![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() In a way, tags are the aural equivalent of the bat signal, an attempt at forcing listeners to acknowledge the producer’s presence in an era defined by playlist shuffles, oversaturation in music releases, dwindling attention spans, and (still rampant in Nigeria) online music piracy.Īll these factors have contributed in making producer tags a necessity of sorts, especially in a music space that keeps on expanding but is still figuring out how to properly appreciate those working behind the scenes. As it played, two people in the car started hailing Rexxie for the infectious bass-heavy beat, unknowingly giving credit to the wrong producer, even though Niphkeys-the actual producer-had his tag announced in the song’s opening seconds. As music consumption has become primarily digital, though, it’s become slightly more complicated to find out producer information if it’s not plastered directly on the song’s artwork and/or within the song itself.Įarlier this year I was in a car with a few friends, and whoever had the aux cord spun Naira Marley’s “Koleyewon”, an undeniably slapper that’s inevitably become a big single. In the late ‘90s and around the turn of the millennium, producer tags weren’t rampant, mainly because production credits were imprinted on the album/single jackets of physical CDs and cassette tapes. While playing a key role in the creation of music, only to play the B-role in terms of popularity is a tacit part of the job description, music producers have increasingly taken to the use of audio tags as a means of cornering some well-earned recognition for themselves. It’s not an exaggeration, seeing as producers have been heavily instrumental in ensuring that modern Nigerian Pop music has remained inventive, integral to inducing several sonic shifts and a musical landscape that’s become incredibly diverse. In his Issue 003 NATIVE cover story, Cruel Santino referred to producers as “guardian of the sound”. In the last two-plus decades, with the widespread adoption and use of Digital Audio Workstation (DAW) programs in Nigeria, producers function as composers of the music and, in the many cases where there are no live session players, the equivalent of a one-man band during music recording. With those older, aforementioned genres, artists often doubled as composers and they worked with live bands to execute their music, while producers generally oversaw the process and filed the rough edges. Where Highlife, Juju, Afrobeat and other older genres of music that dominated Nigerian music in previous decades relied on live instrumentation, technological advancements in music production has significantly altered and expanded the role of a producer. At the same time, though, the attention imbalance doesn’t fully represent how indispensable producers are in the process of creating music these days. Considering how heavily artists invest in being visually identifiable by the audience, the disparity in popularity is par for the course. On the opposite side, producers are largely incognito, and that anonymity tends to rob them of public admiration. At the same time, though, he was an intriguing personality, something like ‘90s Puff Daddy with an arcane charisma, which shot him up to a level of fame and reverence typically not associated with music producers.īy virtue of being far more conspicuous, artists are the most recognizable cog in the music-making wheel. Similar to another era-defining peer, OJB Jezreel (R.I.P), ‘00s Don Jazzy was a Svengali with an unrelenting repertoire of hit songs. Rema’s adlib at the beginning of “Bounce” isn’t entirely alien-Wande Coal used it on “Taboo”-but, to my old self, it didn’t feel emphatic enough to announce a towering, era-defining super-producer, albeit one who’d recalibrated his role in recent years, from helming hits to commissioning them as one of the most successful record label executives around.įrom Jake Sollo to Laolu Akins, Nigerian music had witnessed a handful of popular, prolific and in-demand producers in previous decades, but it’s undeniable that Don Jazzy effectively transformed the idea of a super-producer by aptly blowing it up. During that run, there was an ever-present adlib that will forever be immortal in Nigerian pop music: “It’s Don Jazzy again!”. Thinking about it now, my reaction wasn’t really a sign of disapproval, it was one born out of a sentimentality for nostalgia’s sake.Īs an early to mid ‘90s kid, the bulk of my adolescence and early teen years was marked by the dominance of Mo’ Hits, the Don Jazzy-led crew that held Afropop in a chokehold at will every year. The first time I listened to Rema’s “Bounce”, produced by Don Jazzy, I scrunched my face a bit at the opening adlib: “Na who do the beat? Jazzy!” I remember that moment because I still have the same reaction even after dozens of listens. ![]()
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