One of my all-time, modern-day local RnB songs is BeePee’s ‘Mak Cinga / Hold my Hand’ (released roughly 10 years ago, back when we still had hope and affordable fuel). This gem was recommended by a Lango friend who swore on his grandmother’s cooking that I’d love it. I did. This was after I dared him to show me one Lango artist worth listening to. I am the type of person who can listen to just one song for a whole month without checking into rehab or losing friends.
At the time this song was released, there was a growing rumour of a rift and possibly a split within Pine Avenue 5 Record Label. OJ Maxwell and MC Wangjok were said to be discontented and had considered leaving, presumably to find a label with better snacks in the studio. This was good for the creative juice of the two artists, whom some, including myself, felt were limited by the mediocrity of the label and its unclear sense of direction.
(Honestly, the label’s direction was so unclear that even Google Maps couldn’t help.) However, there was a huge unanswered question: Who would replace the duo if they left? The many options available were only as good as spare tyres, functional in an emergency, but you wouldn’t want to drive to Kampala on one.
Brian, a friend of mine, and I sat under a makeshift mabati shelter that had seen better days, much like our ambitions. Next to us was the Vitz, a Land Cruiser and a double-cabin. (The cars have no bearing on the story, but I mention them because men and cars have a spiritual bond that defies logic.)
While under the mabati, we tried to guess what options existed for Wangjok and Maxwell. Maxwell had just recently released his hit song ‘Catchy Lover’, and it was on replay at every music outlet, including the ones that still thought Bluetooth was a dental condition. MC Wangjok, on the other hand, was churning words like he had discovered Hip Hop.
As fate would have it, BeePee was the immediate replacement for OJ Maxwell and people’s fears were allayed faster than a politician’s promise. He blessed the Northern airwaves with songs such as ‘Amoko tama’ and his solo performance of ‘Par Pira’ while at the label. BeePee’s move to Pine Avenue opened the Acoli market for his voice, his music, and a taste of fresh RnB style, like someone finally decided to add actual seasoning to the musical stew.
At the Open Mic Festival, 2022, we were honoured to witness BeePee perform at the revered annual event. The soulful artist hiding behind his iconic black glasses with white frames, looking like a mysterious librarian who could also steal your girl, sang his heart out. His melancholic voice drove a section of the ladies wild. Each song he sang drew even more noise, and possibly a few phone numbers he never asked for.
Paul Mutanga and I stood a few metres away from the stage, witnessing the lad perform his magic. Slowly, I whispered to Paul, ‘If this lad ever sings to your woman, you will go back home alone, on foot, possibly crying.’ To this day, only a handful of artists who graced the Open Mic Festival can be termed soulful, and BeePee is one of them. The rest were… let’s just say they tried.
He will remain arguably the biggest RnB export out of Lango for a long time to come, unless someone discovers a singer who can also make a decent plate of malakwang, which is statistically unlikely. BeePee leaves behind a gap that may not be filled anytime soon. In an era when music has been simplified by technology to the point where your neighbour’s cat can drop a single, the heart of music has shifted to the passion of the artist, and BeePee was a jack of them all, master of all trades, breaker of hearts, wearer of questionable but iconic eyewear.
Every single death is painful; this especially hurt me. It should not have been, at least not yet. The playlists will miss him.
