Mr Eazi thrills and strives at the Shrine

Four hours after the publicized 8pm opening of his 8 July concert at the famous Shrine in Lagos, Mr. Eazi was yet to appear. In his place a series of more or less forgettable act performed—that is excepting the teasing, flirtatiously dancing Niniola, the restive Small Doctor and one or two others. But such is the reign of Mr. Eazi that his absence kept the audience. Standing room was keenly contested, and seats went on sale. As always at the Shrine, the entry fee was a reasonable figure, 1000 naira ($3), but if you wanted a seat past a certain time, you had to give any of the guys carrying a pile of plastic chairs half that gate-fee. Someone was making brisk business.

Before Mr Eazi, who alongside Ghanaian producer Juls, has stirred a movement of mellow dance-pop showed up, several acts came and left, leaving a whiff of inability in their wake. "Everybody let's go now," one sang. Nobody looked like they were going anywhere.

Ajebutter 22 and BOJ fared better, singing ‘Omo Pastor’. Both got the audience cheering. Jaywon followed, turning his hit 'This Year (Odun Yi)' to something more meditative than celebratory. Terry Apala lifted the crowd with his trippy apala songs. But Small Doctor and Niniola got the biggest cheers, the latter closing her set with 'Maradona'.

News from the larger world of pop music filtered in with DJ Spinall, who subtly addressed the beef between Nigeria’s biggest pop acts. "No be Wizkid and Davido first go Yankee," he said. "Na Fela first go Yankee."

Minutes past 1.30am, Mr Eazi came on, trademark raffia hat on head, jacket with no vest on torso and trousers inches above Adidas shoes. His opening song sounded like an Afrobeat version of one of his songs, but a failing sound denied him the grand entry he clearly sought. He recovered, sang live, affecting a Fela stance. At first, he went through some of the not very popular songs from his mixtape. All through he maintained an engaged coolness.

By singing ‘Anointing’, he entered the realm of his hit songs, juggling his own lyrics with those from Bob Marley and Majek Fashek. A contemporary artist looking to associate with ancient, longstanding greatness, he switched genres, at one point turning to Igbo gospel and palwine music.

The less than optimal condition of the sound equipment at the Shrine meant Mr. Eazi's attempt at near-acoustic versions of his hits wasn't so successful, as the already sleepy tempo of his music decreased further. It seemed a case of contrasts: Mr. Eazi was quite the performer, as he talked and strutted on the big Shrine stage, channeling Fela well enough, but the music needed better sound fidelity and a venue more intimate than the cavernous Shrine. The way to go about it was soon provided by Lil Kesh who neglected any live music pretension and mimed to his own fast-tempo music. The crowd loved it.

For a certain type of concert-audience in Lagos, what is required is familiarity: hit song and the presence of a popular singer. It hardly matters if the latter is singing the former or standing idly, mouthing off. This audience pays for an artist’s presence not his talent, a situation sometimes caused by an artist insufficiently mediating the space between microphone and crowd. So upon Lil Kesh’s exit, Mr. Eazi sang and mimed along to playback music. He went over some songs he had performed earlier, as fans danced to studio versions of 'Ohema', 'Hollup', ‘Skintight’. And by the end, at around 3am, Mr. Eazi had mostly abandoned his band and their music instruments. Life may be Eazi, but a great live performance is hard.