I first became aware of Saint Janet’s music in 2010, but it was not until 2012 that I properly began to study it. “American Swagger”, her monster hit, was my introduction to Mama Yabis. I became a fan, listening to her from time to time and occasionally watching her interviews.
In the 2010s, Saint Janet emerged as a formidable force in her own right. She ventured into a musical terrain dominated by men and made a name for herself. Had she emerged in the 1980s or 1990s, she might have been the female counterpart to Obesere or Lateef Ilori, the Fuji musician popularly known as Shaaje. In a country that hardly gives people their flowers, Saint Janet made her mark, largely through her live performances. Her music is best enjoyed with plenty of green bottles and bowls of ori oke pepper soup.
For close to two decades, Saint Janet made a habit of turning gospel songs into lewd, vulgar performances. Juju music remained her favourite territory, with the guitar strings and backing singers egging her on. There was something distinctive about this combination: familiar melodies, cheeky lyrics and a performer who understood how far she could push a song without losing her audience.
On “American Swagger”, which runs for less than fifteen minutes, Saint Janet works her way through a collection of familiar songs. The opening three minutes are devoted to self-praise. She warns impostors while asking the Almighty to support her quest for a good life. She is asserting her place, making it clear that she has no intention of being mistaken for anyone else. The confidence is part of the appeal.
Roy Chicago’s “Onile Gogoro” and Victor Olaiya’s “Ilu Le”, both songs from the 1960s, are interpolated and subsequently reworked in her own style. She also draws on Fatai Rolling Dollar’s call for listeners to give it to her, weaving references to popular cities into the performance. These familiar melodies give the song an added dimension. Saint Janet is not simply performing; she is drawing from a musical memory her audience can recognise, then making those songs serve her own purposes.
The guitar work and restrained drumming are well assembled. The arrangement gives her room to perform without overwhelming her voice, while the backing singers help sustain the energy of the live recording. Nothing feels unnecessarily elaborate. The music moves at its own pace, allowing Saint Janet to play with the material and her audience. Before you realise it, the performance has reached its end.
Even when she addresses social issues such as bleaching and indecent dressing, Janet avoids becoming preachy. She makes her point and moves on. Her approach is not particularly subtle, but that is part of what makes the performance work. She is more interested in getting a reaction than delivering a sermon.
Beneath the humour and vulgarity, however, Saint Janet is telling her listeners something they might easily overlook. In the final two minutes, she declares that she has given her life to Christ, even as she calls for non-alcoholic Chelsea gin and beers. The contradiction is hard to miss. She captures the familiar experience of people who give their lives to Christ, promise to abandon their vices, and eventually return to their old ways. It is a simple observation, delivered without the solemnity such a subject might invite.
That tension is part of what makes “American Swagger” interesting. Saint Janet moves between religious declarations and worldly pleasures without pretending that the two sit comfortably together. Her performance leaves the listener to make sense of the contradiction. It is funny, certainly, but it is also recognisable.
Fifteen years after its release, American Swagger remains a useful introduction to Saint Janet’s musical personality. It captures her irreverence, her command of familiar melodies and her ability to move between social commentary and outright mischief. I was never the most devoted listener, but the record gave me a way into her music. In remembering Mama Yabis, I keep returning to the sound of that performance, with its guitar strings, backing singers and peculiar mix of prayer and indulgence.
Rest well, Mama Yabis.
WhatsApp
X
Facebook
LinkedIn
