Today is King Sarkodie’s birthday; he affectionately calls himself King Sark, a Ghanaian rapper who has managed to climb up the slippery pit of hopelessness of his kind without the aid of any social ladder, but his own creative words.
Arguably, before the eruption of Sarkodie, Twi rap in Ghana was very much of a local delicacy, restrained by the border of language such that you would at the time hardly catch a “genuine alien” jamming to Twi rap—-except if that person was Yaa Broni.
Today, his creative excellence which lights itself with ease on a good beat has broken the artificial glass ceiling, making him a frontrunner in Ghana’s export of Twi rap to the world.
His lyrical dexterity and admirable diction cannot be undermined anytime he’s on a true Hip hop beat, a classic Hammer sort of beat.
To appreciate the beauty of Sark’s rap, I’ve always argued, you must focus on its many nuances.
He remains a living testimony of a giant jump from ‘grass to grace’, unaided by luck but hard work and a good understanding of the demands of the market.

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