"If you're a hustler, go on then Jay-Z -
You'll find a way to sell honey to bees".
You'll find a way to sell honey to bees".
It is often said that a scene coming into being marks the start of a new dawn, but for the most visible exports of Ghana's post-millennial hip-life scene – your Rockstones, M3NSAs, M.anifests et al - the unifying principle is not so much a common musical aesthetic as it is a communal ethic: the compulsion to infer honesty, creativity and professionalism over the swagger and nonsense that once bemocked the hip-life genre.
It's difficult to review Wanlov the Kubolor's Green Card without sinking with the debris that is Kubolor's wardrobe (or lack thereof) and his ever complex array of musings at the close of most of his newly recorded material.
Arriving in Ghana three years ago from North America, on paper Kubolor seemed a direct contrast to the prevailing touchstones of the then hip-life concern: he boasted no auxiliary marketing/promotion for his finished product, introduced the first ever concept album for the genre and created a precedent for the infusion of influences (musical and otherwise) from the sub-continent into the genre. No spotlight-stealing guest features, no lewd connotations to his lyrics - just him, unassuming as he comes, in standard emcee/singer/charmer form.
But Kubolor has not let his plentiful deficiencies and his message of embracing true self stop him from thinking and functioning like a mass collective. He manages to express his life experiences, rhyme unending of his love for the motherland, make a spectacle of himself (he’s clad in a wrap and tee only) whilst yet sounding a message of freedom, of peace and of love in such clear tones that it would take another act twice his size to dream of cooking up an album like Green Card.
Such is this new dawn orchestrated by Kubolor's debut that it is only fair to belong to a genre of its own - Kubolor may call this pseudo-genre Pidgen-pop, I label it 'ingenious'!
"So get to 10 grand and holler 'What It Do?!..
..meet me downtown mami and say - "I do!"
It is not surprising in the current times for an emcee previously tightly wound as Kubolor to eventually loosen up as he did on Green Card; the increasing growth numbers at Artists, Interrupted may have served as sobering reminder of what happens when overseas musicians in North America stuck too close to type. That is not to say that Green Card plays out as some premeditated step toward maturity. Far from that. Green Card explores the different shades of a young man's blues. Following the opening serenade to Ghana's 50th Anniversary, the title track, Kokansa and Human Being reassert this new wave of honest songmanship.
After spending most of the record summing up his previous life and the joys of being welcome home, Kubolor handles his only narrative on the record with meekness and modesty in spirit, coupling his typically self-celebratory language with a poet's candour. Laredo is perhaps the boldest modern political statement to be made in song. Throughout the sentimental track, he keeps his chin up and shares a hint of his struggle over an emotive and ambiatic production from 7even.
Green Card could have been as immature as they come without the efforts and originality of the new breed of prolific producers featured all over the album. In the context of pidgen drama, "how perfect sey Kubolor meet M3NSA, whose Felaesque production enriches Kokonsa, for Adisco?" Similar symmetries make any chance happening of these two feel like an unaccountably alive and complete session. Little wonder we find Kubolor most at ease on Kokonsa.
The title track, Green Card, is the record's core, both lyrically and in the grander sense of what the album represents. 7even's ultra-raunch drum kicks off with horns with a blurred refrain serving as the sample. By far Kubolor's most insightful track on the album.
But the album is more varied than most critics will give it credit for. (Unfortunately, that variety also includes Asem and Sagaa, two tracks to many for Green Card). Production from Kweku Ananse comes as a pleasant surprise. Kubolor is a catchy and grimy piece which sees its verses sounding like 70% inspiration and 30% perspiration, taunting, dodging and oozing across the production from Kweku Ananse. It sounds like a track that was fun to make and serves as an excellent definition for the Kubolor character. Other notable production credit for My skin and the nostalgic feel of Never Die makes Kweku Ananse a producer to watch.
