A review of Faith Moyosore’s ‘Blue Hour Notes’ spoken word poetry EP by Adeola Juwon.
THE hallmark of a coherent body of work is its fluidity, how each line comes from a place of deep thoughtfulness. If you are a fan of evocative poetry that speaks straight to the soul and is relatable, yet still uses the necessary literary devices, you will find Faith Moyosore Agboola’s EP jarring in a good way.
The tone of the album comes across as sober at first, but Moyosore’s words are wholesome, carefully picked and sharpened. She brilliantly weaves together metaphors, rhymes and imagery, with the finesse of a veteran. Moyosore’s impressive skill showcased in Blue Hour Notes is a testament to years of dedicated honing on prestigious stages. Her poetic journey has unfolded on some of the most prominent platforms in the poetry scene, including the Ake Arts and Books Festival, the Lagos International Poetry Festival, engagements with the Netherlands Embassy, performances commissioned by the British High Commission, and the privilege of sharing her work on two continents. Moyosore’s extensive experience is palpable in the refined artistry and emotive depth of her debut EP.
The first poem, Crazy, chronicles how an active mind can be used against its owner by a manipulative partner. Off the bat, she begins,
“Crazy was the name he gave me, every time we had an argument that caught him in the middle of his lies.”
This line is contextualised as the track commences with a conversation between a couple, revealing the insidious dynamics of manipulation. What sets “Crazy” apart from a lot of other poems which explore the same theme is its refusal to end in defeat. Moyosore reflects on manipulative people:
“They stab you but say that you held their hands and led the spear right through you / They shower you with verbal hate but say that your body is a magnet for pain…”
If you thought Crazy was intense, brace yourself for Move On the second poem, a poignant unraveling of timeless maternal wisdom. She writes:
“My mum says that when wounds are hurting periodically, you are on the path to healing.”
Moyosore challenges this conventional wisdom with introspective questions, creating a plea for understanding the painful heartbreak journey associated with a break-up. Lines with powerful metaphors like,
“How you walk away knowing that you loved them enough to move mountains for them but realize the only mountain they wanted to move was you,” linger, invoking a profound emotional response. Listeners will take a pause here to take it in. Every line has pain etched in it, in every timbre and the rise of her voice is sad but powerful. It is delivered so movingly, that it feels personal.
This tone segues into Little Girl – a nostalgic reflection on growing up and going through the phases. Moyosore addresses the trauma inflicted on women from a young age and how that impacts the journey of their lives.
“She was told… that the melanin in her skin is oversupplied, there is no demand for women that look like her.”
Yet, amidst the gloom, Moyosore imparts wisdom:
“.a scared little girl who did not realize that she was already seen and men are not magnifying glasses.”
The piece is replete with rhymes and rhythms, ending with a powerful affirmation of worthiness. Little Girl is a very enjoyable poem, one that both critics and non-literary fans will love.
In Japa, she takes a slightly different turn. An afrobeats production gives the poem an upbeat persona which is fitting for its content. Here Moyosore uses imagery, metaphors, wordplay and a satirical voice to chronicle the challenges of her home country, Nigeria and the rising trend of mass relocation. Her opening line is sublime –
“My country is forcing its people to rewrite their dreams,
to fold their purpose and tuck it into travelling bags..”
She sums up the Japa wave in Nigeria with these lines. If she started on a personal note, it is clear now that she is dealing with issues beyond herself. Her poignant lines resonate with the struggles of a nation in crisis, extending a narrative that reaches beyond personal experiences to encapsulate the collective yearning for hope.
In JagunJagun, Faith Moyosore preaches caution for those healing from trauma. It is a very indigenous poem and this is evident in both the creative use of the Yoruba language and its rhythmic traditional beat.Jagun Jagun opens up with a Yoruba proverb voiced in a way that feels almost cinematic.
Mọ̀jà, mọ̀sá, nitiakínkanjú;
akínkanjútóbámọ̀ọ́ jà
tíkòmọ̀ọ́ sá á báogunlọ
This is a tale of those who must acknowledge their battles and see that they are not just battles, they are also lessons. JagunJagun is a call to introspection, that we must all look within to improve in our relationships.
Homeless is one of the most intense poems in the project, Moyosore utilizes literary devices with unmatched creativity. She addresses depression through war elements with lyrics like:
“on most days,
I am a soldier without a nationality,
not fighting for the world, not fighting for myself,
but just fighting to survive my own head.”
Moyosore’s voice in this track rises and falls brilliantly. Her skill as a performance poet shines all through this album and peaks here, in the most intense poem of all. The background vocals add to the mood and it is one poem that will tug at your heartstrings and never leave. By the last line, you feel it: the pain, the hurt, the intensity and you will understand why the album is titled Blue Hour Notes.
‘Blue Hour Notes’ gives everything it is supposed to – offering a cathartic baptism into Moyosore’s world. As she immerses herself in her verses, she invites the listener to find their voice and heal. Faith Moyosore Agboola’s debut is nothing short of a triumph, solidifying its place as one of the most powerful African spoken word poetry projects.
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