Gosh, I love the radio!
There's something about radio that I find hard to explain.
Maybe it's the anonymity that it allows or at least used to allow.
Hanging on to the words of an imaginary face day in and out, getting if not addicted but at least hooked to the voice; very similar to religion.
Or maybe it's the thrill of of having new and not so new music streaming into your space, bringing excitement into your otherwise dull existence.
It was always radio for me over television.
Coming from the less than heady days of the Federal Radio Corporation of Nigeria(FRCN), where the presenters were as excitable and interested as members of the 'Lord's Chosen Church' at industry night at Quilox night club,
the sudden array of choice on radio from just the gravelly hissing of FRCN's broadcast was indeed God sent.
Turning the knob on the old sound system in the house, starting from RayPower and listening to two middle aged men who appeared to be cruising though a mini mid-life crisis, trying desperately to hang on to the last of their youth like K-cee the Limpopo crooner trying to hang on to his hairline.
Ogas Keke and D1 Adeneye (my name is Dayo by the way and it was irritating as hell when everyone assumed that calling you D1 would make your summer and probably put food on your table too) for all their inadequacies, were pioneers and totally made RayPower the standout station of its time.
Then the Americana returnees/ The 'I've never been but I somehow have an American accent' came on board.
Cool FM , Rhythm 93.7 came and revolutionised the scene. They allowed the youth, irrespective of background and affluence have a real feel of urban pop culture.
You'd be hard pressed to find anyone in his/her mid 20's and up who was not addicted to Dan Foster and his goons on the 'Good Morning Nigeria' show.
It was fun and madness all the way with Dan Foster in his prime; before he started chasing Lagos girls and had an opinion on everything.
Dare Alade might seem like a failed/failing/ never gave it his all musician these days but in the good days of Cool Fm, he too was a legend!
Then we had the also-rans; Star Fm(do they still exist?), who gave it their all but just like in life, for every Tuface, there is a Black Face and for every Ramsey Nouah, there's a Hanks Anuku!
Your prayer as I attempt to waste five minutes of your life on this blog, is for yours to be a life of change.
Somebody loud the Amen!
Say it loud with your hands doing 'Shoki' and waving it about like you just don't care!
Errrrmmmmm... sorry I got carried away there. Just re-enacting what a friend of a friend's friend claimed he heard in church the other day.
Anyway, back to the meat of the matter.
Just about the same period when radio was reforming in Lagos, folks in Rwanda were also having a taste of their own radio revolution.
In June 1993, the Radio Television Libres des Milles Collines(RTLMCS) began broadcast in Rwanda.
It was rowdy and used street language.
The aim was to appeal to the unemployed, the delinquents and a large forming mass of a disgruntled population.
The station spewed hate and venom and quickly had a huge following.
The world laughed it off and said free speech should not be compromised.
The result, as they say, is history.
Rwanda went on to witness arguably the largest form of genocide in Africa.
Radio Televison Libres des Milles Collines had a big part to play in that.
The same appears to be happening in the East of Nigeria.
A skinny, bookish-looking and frankly unremarkable man, hiding away in the cozy brick houses of the United Kingdom is doing Same with Radio Biafra.
Free speech and a right of pursuit of equity should indeed never be contested but neither should inciting violence.
And he appears to be amassing a following.
Young ones on Twitter who have never had their Indomie and egg dinners and occasional success at 'Setting P' interrupted appear to be ignorantly following.
There's nothing heroic or glamorous about war.
Only death and destruction.
It's easy to make the noise and cry before the battle but where would you be if the Kalashnikovs start rattling?
Just ask Mr Emeke Uche (A 'Biafran' man if the 'Director' had his way), who after doing all the acrobatics and Kamasutra styles he must have learnt from hell knows, where he ran to after his wife gave birth to a 3rd set of twins.
A word, as they say, is enough for those who understand.
Wise or otherwise!
