MUSIC MEETS RUNWAY (A summary of my experience there)

IPNX, you have buggered me senseless this morning. Do you know what happens when you're in the middle of typing a blogpost and the internet goes off? You lose everything! Thanks for nothing! You just cost me 800 brilliant fighting shouty words. But don't worry people, I've got a fine anger with me this morning. I'm going to set fire to the damn rain. Yes, I'm going to shit kerosene into the sky and fart fire into the clouds. What? That isn't possible? Talk to my hand. I'm Afam. I'm a Gambian not Gambian Legend, I'm hot like amala and cool like ice, I'm not a pleb. I'm magic. Yes, my mum, Mama Afam used to tell me this every night when I was 13.

So, last night, while the bulk of you were doing whatever it was you were doing (I heard of one really awesome pool party that had girls in Bikinis. Next time. Next time. I'm not a pervert), I was running up and down like a madman at Music Meets Runway, trying to cover the event in any way that actually made sense. You see, I, Afam, am not the ordinary sort of blogger. I won't say thanks for the free tickets even though they were at the back of the damn hall. I demand the best. I like to give the best when I work, SO HELP ME HELP YOU HELP YOURSELF. Now, the good people at Music Meets Runway made it so I had to hustle with pedestrians to get my shots. I was not impressed. How do you take good pictures of Deola Sagoe's clothes when there's a six foot something mammoth of a man with fire in his ass?  DO YOU KNOW DEOLA SAGOE DIDN'T SHOW AT FASHION WEEK? DO YOU? DO YOU? DO YOU? Are you trying to kill me? What da what am I supposed to do with this?

I CAN'T HANDLE IT. LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT HIM. But do you know the worst thing? I had to hustle to get this close. Don't ask me how I did it. I obviously didn't hustle well enough. Look at how the stage looked from where those people put me.

    UNFORGIVABLE. So you mean to tell me that while all other media houses are displaying burriful shots of the girls and the clothes, this is what I, Afam, the great will be serving? I'm depressed. Also, the Press Pass they gave me was the most useless thing! It didn't allow me anywhere beyond the red carpet. But don't worry. I'm a hustler and these things are always a little porous. So, I have shots, of Tiwa Savage, twerking in her sweats. She didn't really like me taking pictures of her during rehearsals, but I'm sorry, I need the content and she looked awesome. People like a hardworking woman, so, if I see a woman being hardworking, I'm gonna take her picture. This is true of men too. I also snuck backstage where I got pictures of Uju, the model of the year, goofing around and looking great, and Ituen Bassey inspecting her models. I didn't get a chance to take a picture of Ituen on the red carpet, but she's a brilliant human being. She's intelligent and polite, and generally great. She declined to have her picture taken in a manner so gracious that I was delighted not to. The jazz won't work next time. I need to be more selfish. I need the pictures, I don't care about you, I care about me. This is the way I need to be thinking but I'm a sucker for niceness, and politeness, and being treated like I'm an actual person, so whatever.

I left at past two in the morning. At the moment of my departure, I thought, "But what is the point of music meets runway?" Forget about the pretty words in the Press Releases and think about it. It isn't a concert, let's be honest. And even if it was I believe that the vast majority of Nigerian musicians, SHOULD NEVER EVER PERFORM LIVE. When they do, they make me think that I could be doing what they do, and I cannot sing to save anything. I sound like a toad croaking from the bottom of a cold saxophone. Some of them don't even make it as far as singing. They hype their backing track. Let me illustrate using a song I quite like,

(The backing track is in italics, and the live microphone is straight. Caps are meant to imply that what is said is not sang, but SCREAMED into the microphone)

Omo, see Gobe Oh, SEE GOBE OH
oooooooooooh, Yeah, YEAH
Mogbe O, OOOO
Don't want any Gbeke O, GBEKE O
Mo ti bo sinu Gobe, GOBE
Abi omo kilode O, KILODE O

Please note that I am not implying that Davido does this, I merely used the song as an example #coveringmyass #briefdisclaimer. Also, that is not to say that any of them performed like this last night. For the record, several of them were quite good, and a few of them were even great. 

And Music Meets runway isn't really a fashion show either. By the time Music Meets Runway comes along, most buyers already have their stock for the season sorted, and there's no real press to be had from it. What sort of press can you hope to get at 2 in the morning? And of the designers themselves, What the what are they showing? For what season? Is it a collection of their pieces from the past or is it for Autumn/Winter 2014? Anyway, this is Nigeria, and that sort of thinking will get you nowhere. People have money. They who have money party fabulously. There is no rhyme or reason to it. Why should anyone need a reason to have a good time?

ps. I'm extremely grateful that I got the press pass and what not. I just had a grade 2 freak out there. I'm really happy that I'm growing, and that I can get press passes because I blog. There aren't many bloggers that can I don't think. Anyway, thanks MMR for an exciting time. There wasn't a dull moment to be had, even though I had words with a few bouncers, and massacred a few people getting in the way of my shots in my head. I'm also grateful to my camera, who's holding on to life for my sake. I heart you Big Daddy. Yes, My camera's name is Big Daddy DSLR, deal with it.

Happy Days,

Ps. hit me up on instagram (afamodi) for my pictures. I'll be taking over the social media coverage now. 


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