Why I hate HIFA

So last night the Mouse took me down to HIFA to see Jamaram, the white boys based in Germany who play a wicked funky reggae ska latin fusion.

They featured our own Mic Inity, who played his brand new single Freedom with them. The band is tight, their musicianship is professional and the tunes are heavy. So we rocked it up at the Main Stage till we couldn’t rock no more.

Then a couple of bastards called me up saying they were on the Green, so we sauntered over and found a cooler-box stuffed with Johnnie Red Label and all the trimmings. Shit.

So some rappers come on, started off a little wishy-washy but picked up as they went down the line. Seemed like a couple of them were just in it to hype themselves up rather than entertain me. Ho hum.

This Baba Shupi guy (who seems to be everywhere these days) came on, did a few choruses, blah blah. Was starting to fade at this point, and was definitely on my last glass of Red and Tonic.

Or so I thought.

The band House of Stone came on, did their reggae thing, yeah yeah, and just as I thought “Screw you guys, I’m going home”, some guy named Dadza D jumped onto the stage. And fecked it up for everybody else.

This guy was all over the place, chanting, singing, dancing, jumping, leaping around like he was high on that weed.

Eh? Oh.

I’ve never seen this kid in action, only heard his name in passing actually, but this is something you have to see for yourself. He. Is. Awesome.

Tell you what, if Winky D and King Shaddy don’t step up their game, and this Dadza D guy gets a couple of hot tracks and some airplay, he’ll wipe them off the map. He’s that good.

Then Didier Awadi came on, the Senegalese rapper. His band is hot, and the dude’s got mad skills. But at this point I was rogered.

So the Mouse and I went home, and left the two bastards on the Green.

And I went to bed at 0200 hrs. On a school night.

And now I’m at work, feeling like hammered shit.

feck you, HIFA. See you tonight.