point the whole show seems like a standoff between gangs.
Hey ladies drop it down
Just want to see you touch the ground
Don't be shy girl to go Bonanza
Shake your body like a belly dancer
Akon takes laconic pauses, as if psyching up. There is an unmistakable defiance in his lyrics, which are enhanced by the poignant rhythm and the pungency of the music. If the huge appeal of his songs is chiefly down to the universally identifiable narratives about making money and making love, then his persona has played the largest part. He is the proverbial comeback kid.
He's no pop puppet -- that is for sure. "Cairo, are you ready?" He bellowed. And his audience was ready to uncoil to fill it, incrementally inch by inch, with all the hard partying exposed for all to partake.
For the next hour we watched his bizarre behaviour. An at all costs wannabe, Akon is reaching for the stars. In every other respect, however, he is superhuman. Yet his vulnerability is palpable. The lyrics of his "Ghetto" are painfully telling.
These streets remind me of quicksand
When you're on it you'll keep going down
And, there's no one to hold on to
And there's no one to pull you out. You keep falling
And, no one can hear you calling
So you end up self-destructing
At some point during the long night, with me nursing a bad cold, he mimicked Tarzan on stage. Or was it King Kong? Fans, likewise, leaped up and perched in the trees of the grounds of the Cairo Opera House. Nickering, sobbing and hooting all at once, overcome with emotion. The shrieks of some girls were deafening. Some others stomped their way towards him, elbowing everyone and everything out of their way.
It was all rather terrifying, and it was at that moment that I felt it was time to call it a day. I dragged Karim, who by this time was a little dazed. But horror of horrors, we couldn't make our way through the pressing crowds. I sense within seconds that it is definitely time for us to leave. And by hook or crook we do .
Reflections on a unforgettable evening: Akon's "Gansta" articulates the pain, and the promise. Son of Senegalese percussionist Mor Thiam, music runs in his veins. Yet in spite of the hardened show, he does have a heart, believe it or not. Such love shines through in the lyrics of his "Mama Africa".
So much love to share, pure blackness,
oneness so rare
So much love to care.
Let them know they're missing
out Mama Africa
Have so much love to share, sweet blackness, oneness, met up there
"I'm working on more uptempo records for her. She's been through a lot and has a dark history," Akon says of Whitney Houston. "So we've got to make the album brighter because she's come out of the cave now."
Playing all the action, Akon was carried shoulder high from one group to the next. "I must reach out to everyone out here, not just to those who paid LE1,000 for tickets." He was steadily making his way to the LE500 tickets and on to the LE250s, like a giant, deadly poisonous black mamba on the lookout for a prey. I knew I really must make a dash for the gate before it was too late. In the wee hours of the morning, 3pm to be precise, the Cairo Opera House now resembled some cramped prehistoric cave.
Steady claiming like a pimp
But will never go free
Say that ain't gangsta
Niggas fronting like they hard
Recommend
Comment
Printer-friendly
