Qulture Magazine

Words: Scooter Crick

I was uncertain of what to expect. Pop-folk is not my usual genre. Part of me had terrible visions of self-important wailing or, worse, something just dreadfully boring. At 7:30 the tone was set with the opener ‘The Man The Myth The Meatslab’, arriving alone on stage. The British artist has an overwhelming sense of humility and friendliness, which radiated throughout the audience.

I felt my fear begin to dissipate. His music was beautiful and introspective, often using huge, sublime ideas to reflect his own comparably small fears and desires. Admitting that this was his biggest gig yet, The Meatslab (if I can call him that) had remarkable control over the audience, getting us to sing along to certain parts of his performance. He very effectively set the kind, gentle feeling that would permeate throughout the show.

Next up, was musician ‘Tommy WÁ’, who immediately received a hollered “we love you” as he came on stage, which he hollered back in kind.  I quietened the voices of cynicism as Tomma introduced himself. Born in Nigeria but having lived in Ghana most of his life, in his own words he is a “proper West African boy” and describes his music as “African Folk”.  Tommy WÁ had a bright, friendly charisma that was very engaging. Both opening artists gave a small introduction between each song which added to the storytelling nature of the songs themselves. This isn’t unheard of in other genres, but it interested me because of the more stripped back nature of the music which perhaps relies more on the connection to the audience and the weaving of the stories between the songs. Either way, I was by now enjoying it very much and feeling as if I was understanding pop-folk a little more. Tomma Wa’s stories were of his home, his family and particularly God, with a definite gospel influence in his sound.

There were moments where the Venue almost transformed into a church, he managed to get us all to sing ‘Hallelujah’ in one of the more memorable moments of his set. Tomma built a good atmosphere with soulful, impassioned vocals and playing both electric and acoustic guitar. He left us with many thank-you’s and the phrase (first in Yoruba, then in English) “God loves when you’re dancing, we should dance some more’.

At last, Mon Rovîa, the main attraction, arrived on stage, with a full band too! The crowd was even more ecstatic than for Tomma Wa, practically humming with excitement. Personally, when I saw he was holding a ukulele my apprehensions from earlier in the evening did re-arise momentarily. Foolishly, despite how amazing the first two acts were, I was still unsure I could stomach the mellow sweetness of the music and, in the first song, the rather vague imagery of his lyrics.

However, once that was done, he began to speak.  With an incredibly earnest and lovely manner, he introduced himself and his band, and started his story. Whereas the other two artists had attached small anecdotes or pockets of their life to each song, Mon Rovîa managed to skillfully string a continuous narrative that was equally strong in both its musical content and story. He talked of his first home in Liberia, and his second home in the United States following his adoption. As each song passed and he described more of the civil wars that tore his world apart, and how he had worked through complex emotions and relationships. His bold vulnerability allowed everyone in the room to be just as vulnerable, in a way I can only describe as therapeutic. It was undeniably powerful. Music I had initially dismissed as being tepid, I now saw was soothing and healing. Contextualising this performance in the rife hatred and evil of our current world, to see someone encourage the room to meet each struggle with love, and to do so openly and without any hint of a facade, was refreshing and inspiring. 

At the end of his set, he brought on the two opening acts and they performed together, feeling rather like the big musical number at the end of a Disney Pixar movie (and to be honest, I love Pixar movies). Mon Rovîa had proven he is certainly an artist to pay attention to. My cynicism had been conquered, the room was lifted and everyone left the venue feeling better and more whole than when they had arrived.