Wizkd, Asa: Fighting depression with two opposite sides of Nigerian music

Wizkid and Asa exist on opposite sides of the music spectrum. But they can work together to push you out of depression.

Half the time I am claustrophobic from having to write.

Every day, I walk into this large office and head straight to a small portion of my brain, where I am alone, with only Nigerian music and the words that seek to make sense of them. On many days, it would be such a happy place to be in; a space where two of my favourite things in life come together to earn me a living.

But those days don’t last forever. No one can exist in a constant state of emotional highness. Life goes in circles, and for every time you touch the sky, you have to fall back down to earth. It is those lows that create blues, and sometimes, my darkest blues are black.

It isn’t entirely easy to pour yourself out in various forms, from morning to night, creating words, telling stories, weaving words and educating people about the Nigerian music industry. At some point, the words depart from you, and the songs begin to sound like an unwanted guest. At these moments, your blank screen transforms into a demanding boss, insisting that you give one more effort, one more try. Bleed one more time.

 

That’s when the darkness infiltrates my day, and the sun never rises when I look outside. Some people call it depression. Others find interesting scientific words to slap on it and look the other way. It is depression alright, induced by a failure to create.

For me, it is writing. For you, this feeling comes from many sources. The loss of a loved one, getting fired from your job, dealing with a failed project, or generally just being unhappy at life. You begin to slip deep into the darkness and find new ways to sink into these arriving shadows.

Whenever I hit this state, I look for new ways to push me out of it, and nothing I try works, except when I stop writing and face the music. And so far, only two Nigerian albums combine to push me out of it.

They are Wizkid’s “Ayo (Joy),” and Asa’s “Bed Of Stone.”

 

Wizkid and Asa exist on opposite sides of the music spectrum. They represent different schools of music. Where one is emotionally driven and academic, the other keeps encourages the enjoyment of life at the most basic level. These are the two songs that bring me out of it. On days like these, they are no longer artists. They are lifelines, and their music provides the healing.

How?

I start with Asa. Asa is cerebral. She and her guitar understand the mechanics of emotion. She is a slave to her feelings and a mistress of expression. All of her music is driven by the emotion that it inspires. She’s like that best friend that sits by you, places a hand on your shoulder and whisper the words: “I have been there too.” She then proceeds to tell you her story in the hope that you feel communion.

On “Bed of Stone,” you could taste her raw suffering. ‘Satan be gone’ is a plea to prevent falling into an emotional abyss. She clutches at straws and begs to escape, but it never happens. You sink along with her, falling down as you scream for salvation: “Help me, help me…”

But no one answers. And when you hit the bottom, the song ‘Bed of stone’ caresses you at ground zero, and introduces you to your demons. This is that lowest point of your crash, where you settle in with your problems and familiarise yourself with the details of your personal tribulation. Everything here is a mirror, where your darkest sides are reflected back to you. And just when you are about to get lost, you find the perfect soundtrack of pain in ‘The one that never comes.’ Help never comes. Really, it doesn’t. You have to find it.

Asa helps you cope wih your demons, but to leave them, you have to call on Wizkid. With his blustering façade and pop energy, he offers you the bright side of existence, and pulls you away from theee gloom.  A record like ‘Ojuelegba’ shines positivity through, reminding you how you have surmounted far greater challenges. And once that sinks in, it’s the turn of ‘Jaiye jaiye’ and ‘Show you the money’ to remind you that life doesn’t have to be that hard. It drags you back into the light, where you begin to fly towards the sun again, with a dose of happiness, and freshness.

That’s what Nigerian music does for you. All the different aspects of it provide something to help, to heal and to stimulate. Your world might be far removed from the reality of the musicians, but you do have one single thing in common: You are human, and so are they. They too lean on their material for strength,  comfort and help in their times of desire and mental conflict.

So when life feels too tight to be anything good, and the air is knocked out of your lungs, it is okay to crash, but don’t linger too long in the dark. Find your favourite artists, and let them pick you up and throw you towards the light.

We all deserve to be happy.