Yemi Alade could be better and that’s the heartbreaking part

You would probably find, to your dismay, that the track runs along the “king woman” vibe and that its banal lyrics are complemented by half-decent choreography. There is also a chance, too, that for minutes after the video ends, you question your decision not to change the channel.

It is not a thought born of spite, nor is it a manifestation of “hating”. It is, among other things, disappointment, a form of protest against empty art and a sneer at an entertainer with the capacity to be more than what she currently is.

For Yemi Alade, winning the Peak Talent Show in 2009 was a sign of great things, even greater than her stint as part of the all-girl group Noty Spices. But nothing worked until three years later when she signed with Effyzzie Music Group and the song ‘Ghen Ghen Love’ graced the airwaves. There was something not-so-refined about her craft at the time, and the song’s optics were head-scratching too, but the talent was nothing if not evident, and there was sufficient reason to nurse the hope that she would not be another Sasha or Kel.

With 2014 came ‘Johnny’, and by that time Ms. Alade was no longer the wide-eyed lady with chubby cheeks, a white tank top and oversized sunshades screaming “you know I like you/there’s no one above you/this love na action o”. The creative baby fat had been shed, and a diva unleashed.

The mega-hit with a video featuring Bovi, Alex Ekubo and Beverly Osu was subjected to multilingual remixes. Wande Coal’s ‘Baby Hello’ highlighted her video vixen potential, and by ‘Tangerine’, she had attained superstar status.

A vocal contribution to Yung6ix’s ‘Lights’ (from his 6 O’ Clock album) later that year underlined her singing prowess, which meant that when she delivered the hook and bridge on Falz’s ‘Marry Me’ in December 2014, she was doing the (then up-and-coming) lawyer-turned-rapper a favour.

Her career has not been the same after that. Her profile has gotten larger and larger. Her music? Not so much.

There have been three studio albums and more than a few endorsements, but numbers do not always translate to quality. The heart-warming sound that characterised ‘Bamboo’ somehow went 180 degrees and got music purists rolling their eyes as they tried to digest ‘Ferrari’, and it’s puzzling how her music degenerated from the soulful ballads of ‘Duro Timi’ (probably the most meaningful song of her career) to the cacophony that is ‘Tumbum’.

Away from the energetic dance performances and the (occasionally) colourful attires, what people with a keen ear for music would get from her these days is playground rhymes, atrocious lyrical arrangement and cringe-worthy studio output (there was nothing remotely okay about ‘Issokay’). The defence of “showcasing African culture” cannot avail an artist when the allegation is that of a rapidly eroding musicality!

The problem is not that Ms. Alade no longer knows how to do justice to a microphone. The problem (and sadly so) is that she can, she knows this, and has probably caved in to the complacency that accompanies (perceived) success. Her sessions on Coke Studio Africa are a testament to her immense ability (peep her collaborations with Diamond Platinumz and Nyashinski), and she was absolutely amazing on Flavour’s ‘Crazy Love’ from 2018’s last quarter.

It hurts, then, when she churns out subpar material like ‘Bumbum’. So when music enthusiasts say that they would rather listen to their television’s static noise than the dross that is her post-2016 stuff, it is hardly out of antipathy; it is from a place of pain.

You could say that the time she spends thinking up clap-backs for her critics could be used to scout for an adept songwriter, but the issue is more complex. There is immense pressure to keep up her “Mama Africa” persona and the continental audience she panders to appears to be comfortable with her creative product, which isn’t much different from what is happening on radio.

However, she could borrow a leaf from Tiwa Savage, who still aims for meaning, even as she strives to maintain commercial appeal. And there are the two Apata sisters (Teni and Niniola) who serve up sweet melodies.

Right now, Yemi Alade has her fans, but unless the 2016 MTV Africa Music Award winner reevaluates her sound, before long, those fans, too, would task their remote controls when her song comes on.

Music In Africa encourages freedom of speech and expression of diverse views. The views in this article are the author's and do not necessarily reflect those of the publication.