Singing from the heart

Denis Asiimwe
WHEN Whitney Houston went into the studio with her producer Kenneth “BabyFace” Edmonds before doing her songs for the album and movie soundtrack Waiting to Exhale, she was still recovering from a rather harrowing experience: she had just had a miscarriage.

BabyFace asked her which of the three songs he had planned for her contribution to the album she wanted to try out recording first and she decided on the ballad Why Does It Hurt So Bad _ She did it in three takes.

For those of you to whom this might not seem a big deal, get this: a song is often recorded more than 50 times, and the producer gets out bits and pieces, cuts and puts the best parts together before you have the final track. Whitney sang that song three
times and BabyFace decided it was a wrap. She nailed it, mostly because she felt the pain in the song, with a marriage that was floundering as well as with the loss of her baby. It makes you wonder, do the songs we get to hear reflect what the singers are feeling?

And considering that love is one of the more popular subject matters especially with songs in Uganda, do the musicians belting out the songs really feel what they are singing about or is it a case of cynical positioning? The cynics do have a number of arguments that defend their position rather well. First of these is clichéd phrases that litter love songs in our currently dusty little country: I am not sure how many times I have heard the phrase ‘kabite’ but surely the fact that it inspires a gag reflex is no coincidence.

The cynic’s second argument is the observation that despite the declarations of fidelity, dedication and all the other amorous promises that are often sang out with nearly manic glee in your typical love song, the singers simply do not reflect this in their daily lives.

The man is singing about how he can barely live without you and an hour later is in the club, juggling 19-year-olds like he is a circus act. Another reason why you just don’t buy into most Ugandan love songs is the alarming lack of emotion in most of them. There she is, belting out something about you being “the one” and she sounds like she is singing about detergent.

But the most glaring defilement of the love song today is how almost each and every one of them seems to be built around a traditional wedding ceremony. It’s a nightmare, with songs having lyrics like “introduce you to my parents”, “take you to the ceremony”, and more such sappy tunes that are just galling to listen to.

In the background is the unseen executive producer grinning ear-to-ear while thinking: “Perfect! This will play at all those dopey introduction ceremonies where the bride and her attendants come in jiggling like they have a foot affliction of sorts.” (You all know that walk, while some awful Mesach Semakula song plays sentimentally in the background and the watching audience claps while grinning slightly foolishly).

The love song is dying, and dying fast in this town, because rarely do people sing with heartfelt emotion any more. In the month of February, that old legendary month of love, we are going to be regaled by love songs from various musicians, songs whose sincerity will have as much weight as a Jamaican priest.

The idea of Toniks singing about love is a flat bald lie, while Angela Katatumba leaves you feeling cold, despite the fact that she might be one of the few genuinely talented singers who dares to put out anything; Bobi Wine, Bebe Cool and Jose Chameleon can bring charisma to a long song, but certainly not the emotion you need to believe; Mose and Weasel give it a bubble gum image, despite their best efforts.

I can think of only a handful of singers who really do sell you on the emotion of love, and I believe their strength is that they are able to channel whatever they are experiencing in their lives or probably did it up from some wellspring of memory. Juliana Kanyomozi sings with emotion, and if she is doing a love song, you know it without even having to understand the lyrics. Now we have a rough idea of what was really going on with her at the time, and I have to say that it is mostly speculative, what with Amon and all, but if any of you thinks she doesn’t mean what she is saying when she sings Nabikoowa, you need to have a quiet word with your therapist.

And since we are on the subject of love, how about the gospel hit Kanyimbe in which she defiantly seems to express the idea that as long as things are okay with her and God, well what the heck, she will sing. Her voice soars on this song. And in Maureen Kabasiita’s Kasengejja, it was a bit like a celebration of a woman in love. (Dare I mention the purported target of her feelings? Not I!)

Angela Kalule went through a couple of interesting changes in her life, career-wise and personally, which she is fairly candid about, and you can tell this in the way she delivers her songs. But the fact that she is having a great ride is best expressed in the infectious Katikitiki, and this is probably the real secret behind that sleeper hit.

Silver Kyagulanyi treats the subject of love like a favourite child: he could write tons of pages on the subject if he wanted to. But he is not the only genuinely enamoured male singer. Jamal positively haunts you in that ballad Abakazi Bazira; forlorn, melancholic, the perfect foil to a love unrequited.

And everyone’s favourite introvert Aziz Azion is the perfect guitar balladeer. Aziz, according to urban legend, is painfully shy. You can tell the pent up inability to express himself when he sings, and his bridges (songwriters here seem to dread bridges) are riveting.

Is there hope for the love song today? There is of course. You will always be able to tell the difference in one big hurry, from someone who is faking it in a song to the real deal; after all, there is a reason why Adele is such a hit. What she sings about is raw, and real. The next time you hear that word in a song, ask yourself: Do they love?