Kelvyn Boy #YawaNoDey – REVIEW

On October 15, 2019, Kelvyn Boy posted a video of himself singing an unreleased song. It was title-less. He teased the over one hundred and forty thousand people on...

On October 15, 2019, Kelvyn Boy posted a video of himself singing an unreleased song. It was title-less. He teased the over one hundred and forty thousand people on his Facebook page, asking whether he should release it. The response was an emphatic ‘Yes!’

He has. November 22, 2019.

The now-titled Yawa No Dey is a beautiful tribute to Slim Young’s ( Siaw Akyemfo) W’ayɛ a Fɛre of 1994, off the Ɔdɔ Ankasa CD, Compilation (Label: Agya Pa Yɛ Music).

Yawa No Dey is evocative nostalgia, and for the many 90s, post-2000 babies yet to realize why the song ticks all the boxes for them, they may be reliving a 25-year-old piece of Highlife work that has been repackaged in a livelier manner to ooze instantaneous fondness.

The sound is a delectable tapestry of bare-notes that flows in between time just to deliver a finished two-and-half-decade product, with an originality that is not only correct but a statement of credit to a young man apparently indebted to industry big-boy nonsense, and often tagged copycat. For most part of the year, he had to respond to questions of perceived ingratitude. Whatever that means. It has become a tiring, weak, panty-less sport of name-calling wrestling that has little flesh and blood to its limbs.

Yawa No Dey is beauty through and through, does not wane and glides through a rude awakening that is kingly and elegant; the knots he offers are beautiful innuendos aided in part by a God Mc who manifested it in broad daylight. Without apology.

M.anifest’s verse is Psalm 118:22 refined for a call to duty that is supposed to be raw and direct. It takes the song from when it was just all about a dreadlocked bandsman fidgeting with singing and finishes it off with the kind of friendly fire that lingers in your mind forever. The bars are handy lines of brutish admonishing and letting crumbs fall where they should. It opens up a candid conversation about jungle warfare and allowing people to thrive, the underlining tone of the uncanny and less-witty war on a young man who just wants to have a trade and eat from his labour. Just like the lions at the top.

The whole M.anifest verse is Take 1 properly done and eloquently dished out. From start to finish, it is unforgiving and lashes out at pretentious arrowheads who have grown into fan-fested gods. Expectedly, and staying with the theme, it has blood all over, killing and milking thuggery folly dry. There are too many guesses that eventually result in clever jabs to satisfy a constituency which feeds off daily EFC/UFC-like beef (or mutton if you may). They got served this time, too; it has since landed into the waiting arms of conspiracy theorists and keyboard heads spoiling for a fight, the typical ones on Twitter, Nungua Kelly Rowland, Kaneshie Bruce Lee, Awoshie Maroon 5 et al.

Kelvyn Boy

While the confrontation expressly plays out as frank and honest, it is made mild by the repeated meek and gentle hooks; yet intimate to let you in on a restraint that is tastefully intrusive.

The singing Kelvyn Boy has exhibited over the last few years that he’s been around – properly – is a script with meticulous handling that is bold and graceful. There are pieces jaded in nature but that which leans toward synths that do not falter. Whether aided by auto-tuning or largely a representation of his own vocal depth, there is enough balm to smear.

Yawa No Dey is a pill for forced submissiveness. It is liberation for an artiste whose value has been understated too many times that he’s had to often speak of how good he is. And, yes, of course, he is good; Mea, the 2019 release heavily rotated and a concert-favourite, is full proof. The song’s beauty lies in the many scopes of cinematic pop work that connect to tempos of pre-recording studio syllabus.

Less-chanty, Kelvyn Boy’s singing has a reputation for being good music expressed by tingling ballad and silent drum kicks that put broken tissues back in shape. The goosebumps are endless fragments of littered notes of love and sometimes miserable romance. At the same time.

When singing, the swooning he exhibits is calm and to-be-yearned-for. As a regular theme – and which Yawa No Dey stays true to – the song-writing is not bulky or an ego-possessed man in a hurry to announce himself as a deity. But while he doesn’t claim to be God, he almost perfects the gift of carrying you along with the kind of expression that has so many layers of artistic scaffolding. And where he falters, he proves himself – again – too strong to stage comebacks with rich-stock precision-singing

It isn’t difficult to spot that Yawa No Dey is touché well done.

Here for the music. Here for #Anada 40. Lailai.

Slim Young – A Timeline
A Composer, arranger and guitarist.
Founded the Sipisita group.
A one-time leader of the Black Berrets Dance Band.

Other LPs
Medɔto Bra ntem (1983)
Mafisɛm (1984). Had the hit track Obi yɛ nadea yɛ komm
BISA (1987)

He passed away in Vienna, Austria on November 16, 2001.

Obed Boafo is the Founding Editor/Publisher of In 2012, he started what has now become Ghana's best essential arts and entertainment briefing.