Explosion Of Arts At CIPCA Yaounde

Yesterday in Yaoundé, we didn't just end the Bruises National Tour. We detonated it.

The final challenge was insane: take our 90-minute sonic journey—every high, every low, every bruise and healing—and crush it into a furious, glorious 15 minutes. Our usual arsenal of sound was stripped away. No walls of synth, no thundering piano. Just the raw, beating heart of the band: an acoustic guitar, a single djembe, and our voices.

An uphill task? It was a cliff. And we had to fly.
That's when Ayeah Leonette's creative lightning struck. Her artistic vision became our map. She reshaped our anthems into intimate spells, transforming limitation into pure power.

And we didn't just play. We erupted.
Keshiel 695 was electric and spiritual, his fingers on the guitar weaving stories and lightning. Ayeah, the queen of the mic, poured her immense vocal density over the crowd—a force of nature in human form. Mag Bila official was impeccable, his hands on the djembe turning rhythm into a universal heartbeat.

And me Mottanni?  I channeled the ancestors. The words didn't just come; they flowed like a river in flood, leaving no soul in that crowd untouched.
We gave Yaoundé more than a summary. We gave them a foretaste, a concentrated blast of everything the Bruises Tour meant. And when the last note hung in the air, the entire city stood, breathless and amazed.

We faced the cliff. And we soared. The Bruises Tour is over. Long live the echo.