You will like this song, if the servings of suave dancehall and ragga are your spiced cuppa. It features Peter Miles, a maestro when it comes to these things, in his full element, effortlessly stretching his versatility across the fader, in voice, vocals, style and use of language. It is such a breather that Peter Miles is not uncomfortable doing his ragamuffin do in English. He switches from Luganda to the pidgin version of English that rules in Ragga, seamlessly. You would not say that of every artiste in this genre, in Uganda.
He will sing in Luganda, and at that moment, he will sound exactly like the ghetto, street-battle-hardened, semi-literate artistes with local downtown swag. Then he switches to English and he sounds like the hip, urbane contemporary dude with class and style to boot. In the end, Peter Miles is accessible, both in the Kamwokya ghettos and in the upscale nightclub in Industrial Area.
The song itself is a made-for-the-dance-floor song heavy on thump and oomph, setting the tune for the party night. He sings about fighting on the frontline, as if telling us that after all these years, he still has so much fight in him, he is not signing out yet. And that would not be a bad idea after all, for the fellow who finds his music, their cup of tea.
