In the kingdom of rap, King P reigns supreme—a Congolese artist from Brazzaville who has honed his craft in Simou-Djoué, the United States, and Canada. What stands out about King is his ability to disrupt the tempo. He breaks it like free-jazz musicians do. It’s a breath of fresh air for hip hop. “You’re breaking new ground,” I told him. Indeed, his music video, “Miamona mbua,” has an iconoclastic edge that speaks volumes about his approach to boldness in life. It’s this disruptive quality that caught our attention as connoisseurs of unique music.
Like most geniuses, King struggles to gain mainstream recognition. This has less to do with his musical structure and more with his release strategy. In YouTube’s crowded music landscape, it’s hard to stand out even when talent and quality are undeniable. Without a patron, there’s no platform.
“From now on, you’ll be seen,” I promised him.
To put it mildly, “Miamona mbua” (the video’s title) has bite. Not just for its sharp edge, but also because it barks its bitterness at his opponents (the “contre moléma”) whom he commends to God for having thrown him, the King, to the…dogs. Thankfully, God himself has the king under divine protection, like most followers of the Muse. “Mé wa sémo,” he points out to the non-believers who wander through the kingdom of sin, bordering the realm of good.
A Dog’s Temperament
“Mia mona mbua” is a web of commands and warnings that, while clearly targeting society, doesn’t hide a failed act—as artists, masters of indirect expression, often do, especially in our countries where one must constantly navigate censorship to avoid trouble. Coming from a radical critic (which is the rapper/slam poet’s role), it’s all too obvious that the King’s canine-themed lyrics target the oppressors. Follow our gaze.
We Are All Burkinabé
There was a time, indeed, when despite the blows, the wretched of the earth suppressed their anger. Now the era of silence is over. The release is total, as in Burkina Faso where, although the agents of change were caught by the “crouching dogs of imperialism” for resting on their laurels, the short-lived putschists will soon be put in their place.
Consequently, the Congolese people are demanding their freedom.
A Stray Dog Without a Collar
“Miamona mbua mia sukina ku ntima”: deprived of speech, the anger of the mutt, a domestic animal, is limited to barks, despite the blows dealt by the master who happily hides behind the saying “the dog barks, the caravan moves on.”