Kizz Daniel, unperturbed by his sophomoric lull, has dismissed it for greater things. His latest single, Fvck You, produced by Young John is currently the hottest thing in the industry—and will probably give him more bragging rights than his entire ‘No Bad Songz’ album. Fvck You is not a half-bad song, even after a first listen and here is why.
Fvck You enjoys soothing percussions and spare rhythms courtesy of Young John. The music is bare perhaps because the song’s strength lies within its lyrics. It begins with the arresting rhetoric, “na you dey cheat, na me dey beg” setting up the momentum for an abusive and manipulative relationship with a “Sisi Yellow” whose hobby is promiscuity. The song takes another interesting turn when an actual body count begins with names being called out of a register.
On the song’s surface, Kizz Daniel’s persona is the victim of sexual infidelity but a deeper take is that it is a song about slut-shaming, publishing body count and, ultimately, revenge. The crooner seems to be avenging his moral rectitude within a now failed relationship and the handwritings on the wall (read rumours) is that it is inspired by personal and actual experiences. This song is believed to be loosely based on Vado’s last glamorised relationship and the reason why it was short-lived.
Regardless, the song pays obeisance to both hip-hop and highlife traditions. In hip-hop music, misogyny has never been in contention. Songs like Eamon’s Fuck It and Ceelo Green’s Fuck You rush to mind. As always, the story is one-sided, told from the scorned man’s point of view with the female voice silenced. Rather than focus on their feelings and thoughts, these songs assume an abusive bent, filled with forceful expletives and nearly never concerned about emphatic reflections.
Highlife music came to its element at a time when patriarchy, as handed down to us by colonialists, held sway. Females in the society were conferred societal status by virtue of marriage and their supreme roles at the time were to keep the home and raise a family. Women who did not conform to these expectations were often sung about: from Fela’s lady to the toxic songs of Baba Eto (Adeolu Akinsanya)—women were expected to listen to their husbands and enjoy being silenced without reservation. Any woman who failed to conform was christened Asewo.
This tendency has persisted in contemporary Nigerian dance music. The only thing that has been revised is nomenclature. Asewo is now better known as Olosho—and while the body count of the female is a thing of shame, that of the man admits him into the fvcking hall of fame. If Fvck You, as we suspect it to be in the fashion of Daniel’s earlier song, Gobe, is indeed based on true events, Kizz Daniel’s intention is to shame and to challenge the agency of the female persona in question—and his techniques are well-wrought.
The song’s lyrics are decidedly sparse. Rather than decant an entire story with appropriate timelines, it levies accusations and raises body counts without specifics, wallowing in what could have been self-pity if Kizz Daniel was not stoic about playing victim.
However, what is more interesting is that the song has grown in leaps and bounds on account of the FvckYouChallenge, energised by hashtags and sharing on social media.
Running into its second week of fervent relevance, FvckYouChallenge is a one-minute-long attempt at owning Young John’s beat. Expectedly, this challenge has revealed some really new up and coming talents. More interesting is that established male musicians have also jumped on it—Falz, LadiPoe, Chinko Ekun, M.I. Abaga, Sarkodie, even Fuji maestro, Pasuma.
The divas of the industry have also not been left out. Eva Alordiah dropped an extended rap verse flipping the narrative and finishing off with smooth raga. Simi brought her silk and honey voice into the matter, ditto for Tiwa Savage. But the most staggering of the entries is that of Victoria Kimani and Seyi Shay who used their free verse to stoke beef they already had with industry mates.
They both seem to agree on their mediocrity and disregard for Tiwa Savage, resorting to slut-shaming and age-shaming. For them, this premeditated hijack of the challenge might be to draw blood and perhaps some sympathy from a listening audience. But the uncanny logic, or lack of it, is that they take down one of their own in the process by doing exactly what the male folks do.
In the end, Fvck You is an abiding song with the resolute refrain—you change am for me—which rings true in every iteration of the song.