Orlando Owoh died in 2008, but his music did not die with him.
You may not hear his Kennery sound as often as you want to in the snarl called Lagos traffic but the music rules the airwaves in such climes as his home state in Ondo.
It is arguable that all Taxi Drivers in Ondo state capital Akure have him on repeat. This is easy to tell: his voice is unmistakable—a brash baritone which doesn’t seek to call attention to itself. It is almost like Louis Armstrong in its uniqueness.
Trust me, uniqueness is one thing Orlando Owoh had and still has going for him, once the issue of the other Orlando is resolved.
Yes, the other Orlando is Orlando Julius, much younger but equally vibrant saxophonist and Highlife/Afrobeat fusion pioneer in his own right. Orlando Owoh was not a straightforward highlife musician; his music was called Kennery music.
Named for the small songbird, Canary, Owoh’s subversion was more obvious in his stylised spelling that some may ascribe to illiteracy. His music was adapted from palmwine highlife in a manner similar to juju music but his music if it were to be called juju was a bit of an outlier, with leanings to highlife.
Orlando Owoh, like his younger counterpart King Sunny Ade, was born in Osogbo. Like his older kin, I.K Dairo, he had a training as an artisan. Not quite a barber like Baba Aladura, he was a carpenter and then a member of a drama troupe before he broke out to become a musician.
There is no solid biography or any biography at all of Orlando Owoh; no extensive discography; no clear markings of his trajectory into becoming a regional superstar of Kennery music but what is known is that he became famous for his melodious songs and gruff voice. Add this to his delightful use of guitar wails and percussion for the most abrupt turn of phrases.
There is a lack of consensus on his LP and Live albums but Owoh was prolific, like Fela. And like Fela, he also had an unconventional lifestyle. He was known for his extreme generosity, love for women and indian hemp to which he wrote several songs.
There is “Ganja System”, that strident praise song about hemp that lists an inventory of influential users from doctors to judges. There is also that song imploring his mother not be angry because he got high.
But not all his songs are morally questionable, Owoh was a barometer of social good, like most musicians of his time. He sang about virtues like patience and kindness, and embraced story-telling as one of his techniques as well.
His cover of Rex Lawson’s “Yellow Sisi” is a peculiar delight but by far his greatest accomplishment were his elegies, dotting his discography in considerable numbers. In a sense, his elegies were praise songs in their own right.
In a country where legacies are difficult to come by, Orlando Owoh died in penury. And following his death, his music has not been treated with the respect given to monumental accomplishments. Owoh has got progenies in the likes of Yinka Aiyefele who borrowed from him in his early career and the late NoMoreLoss who remade his “Iyawo Asiko” at least a decade ago.
While our new-school musicians continue to scrape and pick creative shrapnels from the recent past for the purpose of advancing their career in popular music, Orlando Owoh’s vast discography lies fallow except for the engagement of the occasional fan!