AGIDIGBO MUSIC....

THE AGIDIGBO EXPERIENCE.... They didn’t look like much. The tallest one who was obviously the band leader had reddened eyes that would have been at home with any criminal and a greasy sunburnt face. His most striking attire was a faded brown cap that had lost its original shape due to dedicated use and had now assumed a funny jagged roundness. I noticed that he didn’t speak much; maybe he was just saving himself the agony of communicating with his limited vocabulary. The other two were the typical every day street variety types; the Lagos island variety that is. They hurled in a few strange looking instruments onto the stage. I got a glimpse of a regular guitar; finally something familiar. The microphones were quickly set up and the trio gathered around it in readiness-they had their game face on. I noticed a wooden box of about two feet high with a small square cut somewhere in the middle and about three metal strips attached with nails to the edge of the square hole and sticking out into the cut space. Someone whispered that it was the main instrument for playing Agidigbo music. You had to pluck the metal strips with your fingers to produce a dull sound that would then echo inside the hollow box to make a rhythm; then you had to hit the side of the box with a small stick. I shifted in my seat expectantly as the band leader sat astride the Agidigbo box and adjusted his frame. He produced a small stick the length of a spoon and struck the side of the box in quick succession in readiness. He took one last look at the audience through blood shot eyes and let it rip. It wasn’t studio perfect or laced with engineering ingenuity yet it rang out clear as day. It was a combination of crude choruses that petered out in a basic harmony line. They improvised as they went along adding an unrehearsed line here and there. They had the added advantage of being praise singers too and so people quickly scribbled names on pieces of paper and passed it to one of the band boys who whispered into the band leader’s ear and he deftly added the name into his song as he went along. I was amazed. It was a crude on-the-spot freestyle format that would have made mode 9 sound like a stuttering child. It was simply ingenious. I sat spell bound as i absorbed the rich sound of the percussions that accompanied the music. The other band members were experts in their own field. One of them balanced the traditional instrument called a sekere (what the uninitiated called a shaker.) in-between gnarled fingers and started a shaking orgy. The third member had a round drum that he beat in rhythm with a blunt stick. The song rose and fell with a surreal pattern that washed over the crowd and produced a solemn spiritual ambience that was both soothing and quickening. Agidigbo music had won me over. It had found a special place in my heart. I smiled self-consciously as i made a silent oath to come back here next Sunday.

HENRI YIRE is a PROFICIENT SINGER/SONGWRITER; he attended the renowned PETER KINGS COLLEGE OF MUSIC in Badagry. When he’s not reading thriller volumes, or encouraging others to, he’s listening to an inordinate amount of Radio Programs, attending entertainment events of any kind that piques his fancy, and drinking obscene amounts of coffee. He writes about a varying amount of unconventional topics on a weekly platform he calls ‘MONDAY MUSINGS’ at www.henriyire.com and can be found on twitter @henriyire and on facebook at Facebook.com/Henri Yire He is currently working on the sequel to his new book ‘OPERATION A-MEN’, which he titles ‘OMON’ and a short story series tiltled 'SPIRITS.'