Olamide has peaked—and it’s sad to watch.
Olamide’s low risk model might be more profitable commercially, but it does make it seem like he has peaked. Like he has gotten to his highest high, and that there is nowhere else to go.
I love Olamide, but I wasn’t always at this point. I remember my first contact with his music, and my reaction was, “I hate this guy.” Ironic, right? Well, you see, I used to be a hip-hop elitist/purist and I didn’t think his music fit the bill at that point. I have grown now, of course, but it has also helped that he has put out quality records over time.
Now, I believe that Olamide is one of the most influential brands in the Nigerian entertainment industry. From transitioning from a hood rapper on the streets of Bariga, to the crown prince of afro-pop/hip-hop, and finally, a perennial top-5 biggest artistes in the country, he has been able to do one thing: make people relate to his journey, passions, joys and lows—all through his music. And for this reason, we have rewarded him with our rapt attention, money, love and hype.
His influence is stuff of legends. Asides being one of the biggest label owners, ergo, helping lots of artistes establish a footing in the industry, he has also succeeded in making street music—colloquially known as “shepeteri music”—one of the biggest genres in the Nigerian music industry. I still think his “Baddest Guy Ever Liveth” and “Street OT” albums are really good albums. Since they were released, I’ve been caping hard for Baddo. He brought me into his story, made me a believer, but as it recently unraveled to me, it seems like he has stopped there. It is disheartening.
Watching OLIC 5 (Olamide Live In Concert) on Hip TV some days ago, I realized one thing: There’s really nowhere else for Olamide to go at this point. We—his fans and himself, I think—have settled into an annual routine of Olamide putting out a seemingly endless stream of hits, signing new street artistes, and controversy, which finally culminates at OLIC concerts at the end of the year. In fact, as a fan, I have come to expect nothing more now.
Compare this to his superstar contemporaries like Wizkid and Davido. As a Wiz or Davido fan, you never really know what to expect from them at the beginning of the year. Yes, you know that they will put out hits, probably sign new awesome talents, get embroiled in some occasional controversy, and organize concerts, but that’s like the bare minimum for artistes of their status. Even smaller acts do all of that without much of a tussle. What separates the big boys from the laggards is usually the big moves they made to advance their careers during the course of the year; some form of measurable progress. When I talk about progress here, I’m not talking about the “mental health” version that sounds like, “mentally, I’m in a really good place right now” or “I’ve had time for personal growth and reflection.” While all that is good and fair for the artiste, the fans want something tangible. Something like Wizkid selling out 20,000 capacity O2 Arena and getting an official “wizkid day” declared in his honour by the state of Minnesota in the US, or Davido performing to a crowd of 10,000 people in Suriname. To put that in perspective, Suriname has a population of 563,402 people. So, about 2% of the population. That’s mighty impressive. All this is asides the major moves that Burna boy and Mr Eazi made this year.
You see, the irony of celebrity is the fact that your fans love and adore you, but not really. What most people do to you is project their lives on you. We (the people or fans) need celebrities to serve as icons for us, for them to entertain us—by any means possible—and take us out of our own less glamorous lives, even if it’s for a brief moment. Or why do you think celebrity gossip columns and pages garner lots of views? We want to share in the joys of their wins, get inspired by their stories and connect with their lives. We don’t love celebrities for themselves, we love them for us. It’s a sort of “fml, let me live vicariously through this guy” state. This is why talent is not always directly proportional to star power or celebrity status, and why people always say that “in everything you do, make sure you win.” It’s because, people will forget that you’re a lazy, talentless hog as long as you’re racking up these W’s. This is unfounded, but I believe that celebrities’ stories and lifestyles inspire core fans, more than their talent entertains them.
To accompany the hits that an artiste puts out, he/she needs to have a record of wins. The fans want you to go overseas and prove yourself. Win the hearts of people over there, so when outsiders start vibing to your art, the initial or home fans can gleefully say, “He’s dope, right? We been knew,” “He’s our person, he represents us.” Nothing brings more people to your side, than a track record of consistent and carefully calculated wins.
This is also why I believe, Cassper Nyovest will be — if he’s not already — one of the greatest artistes to ever come out of South Africa. When Cassper started out, a number of people connected to his music and his sound—but some people hated it. I remember when he was talking in one interview and he noted that a lot of people complained that his sound was too similar to Kwaito, an indigenous South African genre. Fast forward, about seven years later, he has tinkered with his sound so much, and made lots of big moves that he has won fans across most mainstream music genres in South Africa. After he released his initial hit, “Doc Shebeleza,” he put out a remix with American hip-hop legend, Talib Kweli, at some point, he went on some European tour, appeared on Sway In The Morning, and more.
Even more impressive are the Fill-Up concerts he has been organizing for four years now, consistently selling out the biggest venues in South Africa, smashing records along the way. I remember when he announced that he would fill-up the 20,000 capacity TicketPro dome in Johannesburg in 2015. Many people were doubtful about if he would be able to pull it off. Their concerns were genuine. Up until that point, no South African artiste had ever single-handedly sold out a venue that big without enlisting the help of an international artist. Cassper did it anyway and the next year, he announced an even bigger 40,000 capacity Orlando stadium. Of course he sold that one out too. He has been expanding the show ever since. This move has earned him plaudits from all around the world and at home. It is worth noting that the president of the Republic of South Africa at the time, in 2015, wrote him a personal letter to congratulate him on the achievement of selling out the TicketPro dome. And in all of this, he has garnered more fans, stans and admirers from around the world. I remember hoping I could travel to South Africa just to attend one of his concerts at some point.
That’s what being a legend feels like. It’s like putting a whole fan-base on your back and lugging them everywhere with you—on your journey.
Olamide isn’t doing that. It seems like he has settled into a predictable routine now. Put out hits all through the year and organize an OLIC at the end of the year. No international collaborations, no tours, no major performances, just the usual. I remember having a conversation with a friend, as to why Olamide never really goes to other African countries for shows. It’s almost like he’s stuck in the country. My friend speculated that it is probably because Olamide raps mainly in Yoruba and that the market outside the country might be too small for him to make much of. But I disagree. If Fuji artistes can tour the world as far back as the 80’s I don’t see why Olamide’s versatile style won’t get a crowd in places with lots of Nigerians like the UK.
Admittedly, I think he tried to break out. In 2017, Olamide attempted to fill up 24,000 capacity Teslim Balogun stadium, probably to rival Phyno’s incredible numbers in Enugu. He couldn’t pull it off. I thought he would follow-up on that and try to go again in 2018, but it didn’t happen. He went back to Eko Hotels—his safe zone—for OLIC 5.
Ultimately, Olamide’s low risk model might be more profitable commercially, but it does make it seem like he has peaked. Like he has gotten to his highest high, and that there is nowhere else to go. For a huge fan like me, I would say that it is disappointing, and it makes my Olamide-fandom journey less enjoyable. I would love to see Olamide score wins outside the country like Wizkid and Davido, but if the man thinks where he currently is, is the best place to be, then who am I to say otherwise?
By Samuel Ishola for Urban Central (Tweets @UncleSmish)
Remember you can also follow us on Twitter @TheUrbanCentral
If you enjoyed this story, please click the 👏 button and share to help others find it! Feel free to leave a comment below.
