It was the coin that Dennis Banks dropped on a map of the world more than 12 years ago. Not so much the coin, really, but where it landed: on Bulgaria. And his new life began.

He came to Plovdiv in 1995 from Lagos, Nigeria, where he was born and had lived until then.

There was no premeditation about Bulgaria, no specific desire to come to this Balkan nation, Banks says. “I just wanted to travel abroad, a life adventure. I dropped a coin and it was Bulgaria – it could be fun.”

He found that it was fun, and stayed, though he cannot say exactly in what way the country snatched him with its unrelenting grasp. It’s still like this, now, even when he goes to England to visit family and friends and promote his music label – Accuse La Banks Records: he just wants to come back.

It’s worth mentioning that this label is Banks’ passion and subsistence: music has become the aural emanation of his soul.

He released his first album Loshi Novini (Bad News) in 1996, while living in Plovdiv. It earned respect as the first rap/reggae to be sung in Bulgarian by a black person.

“It was not easy for me to put this together, because singing in the Bulgarian language was not easy for me then; it would not have been possible if I had not had a background in music and the lyrics skills,” he says to The Sofia Echo in late August 2007. “Momiche Iskam Teb was the miracle song then.”

The hits Momiche Iskam Teb (Girl, I Want You), a reggae tune, and Golyama Doupka, Golyama Rabota (Big Ass, Big Deal), which has been remixed since, still ring a bell in the heads of the younger generation of Bulgarians.

His style has changed a bit, becoming what he calls more freestyle.

Promotion of his second album, Apache Papa 2.1 Part Scandal, recently kicked off with a release party at a Happy Bar & Grill location in Sofia. He is quick to explain that it’s 2.1 because a 2.2 is on the way: “In part two, the song Apache Papa – you’re going to hear it.”

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“For me, (Apache) is kind of like an (enunciation of) spiritual persistence and endurance and strength, a spirit to move on, a spirit of forgiveness; when I set my mind on doing something, it takes more than something to stop me. You really have to rip my heart out, which would take a serious fight,” Banks says. “Since I’ve been little, I’ve had a passion for the Apache. I used to watch movies... It’s like I’ve been there. I try to apply (their philosophy) to everyday life – struggling, resistance, you’re going to need to fight. When you get to a point to give up, you don’t.”

This trait of determination has manifested itself throughout his whole life. Back in Nigeria, he was serious about his studies, always prepared, reading when the other children were at play (and earning the moniker of “bookworm” in exchange), devouring science subjects like chemistry and physics and studying to be an accountant. “That was my first dream,” he says, “but music became a more powerful force in my brain. I needed to do something different; I just needed to have fun. In Nigeria, the educational system can be very, very tough.”

When he finished high school, he decided to change directions, and started going to clubs – it was from there that he learned music.

This self-motivation is seen today through – in addition to his label, which has branches both in Bulgaria and in England – teaching himself software programming and HTML. As he explains it, this comes from the need to record and produce everything independently.

“I have had to work my way from the ground up, from sitting down, and just imagining things in your head, and taking it to the master product. It requires some madness to achieve this. It gets to a point that it can just crack you up,” he says. “When I was working on this album, I was mixing for two days non-stop. This album is overdue. It’s like I’m trying to do something, and I have to try to figure out what is trying to pull me down; whatever appears like an enemy, I’m going to have to fight.

“But the album has been demanding too much of my time. I’m trying to create more time to have fun.”

And for fun, Banks goes clubbing, fancying locales like Jim Beam, Sin City, Chervilo and Black Box. It’s all about “unrestricted play”, he says. He does not drink much, but when he does, he favours rakiya, comparing it to a Nigerian firewater called ogogoro.

His lyrics are explicit (and this is noted on the cover of his album). When asked why, he responds: “I just like to talk free, to feel free. When you want to have fun, you cannot be conditioned. It’s just something inside.”

As he explains it, if a melody or a rhythm or a lyrical chain comes to him – be it at three in the morning or four in the afternoon – he just has to stop what he is doing and start freeing it from his mind. “I can feel the pattern of the melody,” he says. “I cannot read music. If I’m in the bedroom, and I can feel the pattern of the music, like floating around, I jump out of bed and run over to the mixer. It gets to a point that it can just crack you up.”

Since arriving in Bulgaria all those years ago, Banks says that Bulgarian hip-hop and rap have improved. He likes Upsurt and Spens.

The thing that made the greatest impression on him when he came was visual: in Nigeria, “you see all the black heads. And when you get here, it’s a different view. But still, we are the same. There are many characteristics in the Nigerian attitude that are very similar to the Bulgarian. I really respect (Bulgarians) because they love to have fun. When you’re just working without fun, you’re going to crack up. (Here in Bulgaria), people are fun. They want to go to coffee, they want to go to clubs. It’s like a balanced diet. There are some people who want to have fun, but because their brain is so conditioned, they can’t relax – they’re feeling too big (ie, too full of themselves) to have fun”.

Though Bulgaria is not known for its friendliness towards people who are not white, there was only one time, Banks says, that he has had a problem because of his skin colour.

“In Plovdiv, a long time ago, I had an incident on the street, and they tried to attack me for no sensible reason. So I fought back. I’m from the streets: I can really go to the street level if I have to.”

He has hope, though, that things can change in this regard. He says: “Maybe they should try to think about it – it’s a new world. This is childish stuff. I know they can do it. I know they can fix (racial attitudes) with time.”

And about his own future, Dennis Banks says that the best is yet to come. “This Cute Accuse, the first guy who dropped hits in Plovdiv, (has) not really been out of the game. I’ve just been observing how it works from the ground up. One thing that I’ve never let happen to me is to become f***ed up in what I’ve wanted to do – and this game is full of f***ers. If you’re not mentally prepared, you can get f***ed up at any time. I build myself up to where I need to be,“ he says, “so that I can stand up in the middle of friends and family and say that this is me, that this is the level at which I am in this field.“

Accuse La Banks’ album Apache Papa 2.1 Part Scandal is available at www.cdbaby.com