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Of late, my neighbourhood is subjected to blaring
sounds emitted from a couple of music shops located
side-by-side, a few religious institutions
transmitting the words of the Gospel via
high-powered speakers and a regular drunkard who
stutters and shouts nonsense every night. As if that
is not enough, we are deprived of our rights to
listen to FM stations by two new broadcasters
testing their equipment at our expense.
The Church, which had once appealed to me as a
spiritual resort for peace and tranquillity where I
confided my problems to God and the saints, has now
become an agent that robs me off my hard-earned
peace of mind and sweet morning sleep. This is not
to say that the teachings of the Church are
irrelevant and unnecessary. As a matter of fact, the
words of the Gospel seem to be a safe haven for
people who have resigned from many of the worldly
activities in light of the growing state of
decadence among some members of society at large.
Could not the message be conveyed to the target
audience in a much more democratic way without
having to trespass the rights of others of a
different sect and religion? What about the sick,
feeble and those on the brink of death that need no
sound therapy but complete siesta and peace of mind
in the dead hours of the night?
Here again, I pray asking the frequency assigning
pundits or the environmental authority gurus to tell
me wherein lies the duty and responsibility of
ensuring the protection of the rights of citizens to
live in a safe and unpolluted environment. I would
have thought the pertinent agency assigns
frequencies cautiously watching that these stations
would not have any problem of cross-broadcasting or
interferences before they are given a license.
I happen to reside in the vicinity of one of these
stations. I could not listen to any one of the FM
stations due to superimposition and cross-casting. I
had to call and place my complaints hoping the
feedback will help the company.
A fortnight has elapsed now and nothing has improved
to date. The days of the middle wave have come back.
The trouble is the programmers and the medium of
communication at the peak hour do not go with the
demands of the majority.
Music is available in abundance, despite the
interference. But I am losing the morning sport
news, traffic accident reports and commodity price
index, which, by the way, hold little water on the
main when it comes to actual buying prices in the
market. Informative as it is, the traffic accident
reports by Constable Asefa Mezgebu (what a name that
goes with his duties!) would have been more useful
if it were to include hints of alternative routes to
take to avoid congestion.
In the hay days of the Monarchy, we were enjoying
participatory music, a phenomenon that has become a
rarity these days. In a tavern or local boozing pub,
you would often find a couple musicians, the hubby
often playing the masinquo, a string
instrument that accompanies his vocalist wife
echoing the lyrics offered by the regulars in the
pub. The words often convey demeaning messages to
the targeted audience repeated by the singer who
also takes the duty of rhyming and articulating much
to the delight of the author.
The message is not lost on the target. The victim
takes his turn and tries to come up with a rhyming
lyric that serves as a response, often rude and
provoking conflicts.
A third party takes the floor, and dictates a more
appealing and compromising satire that deserves
applause and admiration from the customers in the
room. The ensuing animation fetches a good fortune
translated into money notes fixing on the forehead
of the singers. There is some prestige reflected in
the amount given, not so much for the quality of
music, but for a little show-off.
The lyrics often concentrate on the issue of who is
who, like praising the family of someone in terms of
his or her ascendancy from the aristocracy, or the
ruling class or what they have done to their country
by way of gallantry during the war of aggression or
wealth expressed in terms of charity rendered to the
poor or the material possessions one owns.
The height and width of the thatched-roofed
dwellings, number of rounds of twig fences around
the compound, type of ammunition and the number of
rounds of bullets one carries, or even the type of
horses and mules one rides are also mentioned as a
credit to donors. Singers praise the rich describing
the kind of meat they have sliced and the quality of
the tej offered to them during a feast thrown by the
father or grandfathers a long time ago.
There are times when a member of the audience vows
to take vengeance on a fugitive who may have killed
a family member and given an alibi for the true
killer. Such people often leave the room earlier,
conspicuously brandishing their arms and disappear
into the darkness, setting the culprit in fear and
terror.
There is no denying the fact that music is also
something important that would keep the mind and
body fully content and kept in ecstasy. Sweet and
refined melody and well-intentioned lyrics are good
food for the soul. Time has changed and music has
reached a stage that I find it hard to explain.
Has our music progressed or regressed?
I am, however, amused by the excellence of
elucidations and analytic verdicts our music pundits
give to the contestants of the weekly Ethiopian
Idol show. With due respect to the experts and
jury, I fail to understand some of the terms they
use when they give their verdicts. Such terms like
high and low pitch, singing off tune, dancing out of
choreography, edging melody and others are foreign
to most of us, leave alone the job-seeking poor
fellows that have come all the way from the
hinterland.
We have been listening to music as old as half a
century and have not reached the level of music that
we can claim universal to our credit. Nor have we
attained little more than hundreds of plagiarists or
copyright offenders. Seldom have we won
international accreditations as such. Maybe the
drought of musicians would be gotten rid of by the
strenuous efforts of the Ethiopian Idol
promoters that encourage more and more signers to
come forward, show their talents and become
celebrities of tomorrow.
Judging by the expression of their bliss when told
they have made it, most of the candidates seem to be
in dire need of employment at any cost. The test is
conducted to sieve talented singers or dancers and
not musicians who play instruments. Like all
contestants, most of the candidates panic, stutter
or even break into tears when they are told that
they have not made it.
Except for a few cases, the jury is almost always
unanimous in its verdict. If one says he is not
happy the others follow suit, a phenomenon common
elsewhere too. Sometimes the audience knows better
and gives its verdict through applause or whistling.
But who needs music within the context of the cost
of living today, not to speak of tomorrow? |
