Revisiting 2Baba’s Face2Face

In the late 1990s, the need arose for local record labels to fill the void left by their foreign counterparts. Previously operating in Nigeria, labels such as EMI and Sony had left that decade and the one before due to the social instability caused by successive military governments. Among a few others circulating was Kennis Music—founded by Kenny Ogungbe and Dayo ‘D1’ Adeniyi—and which scouted 2Baba and signed him after he left Plantashun Boiz in 2004 to pursue a solo career. Both music executives were groundbreaking in their understanding of superstar potential; early visitors to the Grammys, they saw how the African musician could approach the global market, not as second-fiddle but as legitimate sensations, their unique cultures working towards their branding. 2Baba represented this ambition; emerging from a beloved boy band, he already had one foot in stardom; with Face2Face, he put down the second, becoming, essentially, the first superstar of this modern era.

Perhaps the most instrumental factor behind 2Baba’s ascension was the fact of his timing; that he had no predecessors. This does not connote a lack of influences—rather no other Nigerian artist before him was cut in the same fabric, musically and visually. Timing plays a great hand in music, especially for an album released at such a pivotal period of our musical history. Arriving just five months into 2004, it captured the totality of what it means to live anywhere in Nigeria. Indeed, there’s a certain nationalism the album thrives in, in its first record pulling the Efik language into its chorus and elsewhere, the Idoma (‘Odi Ya’) and Yoruba (‘Thank U Lord’) languages, this linguistic summation achieving artistic balance through the primary usage of English and its Nigerian Pidgin cousin. Why does a consideration of a pop album care about language?

The simple answer is that 2Baba cared. In ‘Nfana Ibaga’​,​ its most-piercing lyric, and one of its most relatable, is ‘Just because of say I no finish school, some people dem take me for a fool’. Being Nigerian is to constantly peruse one’s place in the world, and to break through certain class struggles, a major determinant is the level of one’s education. A broad stroke separates the educated and the uneducated; the latter’s children view the other’s children with a certain longing, understated and sometimes dangerous, the dangling of what is there but is not, really. Still, we’ve had people make the long journey from the less beneficial to the more beneficial, sometimes not through formal education but the dogged insistence on being street smart, which, to some is actual knowledge. On ‘Higher’, the singer opines that​,​ ‘To be civilized, you don’t have to be educated’. The quality of this civilization is found across 2Baba’s catalogue and particularly in that sterling debut, where he was tasked with establishing himself as a solo musician.

Beyond the depiction of that personal philosophy, other relevant themes in Face2Face include desire and consciousness. Of varied techniques, the musician entered into these universal subjects and worked his way out, leaving no doubt as to the originality of his artistry. Desire was especially prevalent in the work; how the singer painted sentimental images of love and its absence, which complemented the naturalism of his persona. An important function of popular music is its need to be ‘popular’—that is, to fit into several occasions without sacrificing quality.

Some other artists have made niche music and coveted niche themes but those are considerably lesser artists since language is a soft tissue rather than hard brick. Across 2Baba’s catalogue, there is no shortage of variance; on his debut, that is the charging undercurrent; only desire as earlier mentioned got repeated considerations. ‘Ole (Thief)’ and ‘Right Here’ are twin records, each different colours from one palette; the former’s evocation of unrequited love merged with the other’s assurance of fidelity, together creating the portrait of the quintessential lover boy.

We should quickly say then: any other musician after his generation who has since written a love song descends from 2Face Idibia. Among his contemporaries, he wasn’t keenly challenged for the heartthrob position (not that we couldn’t have multiple). His former bandmate, Faze, was quite adept in that department, although his groove tended to get in the way of his vocals. One hears Paul Play Dairo and the boy band, Styl Plus, through the years; assured voices steeped in the conventions of classic R&B, and who undoubtedly enjoyed A-level popularity in the first half of the 2000s. These and so many others; still, one would struggle to place them within the evolved scene of today. It isn’t that the records are lacking grit; rather, the pristineness of the language, sweet without being specific, works against its ability to move between generations. 2Baba doesn’t have that problem; his songs—and particularly those in Face2Face—carry metaphors and turns of phrases that would excite today’s listener, and this is because of his association with Hip-Hop, a genre built on verbal manipulation unlike any other. It’s the reason why Burna Boy is so closely aligned with him in the discourse of musicality; he, too, understands the potential of fusing different sensibilities, operating from an unlikely angle after sustained practice. Both also share Dancehall affinities although the younger artist’s antenna there is stronger.

To bring philosophy and love together, 2Baba had to have consciousness. This goes beyond the ideological framing of the first and the sentimental allure of the other; this has to do with point-of-view, how he saw himself as he dispersed of his duties. His spatial awareness creates the album’s magnetism. On the party-starting ‘Keep on Rocking’, he immediately endears the women to ‘Catch a vibe and get the feeling/ Tell your man that you are willing,’ and later, in the first verse, uses a delirious-sounding register to depict drowsiness, applying imagery—point and kill, police protection—that captures the setting of a party.

His vision and his vocabulary are in alignment. Through his unique skills of narration, 2Baba can be at the party while being outside of it, presenting a bird’s eye view of the revelry. He does this elsewhere: ‘Ole (Thief)’ begins with a complaint to his guest freestyle asking him to help talk with 2Baba’s girl; ‘I need am,’ he says humorously, setting down the contrasting feelings—hurt and love, denial and acceptance—the song espouses. He knows when to be the narrator and when to be the character.

We reach the perfect culmination of this technique on ‘Thank U Lord’, the album closer, which 2Baba sings in a distant first-person point of view, emotionally charged but chronologically removed, as though the events he sings of are from another time, another 2Baba who’s not him. ‘I did a lot of things without remorse,’ he bemoans at some point, spurring the listener to picture the sad faces of those seated around him, the storyteller who seeks balance as he does so here, switching into positivity in the second verse, affirming that ‘It’s a crazy and beautiful world that we live in, there’s so much sorrow, joy and pain, but still got to thank you Lord…’