Singer turned writer Etcetera also thrashes Wizkid’s ‘In My Bed’ song.
Six weeks ago, I was in Benin City to support a friend who was getting married that weekend. We drove down to Ugbowo campus of UNIBEN, laughing along the way at bini guys and the way they pronounce certain words. We got stuck in an unusual traffic jam and my friend who was driving, took the opportunity to reply his pings, pausing only to turn up the radio when Wizkid’s “In My Bed” came on. A few seconds later, he increased the volume even more. I accepted that since I was in his car, I had to endure his choice of songs. So I listened, trying to figure out why he was interested in that particular song.
Though the melody has this jingle-catchy feel, everything else about the song is horrible. The mix brought to mind those days when Nigerian studio engineers were still learning how to mix. The overall instrumentation is noisy with the kick pitched high, like a headache. Played on F-sharp minor, which is a predominantly high key for most people, but the struggling syncopation over a lazy bass line weighs the whole song relentlessly down. My friends know that I have a crazy physical reaction to songs, mostly when I love it. In this instance, I was gasping for breath by the end, as if the song was trying to strangle me. I thanked God I was still alive when it finally ended. But as the traffic lingered my friend put down his phone, this time to surf through radio stations. Again, he landed on “In My Bed.” That was when I really got scared, thinking I was going to pass out.
This year, we have had a mix of both good and bad songs. Wizkid’s “In my bed” is one of those ear worms you don’t want to get into your brain space for three minutes and 46 seconds. Those who will say “WTF” is Etcetera saying? I want you to note that I have a zero interest in persuading you to agree with me. If you enjoy “In My Bed,” I won’t dream of changing your mind. I heard it again last weekend at my manager’s party, and for a second, I thought it was some kind of pain killer advert, because the radio station where I have my show, currently runs an ad that sounds like a more palatable version of it. My Christmas day was almost ruined when a caller on my show requested “In My Bed” for his girlfriend. Because Christmas only comes once in a year, I decided to grant her wish, but as soon as I clicked play, I had the sort of physical reaction associated with someone suddenly coming in contact with bees. And before my mind could process what was happening, I hammered the stop button quickly, arrgh! If you are one of those who regard this song as a standard club track with all the necessary “thumps and bumps” and you are angry at my loathing of it, it doesn’t bother me at all. I have fantasised for weeks about punching this song in the eye, but unfortunately, the song doesn’t have a head, talkless of eyes.
How can one song cram in so many failed decisions per minute? One minute you are trying to woo a girl into your bed, the next, you are saying Tinubu eleniyan, Fashola eleniyan. What has Tinubu eleniyan got to do with getting her in your bed? Are you pimping her to Tinubu or to the other names you mentioned in the song? There’s nothing wrong with praise singing if you do it right. “In My Bed” sounds like a guy trying so hard to get it right and therefore getting it all wrong. You packed in the same overused lines “Anywhere I go all my people show me love / And people trying to bad mouth me. Don’t you think by now, we’ve heard enough of your sniffy little screech of being chased by enemies? It is boring already. Even a connoisseur of pop trash won’t find anything to like about a song like this. “In My Bed” is one song you don’t need to know the lyrics, you may want to shield your friends and loved ones from its strange concoction. It is indeed the worse song of this or any other year. Oh sorry, this year is not over yet, so it’s theoretically possible a worse contender could emerge, but I doubt it. Let’s put it this way, if placed in comparison with any of Artquake’s songs, it would still be a distant second. I can’t remember the last time there was a hit song this whack.