THE MUSIC VIDEO ORIGINS OF WANLOV THE KUBOLOR
Wanlov the Kubolor is a vagabond. A disruptive force in the Ghanaian Afro-pop scene through his tongue-in-cheek lyrics and provocative music videos. The Ghanaian-Romanian musician, filmmaker, cultural icon and social commentator does not “make music videos that fade[s] away”. And he has produced several iconic music videos such as ‘My Toto’ and ‘Coz of Moni’, which expose the contradictions of hypersexuality, Ghana’s treatment of the LGBTQ+ community, as well as speaking to the legacies of colonialism.
For the Kubolor, representation in music videos “re-centres people”. In pushing for fluidity of concepts such as gender and sexual liberation in his music videos, he is fully aware that this makes people uncomfortable. But it is also necessary in order to fully capture the essence of his lyrics. The music video as an art form plays a significant role in our consumption of music and appreciation of culture. This ability to reach an audience of potentially millions of subscribers means that the purpose of the music video becomes more complex. For example, Childish Gambino’s ‘This Is America’ music video elevated the power of his lyrics through the symbolism and metaphors captured within. The impact of this video was wide as it was discussed on national television, shared and debated among friends, families and colleagues.
With platforms such as YouTube and Vevo, the visual impact of music videos cannot be underestimated as it is widely accessible to an international community.
In contemporary pop culture, the music video plays an important role in either conveying the heart of the song, communicating a social or political message or simply to entertain. But for the Kubolor, his music videos capture the essence of the marginalised every day. He says, “Our lives are fantastic enough. People are trying to make it beautiful, but we should focus on what it is.” He describes a time when taking a break from recording a song in the studio, that he got inspiration for its music video. He saw a man walking down a busy street slowly and unbothered whilst passing a variety of people such as coconut sellers. So, he got out his iPhone 8 and began walking and recording this man, seeing this street and the various interactions from his point of view. This visual image, combined with the lyrics enables him to stay grounded in his audience’s reality.
As a filmmaker, he invokes intimate realism in his films and music videos. Even without a not-so modest budget, he prefers working with down to earth imagery that is easily understood and recognised. For example, the music video for ‘My Toto’ (Twi for vagina) has three women sitting on a table in the middle of the desert. One sings the song, visibly in pain but calm and composed nonetheless, another playing the guitar and the other singing the riffs of the song. The video cuts between these 3 women and the Kubolor on the same table but as a vixen. He is dancing suggestively on the table, often provocatively touching his private parts, lifting weights and wearing shorts and a yellow builder’s helmet. When watching the video, your first instinct is to laugh. Yet, the lyrics of the song is a light-hearted nod at the pervasiveness of sexual violence and reflects the sexist dialogue among men in presenting women as ‘conquest’ to feed their machoism and ego.
In portraying sex from a woman’s perspective, he is imploring his audience to evaluate their experiences and attitudes to heteronormative sex and consider its potential damage to women.
As a pan sexual man, his identity breaks the binaries of heteronormative sexual behaviour. So it is shocking to discover that “a decade ago, [he] was homophobic.” The process of unlearning conformity and rediscovering that the aspects of his childhood that made him most comfortable was genderless was difficult and involved many conversations with friends. As a child, he did not like wearing shoes and now associates the feel of the terrain with powerful visual memories. His personal fashion style – wearing wrappers, instead of trousers serves as both a protest against heteronormativity in fashion as well as a representation of his true identity. Being labelled a ‘vagabond’ and a ‘truant’ does not bother him as this disruption is crucial, and an important form of social dialogue.
Representing members of the LGBT+ community in his music videos is a default because “people need encouragement to be who they truly are”.
Another thing he highlights is the legacies of colonialism in producing and reproducing societal discrimination against marginalised communities. “We are all colonial products, and we speak a language that has taught us to hate ourselves.” The imposition of American cultural products diffusing into the Ghanaian cultural landscape, much like the English language, has created a warped syntax that does not accurately portray the unique social, political and economic conditions of the contemporary Ghanaian. That is why he makes music videos that are visually striking in order to communicate these concepts. For example, in an upcoming music video, he films three Black children playing with a white doll. In that scene, we can initially only see the back of their heads but can clearly see the white dolls that they are playing with, then they turn around to face the camera and their eyes turn blue, almost horror-like.
Within Afro-pop, music videos like this are rare. The genre is built on the blending of elements from Western Hip-hop, Jazz, Salsa and various traditional African music. In addition to that, it builds on the foundation of Afrobeats, pioneered by musicians such as Fela Kuti in the 1970s, who used his music to criticise the Nigerian military dictatorship. Continuing the conversation about the legacies of British colonialism on the Ghanaian music scene, he states, “Ghanaians are traumatised. We were taught to either commodify ourselves or die. We used to sell out to survive, and now we do it for a living”. He claims that this has made artists and Ghanaians alike more materialistic and less spiritual. But by centring and representing a plethora of diverse identities in his music videos, he hopes to begin to revolutionise the industry to be more inclusive and lead society in becoming more just and equitable.
The commodification of Afro-pop transcends beyond Ghana and West Africa. Speaking on Beyoncé’s ‘Black is King’, he does not believe in showing a mystical tradition of African royalty that does not exist currently. “Why are we so fascinated with Kings and Queens and not the coconut seller in Makola market?” For him, realism is important in his music videos, because the everyday experiences are worth documenting. These images appreciate the lived realities of Ghanaians that can be both magical and violent. Similar to Fela Kuti, creating socially conscious music meant engaging familiar elements such as Pidgin English, and subverting popular colonial images to communicate unfair post-colonial power dynamics.
Representation matters. Especially in the music video. Visionary filmmakers such as Wanlov the Kubolor understand this and actively incorporate this into their art. Culturally, this helps to change attitudes and normalise difference in Ghanaian society. Being a provocateur means to continuously push the boundaries of visual comfort to generate dialogue and acceptance. Visual expression along with powerful lyrics can be the call to action that is needed. In his 2017 song, ‘Colony Cleanse’, he calls for further education about the pitfalls of US and Chinese neo-colonialism and capitalism in order for the “constipated” mind to have a “colonial cleanse”.
The Kubolor takes his audience on that journey, not preaching down or being paternalistic, but raising awareness of the process of unlearning, its discomfort, and the liberation that comes along with it. A significant amount of his music and videos are informed by the discovery of his personal politics and identity. This is what makes his work popular and iconic. Yet he does not do this alone. Working with about 20 young and up-and-coming artists that share his similar social activism vision, he is empowering a village to follow in his footsteps in challenging the capitalist foundations of the Afro-pop industry, its rampant materialism and hyper-sexualisation of women.
Freedom and Justice for all. This is what the Kubolor wants to achieve through his music videos. But this must disrupt the status quo and build a revolution from the ground up. Representation in film affects how we see and treat ourselves and those around us. It can help be kinder to ourselves, to understand the violence of discrimination and to empower us to make socially conscious decisions that will eventually break down the binaries that impose conformity on marginalised groups.
By Eileen Gbagbo
