On one groovy Friday afternoon, I found myself gyrating to a song being played on the music channel I was watching. I enjoyed this song so much that I listened till the end, checked the title and artist who sang it and downloaded the song immediately.
Normally, I do listen to a relatable part of an unknown song I enjoyed to search and download online. This time it was different because I was listening to a song I could barely understand. All I could hear from the chorus was "Kweku Frimpong a sie me bo," which definitely has no serious meaning, at least, to me. After much searching I eventually got the song online, it was Second Sermon by Black Sherif featuring Burna Boy.
For days, I listened to this captivating song. Black Sherif is a trap singer who rhymes in his native Ghanaian tongue which I do not understand, but this only makes the song even more captivating. After listening tirelessly to this song at some point I asked myself, does lyrics really matter? Here I am going mad listening to a song that I barely understand what is being said, but the joy and passion with which I rhyme nonsensically along is indescribable.
Music is infectious. I've found myself listening religiously to songs I had no clue what was being said in it before, so this isn't my first. I listened to Enya, who sang a lot of her songs in her native Irish tongue. I listened to a lot of Spanish songs. As a lover of local hardcore rap, I've listened to a lot of Sarkodie and Phyno despite having basically no clue of what they're saying.
The joy of music is that it transcends language, dialect and tongue. It breaks down those barriers without you even knowing it. I found joy listening to Fally Ipupa sing in his rough French dialect, and I barely speak or understand French.
So next time a song is being played and you find your instinct aligning with it, listen and enjoy. The language doesn't really matter. The most important thing is the way the song makes you feel.