Carol Flower is ready to be plucked – musically, of course. The young lady delivered a performance she can chest-thump about, and together with Nuclear, the two served nothing but good vibes and energy. The future is bright. Someone water this flower.
DJ Dranix, aka “the son of a beautiful woman”, a title that does a lot of heavy lifting may well be the best DJ in Uganda right now. Ten minutes of Dranix is the musical equivalent of an orgasm, and together with his hype MC Hopkins, they upgraded that to a musigasm. For some in the crowd, it was, tragically, the last one they’ll ever experience. Condolences.
DJ Black, however, appeared to have left his skills in another city, maybe Arua. Anyone who has seen Black perform knows what the man is capable of. But on this night, save for a few brave minutes, he was a ghost haunting his own set. Unless the young man packs his decks and leaves Gulu, his career will be dusted. Literally. Someone will find it on a shelf before the next general elections
Eezzy the Lyrical, playful, relatable, and dangerously sing-along-able. For years the question was: who does Eezzy perform for? The answer: music lovers. And also, apparently, mourners because “Mama” can play at a funeral and suddenly everyone is smiling, wiping tears and requesting an encore. Eezzy starts a song, and the audience finishes it while already making plans to leave. He is that powerful and that dangerous.
Judah Rap Knowledge, the king of hip hop has outgrown Northern Uganda. The man needs a bigger stage. Where tales meet music, Judah stands as the link between the promised land and the end of war in Iran. Northern Uganda may simply be too small a promised land for him.
Awilo Longomba arrived fashionably late, just shy of 2:00 a.m. dressed in white free wear like a man who had already won. He sang, he danced, his dancers never stopped, his band never stopped, and the crowd lost their collective minds to songs they do not understand.
Let the record show: singing word-for-word to a song in a language you do not speak should be classified as a mild mental illness. If you can do it, you qualify for admission. More than half of Awilo’s crowd should self-admit, voluntarily and immediately.
Big bums, small bums, firm bums and aspirational bums all attempted to shake. Those who could shake, shook. Those who couldn’t were awarded certificates of participation and a participation ribbon of dignity. People danced like white people, aimlessly, fearlessly, and with tremendous conviction.
Those who bought early bird tickets got their money’s worth within the first thirty minutes. The rest of the hour was pure profit. Awilo came. Awilo saw. Awilo absolutely delivered.
Two lessons for every local artist: One when you’re on stage, it is business. Save your inspirational speech for a TEDx talk and local conference. Your fans can wait for a radio show like Evening Express on Mega FM to receive greetings.
The other lesson is that one should get dancers. The crazier, the better. Awilo’s dancers left necks hurting across Gulu. That girl Rita is bad news. She bent the stage pillar by humping it hard. I pray her waist is still attached to her body. I thought I had seen dancing. I had not. I was humbled.
Gulu, once again, proved it is the city of life, the one that only sleeps when the lights come on. And on this night, the lights stayed off a little longer, as they should. Awilo came, saw, conquered and left.