P.S: The Flipside of Life is still on the twitter machine @doctorrotcod
There's something about radio that I find hard to explain.
Maybe it's the anonymity that it allows or at least used to allow.
Hanging on to the words of an imaginary face day in and out, getting if not addicted but at least hooked to the voice; very similar to religion.
Or maybe it's the thrill of of having new and not so new music streaming into your space, bringing excitement into your otherwise dull existence.
It was always radio for me over television.
Coming from the less than heady days of the Federal Radio Corporation of Nigeria(FRCN), where the presenters were as excitable and interested as members of the 'Lord's Chosen Church' at industry night at Quilox night club,
Turning the knob on the old sound system in the house, starting from RayPower and listening to two middle aged men who appeared to be cruising though a mini mid-life crisis, trying desperately to hang on to the last of their youth like K-cee the Limpopo crooner trying to hang on to his hairline.
 |
| We see you bro. We see you! |
Ogas Keke and D1 Adeneye (my name is Dayo by the way and it was irritating as hell when everyone assumed that calling you D1 would make your summer and probably put food on your table too) for all their inadequacies, were pioneers and totally made RayPower the standout station of its time.
Then the Americana returnees/ The 'I've never been but I somehow have an American accent' came on board.
Cool FM , Rhythm 93.7 came and revolutionised the scene. They allowed the youth, irrespective of background and affluence have a real feel of urban pop culture.
You'd be hard pressed to find anyone in his/her mid 20's and up who was not addicted to Dan Foster and his goons on the 'Good Morning Nigeria' show.
It was fun and madness all the way with Dan Foster in his prime; before he started chasing Lagos girls and had an opinion on everything.
Dare Alade might seem like a failed/failing/ never gave it his all musician these days but in the good days of Cool Fm, he too was a legend!
Then we had the also-rans; Star Fm(do they still exist?), who gave it their all but just like in life, for every Tuface, there is a Black Face and for every Ramsey Nouah, there's a Hanks Anuku!
Your prayer as I attempt to waste five minutes of your life on this blog, is for yours to be a life of change.
Somebody loud the Amen!
Say it loud with your hands doing 'Shoki' and waving it about like you just don't care!
Errrrmmmmm... sorry I got carried away there. Just re-enacting what a friend of a friend's friend claimed he heard in church the other day.
Anyway, back to the meat of the matter.
Just about the same period when radio was reforming in Lagos, folks in Rwanda were also having a taste of their own radio revolution.
In June 1993, the Radio Television Libres des Milles Collines(RTLMCS) began broadcast in Rwanda.
It was rowdy and used street language.
The aim was to appeal to the unemployed, the delinquents and a large forming mass of a disgruntled population.
The station spewed hate and venom and quickly had a huge following.
The world laughed it off and said free speech should not be compromised.
The result, as they say, is history.
Rwanda went on to witness arguably the largest form of genocide in Africa.
Radio Televison Libres des Milles Collines had a big part to play in that.
The same appears to be happening in the East of Nigeria.
A skinny, bookish-looking and frankly unremarkable man, hiding away in the cozy brick houses of the United Kingdom is doing Same with Radio Biafra.
Free speech and a right of pursuit of equity should indeed never be contested but neither should inciting violence.
And he appears to be amassing a following.
Young ones on Twitter who have never had their Indomie and egg dinners and occasional success at 'Setting P' interrupted appear to be ignorantly following.
There's nothing heroic or glamorous about war.
Only death and destruction.
It's easy to make the noise and cry before the battle but where would you be if the Kalashnikovs start rattling?
Just ask Mr Emeke Uche (A 'Biafran' man if the 'Director' had his way), who after doing all the acrobatics and Kamasutra styles he must have learnt from hell knows, where he ran to after his wife gave birth to a 3rd set of twins.
A word, as they say, is enough for those who understand.
Wise or otherwise!
P.S: The Flipside of Life is still on the twitter machine @doctorrotcod
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