Tusker All-Stars started this Sunday with singers from previous series of Project Fame back to the stage to sing, attempt to sing, or fail to sing depending on whether or not it is Ng’ang’alito.
It makes you think about the amount of abuse the word “Star” has taken. Banange. Even Ng’ang’a? This man is so bad to music that if he is a star, he is the death star.
For those of you just joining us, this is the Death Star.
Or he is a star in the sense of “chocolate starfish” (If you are saved, or below the age of 18, don’t hit the second link)
In the current season, the competitors are Hemedi, Patricia, Caroline, Msechu previous winners Alpha and Davis, and the the bane of cochleas everywhere, this Ng’ang’a piece of shit.
Hemedi, who, in addition to some kilos, has also gained the capacity to sing, so the show did not begin with me throwing shoes at the 31-inch LG Flatron TV I only recently purchased and cannot afford to destroy so soon. I don’t remember the song he sang, but I did notice, how could I not, that he came onto the stage holding a little lady umbrella.
This time the show has no judges. Instead we have a pair of animated Kenyans who host Gaetano cuts to after every performance, called “the superfans”. They make remarks about the performances. One of them, speaking of the Umbrella, cheered, “It’s called Swagger!!” with exclamation marks.
It’s also called “gay”, but that’s no longer important. The pre-host, Eve, who speaks to the contestants before sending them to Gaetano on stage, was introducing Patricia.
She has become very evil-looking lately, and by lately, “lately” meaning since she left the Tusker make-up person’s chair. Hair done like a Disney witch, black eyeshadow, she can’t help the teeth, of course, but the whole thing made me think that after the show she was going out to kidnap dalmatians.
Carolina. Eh Carolina. Amaalo tegakugwanga mu? I loved this chick so much the first time, with her mooling. Chick was so local. She is more Kalolayina than Carolina.
Eve cooed a bit about Kalolayina’s outfit. When she decided to mention Kalo’s famous swivelly dance moves, she said, “Can we, and by ‘we’ I mean all the men, handle it?”
I cancelled out that part of my notes. Make it “He decided to metion Kalo’s famous etc”
Kalo rocked the stage. I swear, she is so deliciously local. It’s like watching an URTNA video. But it just makes her more adorable. It’s sassy, even though it is the 1970s version of sassy.
It became apparent what the Superfans’ job was: Instead of the judges’ criticism, we have a pair of bobbleheads who will pretend your umbrellas are swagger and coo with delight no matter who you are or what you do. It’s unnerving, especially when the next person up was…
…Ng’ang’a. The man responsible for blocked septic tanks all over East Africa. Yes, it was on the agenda at the joint conference of EA Water & Sewerage Corps the other year. When Ng’ang’a sings, the volume of puke introduced into urban sewage systems spikes dramatically and in less-developed areas this leads to blockage. I can even give you the link. Here.
Eve introducing Ng’ang’a, this is what he had to say. “No one was prepared for the amount of talent Ng’ang’alito was about to display.”
Heh. Eve, I see what you did there. Eve is one sarcastic dude.
So Ng’ang’a came on and sucked, I emptied my supper into a bucket, and somewhere in the US, John Legend sent a text to his lawyer with instructions on who inherits his estate, downed a bottle of tablets and then slit his own throat.
Who is Amelina? I swear I don’t remember Amelina.
Bar Ng’ang’a, the most local chaps were giving the best performances. Msechu sweated gallons, but he rocked the stage. Alpha, as we know, Alpha and English, bambi, but he came on to sing that Eric Wainaina song. You know the one. That one. Gaetano tried to introduce it but us Baganda boys some things are beyond us. Me I call it Gwe Twaleri. Davis arrived dressed like those bu-little dolls you find paddling little metal bikes on the ends of sticks. Davis is like Ng’ang’a but without the sucking-so-much-at-singing part. I mean, he dances, he jumps, he showboats, but he’s also good, so it’s fun.
Eve and his co-host Gaetano got together at the end to tell us that they wanted us to vote, and the Superfans began to gibber and gobble like a pair of turkeys. And then I came here to type this.