One caveat however: Green Card suffers from bad sequencing which may diminish the listening pleasure: it starts off well but then grinds to a slow halt after 'Asem' and will not pick up again until 'Choptime'. But well-sequenced or not, Green Card is a breath of fresh air to the stale condition that had become the norm for the genre. It is a never-wearying, well thought out, with layer-upon-layer of carefully considered yet accessible hip-life tracks which are forward-thinking but always close to the roots. The most conceptually intriguing hip-life album to date - good luck finding better. Mainstream, underground, or other.
Arriving in Ghana three years ago from North America, on paper Kubolor seemed a direct contrast to the prevailing touchstones of the then hip-life concern: he boasted no auxiliary marketing/promotion for his finished product, introduced the first ever concept album for the genre and created a precedent for the infusion of influences (musical and otherwise) from the sub-continent into the genre. No spotlight-stealing guest features, no lewd connotations to his lyrics - just him, unassuming as he comes, in standard emcee/singer/charmer form.
But Kubolor has not let his plentiful deficiencies and his message of embracing true self stop him from thinking and functioning like a mass collective. He manages to express his life experiences, rhyme unending of his love for the motherland, make a spectacle of himself (he’s clad in a wrap and tee only) whilst yet sounding a message of freedom, of peace and of love in such clear tones that it would take another act twice his size to dream of cooking up an album like Green Card.
Such is this new dawn orchestrated by Kubolor's debut that it is only fair to belong to a genre of its own - Kubolor may call this pseudo-genre Pidgen-pop, I label it 'ingenious'!
"So get to 10 grand and holler 'What It Do?!..
..meet me downtown mami and say - "I do!"
It is not surprising in the current times for an emcee previously tightly wound as Kubolor to eventually loosen up as he did on Green Card; the increasing growth numbers at Artists, Interrupted may have served as sobering reminder of what happens when overseas musicians in North America stuck too close to type. That is not to say that Green Card plays out as some premeditated step toward maturity. Far from that. Green Card explores the different shades of a young man's blues. Following the opening serenade to Ghana's 50th Anniversary, the title track, Kokansa and Human Being reassert this new wave of honest songmanship.
After spending most of the record summing up his previous life and the joys of being welcome home, Kubolor handles his only narrative on the record with meekness and modesty in spirit, coupling his typically self-celebratory language with a poet's candour. Laredo is perhaps the boldest modern political statement to be made in song. Throughout the sentimental track, he keeps his chin up and shares a hint of his struggle over an emotive and ambiatic production from 7even.
Green Card could have been as immature as they come without the efforts and originality of the new breed of prolific producers featured all over the album. In the context of pidgen drama, "how perfect sey Kubolor meet M3NSA, whose Felaesque production enriches Kokonsa, for Adisco?" Similar symmetries make any chance happening of these two feel like an unaccountably alive and complete session. Little wonder we find Kubolor most at ease on Kokonsa.
The title track, Green Card, is the record's core, both lyrically and in the grander sense of what the album represents. 7even's ultra-raunch drum kicks off with horns with a blurred refrain serving as the sample. By far Kubolor's most insightful track on the album.
But the album is more varied than most critics will give it credit for. (Unfortunately, that variety also includes Asem and Sagaa, two tracks to many for Green Card). Production from Kweku Ananse comes as a pleasant surprise. Kubolor is a catchy and grimy piece which sees its verses sounding like 70% inspiration and 30% perspiration, taunting, dodging and oozing across the production from Kweku Ananse. It sounds like a track that was fun to make and serves as an excellent definition for the Kubolor character. Other notable production credit for My skin and the nostalgic feel of Never Die makes Kweku Ananse a producer to watch.
One caveat however: Green Card suffers from bad sequencing which may diminish the listening pleasure: it starts off well but then grinds to a slow halt after 'Asem' and will not pick up again until 'Choptime'. But well-sequenced or not, Green Card is a breath of fresh air to the stale condition that had become the norm for the genre. It is a never-wearying, well thought out, with layer-upon-layer of carefully considered yet accessible hip-life tracks which are forward-thinking but always close to the roots. The most conceptually intriguing hip-life album to date - good luck finding better. Mainstream, underground, or other.
