The kinetic brilliance of CDQ’s Werey Yo

The model success story is Olamide, who now cuts across the classes but, going by his last album, appears to long for only the devotion of the streets. Behind him is Reminisce.

Part of what these guys have going for them is the Yoruba language, Nigeria’s unofficial language of Nigerian pop music. (English and pidgin are its only rivals.) They are also talented rappers when the mood strikes. Another thing they have is energy—conveyed in both delivery and in beats, which are primarily furious, rhythmic drum patterns. Small Doctor’s crossover hit ‘Penalty’ had similar features. But it is the energy bit—along with the rest—that brings us to CDQ.

For some time a rapper known and loved by the street, CDQ began to make moves towards a partial relocation a few years ago. He got more attention from mainstream media; his appearance changed; like other acts today, he teased the cover of his album online. But he knew he was never going to flee too far from the streets. So the one thing that didn’t undergo an entire makeover was the music—lyrically and sonically.

As with Olamide’s and Reminisce’s, a significant portion of CDQ’s lyrics is sexual. Sex with these men, going by their own songs, is frequently violent, unstoppable and with debatable consent. But the streets love the lack of political correctness in their bedrooms. And backed with their danceable beats, featuring a good many percussive elements, those lines are lapped up.

Both of those qualities have produced the best of CDQ’s more upscale songs. ‘Werey Yo’ as far as titles declares its madness upfront. It is madness with some style, some rhythmic method. The protean Masterkraft, who has made beats for the suave Banky W and some midtempo single for the cool Kiss Daniel, produces some of his most cacophonous-yet-patterned beats for CDQ to ride over. The union is an incomplete reunion, following ‘Indomie’, Masterkraft's 2014 hit song featuring CDQ and Olamide.

Both songs are not songs to just listen to. The aim, clearly stated in this one, is to provoke a visceral response—albeit one with some element of control lest one embarrasses herself on the dancefloor. CDQ’s delivery is dictated entirely by the beat, the former finding the troughs of the latter and laying low therein and then doing same for the peak.

If delivery and production demand dance, the last element completing the package is the music video shot by Clarence Peters. Aptly, Peters lets go of a narrative—instead the video is a series of scenes featuring dancers and the rapping figure of CDQ. The different scenes of dances are united by the presence of the video’s colour and dance motifs, especially deploying the shaku shaku as choreographed by a host of attractive, talented dancers. It is in a way similar to how CDQ unites his non-straightforward Yoruba lyrics with his half-hollered delivery.

Peters who has never quite been as adept shooting in open spaces uses a closed set but cleverly indulges in a noirish aesthetic, an effect that visually mimics the streets. CDQ’s choice of outfits—stylish without being snazzy and at some point all black—creates the impression of a master of the streets who is ease within it. As with everyone else in the video, he is always moving or gesticulating to the beat and his own words. If 'Werey Yo' intoxicates the listener enough to move, you could say CDQ is getting high on his own supply.

Buy 'Werey Yo' on iTunes here

Artist: CDQ
Song: Werey Yo
Label, Year: NSNS, 2017