Darey Conga’s Charming Drumming And Singing

By Michael Kolawole

Drums and other musical instruments like Sẹkẹrẹ (Beaded Gourd), maracas, and tambourine, flank Darey Conga. He sits low and locks a Djembe drum between his thighs, easing into a warm-up phrase, preparing to kick into a full-blown performance. Without breaking rhythm, he starts to synchronously play four other drums, three congas and a second Djembe, in front of him. Having displayed his drumming skills, he begins singing “Labẹ Igi Òrombó (Under The Orange Tree,” a Yorùbá folk song once common on playgrounds, before being replaced by phone and television.

After opening with an almost-forgotten folk song beloved by children, one would expect Darey to move towards modern cartoon songs that children, and perhaps, their parents are more familiar with. Instead, he moves deftly into another old children’s song, “Mami Wata Kekere Kan (A Little Mermaid)”. He smiles as he dexterously plays the Djembe between his thighs, occasionally striking the other four drums to colour the set.

“Alu Jon Jonki Jon,” the Yoruba folk song about famine and the crafty dog, which was once sung by the Afrobeat maestro Fela Kuti in 1973, shows that Darey doesn’t have any interest in playing modern songs peculiar to the young ones. He sings and plays the drums with the skill of the ancient village griot.

Darey briefly stops to take the Sẹkẹrẹ (Beaded Gourd). He dangles the Sẹkẹrẹ in his right hand and plays the Djembe drum with his left for a satisfactory period. Simultaneously playing the two instruments creates a polyrhythmic sound typical of the old Village Square where people gather to listen to Alọ (folktales, riddles, and stories). As the set closes, he fiercely beats the Djembe as though inviting the people to dance.

The songs selected by Darey move his set beyond a mere technical display, common among many percussionists and singers. His choice to avoid playing modern children’s songs to please the audience but to favour old, and almost-forgotten folksongs. It’s as though he is insinuating that these songs, no matter how old they are, must not be forgotten.

As a solo, unscripted performance, the set raises a question: what is the essence of a freestyle without audiences to evaluate the performance? Strip away the drumming and singing, and what remains is a show staged for no one. Darey’s virtuosity is no doubt impressive but virtuosity alone doesn’t make a freestyle meaningful. As an idea, a freestyle can’t do without an audience to decide its effectiveness. Without that, it looks more like practice than a performance, a griot rehearsing in solitude, honing his skills before delivering it to the people during the story night at the village square.