Bez Idakula.
35.
Gbagyi Child.
Married.
Has seen the light.
Let me explain: Some 10 years ago, he started walking into an arts expression show, Taruwa, and performing his songs accompanied by the strumming of the guitar. He did that twice a month for three years.
This segued into his clout-packed first album, Super Sun. Five years passed before he released his sophomore album produced three years before. Named for his 15 million strength ethnic group, Gbagyi Child, this album was hardly the placeholder it should have been.
Gbagyi Child was a problematic album burdened by the sheer number of influences and its intrinsic ambition. Bez let himself into a grotto where the ghosts of Motown, the quest to become an exemplary songwriter, the need to pay obeisance to his Gbagyi roots, to be woke and yet accessible, soiled his process. The result was the well-mastered, busy but blustering sophomore effort which even he can’t be particularly proud of.
You will find him on the album cover, sporting dark shades and a spice of orientalism: don’t be fooled. The Light is neither Asian spice nor voyage of influences – this is Bez restoring himself to his rightful place.
This album is breezy, with 11 tracks and just 37 minutes of spool time. It begins with the optimism of ‘Better Days’ quite reminiscent of another guitar-wielding minstrel, Patrice. ‘High’ continues with that drug-free optimism, passing the baton to the Afrobeat-inflected ‘Shine’, which holds up optimism within the context of subtle paranoia.
The album moves in the direction of love in ‘Faraway’ and definitely one of the album’s comical standout is on ‘Go Go Go’ when Ric Hassani gets his report card. These love songs are excited about exploring geography as a precursor to navigating affection itself.
‘Look Away’ is not burdened by gloomy material even when characterised by a certain kind of snobbery or silence. ‘Beauty’ seeks to motivate but the music made in the company of the Neo Highlife crew, The Cavemen, adds a pep that relies on masterful musical arrangement and acapella impulses.
‘Gona’ gives you rap and some Northern lyre and chorus all at once. ‘Dey for you’ is just vintage Bez and the album ends with the frantic guitar strummings of the Nsikak-assisted ‘The Light’.
It is like saving the best for last and for an album that has dwelt on the harmonious coordination between the guitar and the gab, ‘The Light’ itself is musical mastery that eschews lyrics.
This review was already done in the 5th line–Bez Idakula has seen the light—but what would be the use of a review that doesn’t take you through it like some acoustic tour guide?
It has indeed been a quantum leap from Gbagyi Child to The Light. Bez has not only got his mojo back, he now knows what to do with it especially in the present darkness.