Raving My Hypocrisy Away

Raving My Hypocrisy Away

Rema O2 Concert Review

How often in life do we get to say that we get to see the birth of a rockstar? Going from watching an artist’s car freestyle videos on Twitter to joining a crowd of nearly 20,0000 growl and scream their most experimental song.

I’m so grateful for Rema’s strictness in time because after deciding to be two hours early so we could secure our view, my friends and I were on the brink of passing out by the time 8pm rolled around.

We were desperate for the energy boost his arrival would provide, and watching the openers begin at a prompt (for Nigerians) 8:30pm was enough to keep us going.

However, it was clear that the opening acts Deto Black, Len and Blnde were slight afterthoughts because the bad sound meant we could barely hear them and it seemed like they struggled to navigate the concealed set for Rema’s performance.

Blnde rose to the occasion and did not let these structural issues stop her from putting on a good show, so by the time her five minutes were up, we had definitely gotten some of the pep back in our step for Rema.

We placed our bets on what he would open with, and when March Am started, I was very pleased to have guessed correctly.

His rise from the platform on his knees, sword in hand, clad in all black leather, felt truly reminiscent of what the HEIS era gave us; it was simultaneously a rebirth and a return to self.

When I saw his Lagos concert in December, one of my primary criticisms was how disjointed the set list felt, and I was so happy to see that corrected with the London show; every song and transition felt carefully thought out and perfectly mapped his journey as an artist.

His affirmation of party anthems like Azaman and Yayo as true to the feral energy characteristic of HEIS showed how intentional he was in curating an energy for the album that beautifully translated to a live performance.

It also made for a perfect transition to Holiday, giving us the opportunity to reflect on this legacy he had created in such a short space of time.

When he fell to his knees to repeat the refrain “I will never forget the time wey bad belle dem cast us away, fast forward to today, everyday na holiday”, the entire audience reflected on the musical resilience he has shown in continuing to colour outside the lines.

A consistent narrative in Rema’s music has been the challenges he’s faced in carving his own path in the Nigerian afrobeats scene while fielding naysayers, and he said himself that this O2 performance was a retort to those doubters. “Tonight, they will see what we’re trying to do,” he proclaimed to the adoring crowd.

Shortly after Holiday we were gifted with a “Kiss Cam” interlude with his more sensual songs like Dirty and Hold Me playing in the background as they spotlighted various couples making out.

This was such fun and creative way to keep the crowd engaged while Rema was off the stage, and I was disappointed at the darkness and silence we endured for subsequent interludes.

That creativity should have been continuously reproduced, taking an entertaining spin on the songs in his discography we wouldn’t hear live that evening.

He welcomed us back from the break with a guest appearance from Darkoo alongside a performance of Favourite Girl. This moment really made apparent the stark difference in quality between the Lagos and London shows, because Darkoo’s appearance felt like a true highlight of that performance and was just one of many special moments for this one.

Red Potion came shortly after andall of us Ravage fans absolutely lost it when he created an excellent call and response in his usual charismatic fashion by asking the crowd to tell him what we need and us screaming “I need your love” back to him enthusiastically.

The other guest appearances were sprinkled in from this point of the show, starting with Buju, then Jhus and finally D’Banj. I was so devastated hearing the intro of Oliver Twist and remembering the genuine horror of finding out yet another childhood icon was a rapist.

D’Banj’s inclusion deflated the high I’d been on for the entirety of the show and confronted me with the reality that Nigerians have short-term memory and deplatforming abusers is unfortunately not high up on most people’s priority lists.

I stood stone-faced for the entirety of his performance, but I unfortunately wasn’t principled enough to walk away or leave. I still feel disappointed in myself for regaining my energy for the final songs, prioritising screaming the lyrics of Ozeba over honouring D’Banj’s survivor.

It’s hard to fully condemn Rema for including D’Banj when I was complacent by staying. My frustration was muddled with my awe at the world he had created and my desire not to miss a moment of it, and that’s a pitiful excuse to offer.

One of the things I admire most about Rema is his unapologetic innovation through the lens of his Nigerianness, and unfortunately, it seems like our culture of failing to consistently hold abusers accountable is not exempt from that.

The D-Tour is my weekly review column for my in-person experiences with the arts and nightlife. It’s posted (almost) every Tuesday and you can subscribe to get it straight into your inbox.

My name is Damisola Sulaiman and I’m a Nigerian, London-based culture journalist with a dedicated interest in the arts, nightlife and socio-political commentary. You can read more of my work here.