Nostalgia is the ultimate sickness no known vaccine at any rate can circumvent. A pretty, unique affliction dedicated mostly to humans. A damn generational malady we all must succumb to, at some point in our lives whether we like it, or not! And instructive to note; that there’s no known cure for It! A weird life’s one-sided agreement that dictates we only can see farther and, perhaps better into the future by checking the rearview a few times in a lifetime! Therefore if you are dead asinine, or simply bothered about the pitiful acts of the innocent fellow frequently romancing the past; please go harder on yourself and feel free to romance a stone, a pebble, or a flatbed rock instead!
I once had a dog named Nostalgia. I abandoned it at Fiditi when times were simpler and great. Nostalgia loved me so much, it trailed me to my present highbrow address in Abuja where life’s thoroughly become a scavengers game.
The start of ‘The Masquerade’; once one of the longest-running, satirical, situational comedy on Nigerian National Television in the 70’s to the 90’s tickled my fancy in ways damn too hard for me to capture in words.
More than the show itself (which was standardized as top-notch in the manner TV programming went in those days, with its uniquely qualitative star line-up): was the show’s theme song. I shall safely adjudged ‘Eddie Quansah’ -the most recognizable theme song for, or one paired with any other original TV Shows in the Nigeria of my youth. Perhaps the best!
That music was never, ever played beyond the quip of the first stanza, and it’s usually cut off in a quick snap before one gets warmed up to its scintillating rhythm, its high tempo melody and its sexy, sharp, impromptu guitar riffs! In hindsight, I am pretty sure strict sponsorship directives and, or prompt timing precluded the song’s unusual, and unsettling cutoff point.
I was ready to forgo the maddeningly funny screen chemistry of Ben Iroha, Clarus, Claude Eke, Chika Okpala, Christy Essien and Lady Ovularia just to listen to that captivating music in its entirety; and if they were kind enough to play it all night too! That bassman made a tedious job seemed so easy; I reckon he only stood there in one corner in the studio and went “Dum-Dum- dum-dum-dum- Dum-Dum” as he either tapped his feet, or nodded his head along the funky weight, the coolness of the music he helped carry along with his cool musicianship. He only changed the chords just about the time the lead vocalist was approaching the hook part, or when he was ascending the bridge leading to the catchy chorus of the song: “…Isu Kama lanle die bia o, bia o!”
The percussion rank, the rhythm section and the lead guitar, combined with some powerful, harmonious vocals effectively shared love in what one could brag about as a display of a sweet, musical ménage a trois!
Everything about Eddie Q was just great! And it’s still damn great! As great as the moment a man must restrain himself, to pretend he’s conforming to one of the coded ‘gentlemen’s book of rules’ : “Ye must not be in too much of a haste, but must wait and watch the woman slowly undress before jumping on her for sex!” That particular, methodical way she shimmies out of her underwear freezes time! It’s the moment the brain start to record and pass on the instructions to the optic nerve to take unforgettable snapshots of her vivaciousness, her curvaceousness, and those hips; and that bald, or bushy V-shaped pubic area some men in a quick, mindless minute are ready to die, or kill for! That part alone is better than the actual act of copulating! Even better than the monotonous act of foreplay.
Eddie Q on its strength is a musical time capsule. It immortalized a TV show which it duly served as a perfect tandem. It captured an old, foreign automobile, one Mike Merchandise-the Electronics dealer; one OGB Bros; a Chika Bros Of West Africa- the General Importer; one Chuks Okoye, the gas dealer; one Akajakwe; one Ejeske Nwosuji, a Traditional Prime Minister, but most importantly it captured well the essentiality of a time long gone by. Not the best of times, and not a notable worst either. It all depends on where one stood, or presently standing to either look, take into account and judge wisely before ultimately making conclusive, analytical comparisons between then and now! Truth be told: that simple, four minute-long piece of vintage music ought to be certified as All-Nigerian: A timeless, trans-generational rhythm!
A song rendered by a supertight Igbo band, with vocals delivered in Igbo language but with a smooth, catchy and easily recognizable melody- well laid with the ultimate purpose of making it just fan-friendly, superbly adaptable with a non-prejudicial chorus line. There’s hardly a soul made of this earth, even one born so silly, or the ‘daft-as-a-plank’ fellow who ought to fail in the most simple task of singing a song in a Karaoke contest with the chorus ending in a jubilating line of: “bio bio”, or “bia o bia o!”
I often wonder how that show would have fared if the choice of the theme song was different. Could it have lasted that long if that song wasn’t married to that show? I also would like to know what the energy level in the studio the day the album was recorded felt like. How many bottles of beer, or cigarettes of blunts got wasted before, or during the laying down of this historic number? And lastly, who the hell was Eddie Quansa sef?
