When my daughter was 7, she tried to insult my girlfriend by taunting her with the following diss: Why is your waist so tiny and your butt so big?
My girlfriend attempted outrage, but her body betrayed her. My daughter had paid her a sacred compliment, and she spent weeks with her chin lifted, and a wide grin of comical proportions. The three of us even turned the diss into a little jingle we sang:
she’s got a tiny waist with a big butt.”
Yes, I’m aware how problematic this is, but my girlfriend sent me this quote to fortify our moral flexibility.
– Fleabag
A month later, I was in Lagos for work, helping run a workshop with young mentors. Lagos has incredible music, and my theory is that it is directly linked to the traffic. Every morning, I spent 2 hours traveling no more than 10km, listening to the local news but mostly loud music. Without amazing music, road rage would destroy the social fabric of the country.
By the end of the week, I was obsessing over the catchy hooks and upbeat rhythms. During the closing ceremony of my workshop, two young mentors, who had been engaged but quiet, showed up with speakers and mics and turned the dusty community hall into an arena, performing as Flowsy and Exclusive. The names stuck as they started each song using the third person, hyping each other: This is your boy, Flowsy and his main man, Exclusiveeeeee. You said it, Flowsy. Exclusive is here to make you dance. Exclusive and Flowsy on the mics. The hall was a vibration of energy, talent, movement, balloons, and plastic chairs.
Flowsy performing at the closing ceremony.
Exclusive and the audience.
I was blown away by the two of them and approached them after the workshop. I told them I had a hook and needed two MCs to write, perform, and produce it. Exclusive and Flowsy produced Tiny Waist, Big Bacca (pidgin for butt).