BONNIE

Bajii & Baddies

In pop culture, two of the most referenced women in music are Mona Lisa and Bonnie. The latter is disputable—in Nigeria, at least, where Caro, Amaka, Rihanna, and Chioma are frequently used—but not irrelevant. Mona Lisa is synonymous with beauty and grace, while Bonnie, over time, has transformed into shorthand for loyalty and outlaw. The former, Mona Lisa, however, peaked as a metaphor, at least in Afrobeats, when Lojay released a song titled after the Florentine royal. I can’t imagine any Nigerian artiste surpassing Lojay’s effort with that title and track just as I doubt any musician will be able to make a reference or title a song Ojuelegba that can rival what Wizkid did when he released that classic in 2014. 

Now, with his latest release, Bajii has done something similar with Bonnie. The song opens with a heavy chord and what I interpret as a rattle. Already, the song is warding off, while being hypnotic and luring us into its snare. When the vocals come in, it feels like you’ve been listening to the song on repeat for hours, even if it’s just the first time you’re hearing it. There’s a silkiness to it that doesn’t feel foreign like when you see the redline on a music video on YouTube and wonder when you listened to the song before. It’s deja vu—brand new but feels oddly familiar. Maybe what lends it this quality is the fact that it’s an Amapiano track. Although, from the onset, one can decipher that the song isn’t really trying to be amapiano or rap or afrobeat either. It contains elements of all three blended so seamlessly as to create a mocktail of sound that’s all-encompassing yet subversive like a portmanteau made from two other portmanteaus. Basically, Afro-fusion meets Amapiano. 

Recorded in February and released in July, this is the first track from Bajii after he took a break for 2 years and 8 months. It can be said that the break took him: on the Twitter Space hosted to promote the track, he confessed to being, “in a dark place”. Bonnie, the original story which is as dark as stories can get, is Bajii’s moonlight made from moonshine. He also said on the same Space that the track was an experiment for him. Listening to it you can feel the thumbtack that gives the notion that the music will act as a point of reference when Bajii’s entire discography unfolds. He’s singing from a very comfortable place like Olamide in Rock and Wizkid in Made In Lagos.

It’s a successful experiment: The track is mellow enough for you to have a conversation while it plays in the background of a joy ride and groovy enough to swap the convo for gyration instead. It’s best to listen to the song at night or in a dark room or in a club when everyone is faded.

The lyrics, if you pay attention to them, are clever, which is a genius slant because the vibes alone is enough to create a mood. The lyrics add texture and aren’t just there to accentuate the beat as is common in most Amapiano songs.

The song opens with the chorus: hold me for leg / say she no go let me go / artillery for waist / rocket fit fly / no go dey jonze / ‘cos my Bonnie go spray.

She holds him down even when life sends him to rock bottom. She keeps a uniform front. Basically, if you no know, you no know. 

The chorus is classic Bajii: the hums, the far back ad-libs where his voice cracks as he voices a riff towards the end of his mixed register without belting. Here, his control is immaculate as is his use of pidgin. He sounds so sure of himself, like he read the lyrics off a teleprompter in the studio while recording. You get the sense that is the song he wanted to make, not something he settled for. It is as intended.

The track starts off gun-blazing, which is easy to miss given the deceptively mellow tone the message is delivered in. This fictional Bonnie, just as the real one held on to Clyde, refuses to let Bajii go, but this doesn’t mean she’s helpless, if anything, her danger has found a manger. The last line in the chorus—Bonnie heart, 30 degrees below zero / but she gat mad love for me—is a common love trope of hating the world except the one they love. While the tracks is going on, the lyrics hold artillery, paints a portrait of an alté woman—no be sweetheart, leave her / my Bonnie mix juice and liquor / for her lip e be zoot / for the feet leather boot, no sneaker—whose loyalty, as this section of the first verse shows, is underscored by an carefreeness that’s probably part of her charm.

The producer did a clinical job. The sound is crisp. Nothing distracts. The song is easy to loop. It’s perfect as it is. Another bop from Bajii. 

10/10 across the board.