By – Bamijoko Favour

With over 28 KM in-between, every inch of the road, from the Tafawa Balewa Square in Lagos, to Gbemisola Street, in Ikeja, was overwhelmed with close to two million people, as they trekked, within whiffs and clouds of marijuana smoke, just to put to rest the man (or what is left of him) whose music, as Olorunnisola Kayinsola put it, “pacified” Nigeria when it burned and “set fire to the garments of unruly” politicians; the man, Fela Anikulapo Kuti. That procession, mournful as it was, in a strong sense, was not so much for the enigmatic music genius who redrafted his own name and created a brand of music for Africa and the world, as it was for the loss of a people, or their voice, who died with Fela’s death. 

For long, music has served different purposes. And this knowledge has been widely accepted to such an extent that it has become commonplace. For example, Joana Oliveira and Javier Yanes explained that music brings about social cohesion, therapy, happiness, and so on. This was noted in their 2022 article. But the revelation of what music can do has been with us ever since before documentation began. Primitive men have made music to conjure guttural spirits who we cannot know; they have chanted war songs to rouse spirit, blood, body to war — and even at that time, the list was endless. Thus, any exegesis on the inherent value of music is, more often than not, a restatement of what is known or what has been experienced.

As an arm of literature, music, and musicians by automatic relation, not only reflect society through the mirror of literature. As is with literature, music and musicians also diagnose societal faults and fissures and prescribe norms for restitution. Simply speaking, music has always had its place as a vehicle for social activism. According to Martin Luther, forerunner of protestantism, “Music drives away the devil and makes people gay.” Rather than read that statement in a metaphysical sense, a close contextual interpretation would mean “music cures the society of its ills.” Therefore, even in a sense, Martin Luther simply said music is a tool for social activism.

At various points through the course of time, societies have experienced one form of activism or the other. And at as many instances, music and artists alike have proven to be the horse upon which such movement rode. Throughout the prominence of the civil rights struggle or the black movement protest through the 1960’s to the 1970’s, black music and black musicians proved to be the horse upon which the movement rode. In fact, it will not be wide off the mark to say that without the activism-infused songs by black artists through that period, the movement may never have been able to drive home their point.

From We Shall Overcome to Odetta’s No More Auction Block, to Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit, even down to Sam Cooke’s A Change is Gonna Come, mellifluous songs charged with black power and resistance tore through the realms of Harlem, through the rockies of Colorado, the hills of Georgia, the mountains of New York, and engulfed the entirety of the US. Although released after his death, Sam Cooke’s A Change is Gonna Come would be selected for preservation in the Library of Congress of the US, and be covered by several contemporary icons in their numbers. The substance and form of that song reverberated through the hearts of as many who heard it.

In the heat of sweltering slave trade and colonialism, attended by its iterations of atrocities suffered by Jamaicans and blacks across America and Europe, Bob Marley, the timeless cultural prophet did not fail to lend his voice to the movement for social justice. For most of his 164 songs, Bob Marley spoke truth to the powers that be. From The Wailing Wailers, his first album, to Uprising, his last studio album released in his lifetime, Bob Marley became the poster image for cultural liberation, and a wailing voice for the oppressed. With spiritual songs like One Love, Redemption Song, No Woman, No Cry, Marley seemed to bridge the gaps that existed within the transnational space as both whites and blacks alike would rapturously sing One Love whenever it is played.

Bringing it Home

Kalakuta’s daemon and epitome of the Nigerian or even African singer-activist, Fela Anikulapo Kuti, attained international relevance long before his unbiddable spell as an activist. After attending the Trinity College of Music, London, Fela and the Koola Lobitos lineup were known for their highlife jazz and Afro-soul throughout a number of bars in the US, particularly Los Angeles. In fact, according to the Trinity Laban Conservatoire of Music and Dance, Fela and his band were a regular feature on the London Music scene. However, Fela’s discovery of the Black Power Movement coincided with the oil boom of the 1970’s and the unfettered corruption of Nigeria’s public servants, including the subjugating racism of the colonialists. Fela’s music took a turn and became a searing discography poised to dismantle knots of the corrupt political class and for the liberation of Africa,

But Fela was not alone. The post-colonial and post-military music scene of Nigeria saw a number of artists deploy their art as tools for social change. There was the virtuosic ‘Rainmaker’, Majek Fashek whose songs from “So Long, Too Long”, to “Religion nah Politics” to “African Unity” gave wings to pan-africanism. With “Free Africa, Free Mandela”, Majek went as far as lending his voice for the Free Mandela campaign, against apartheid in South Africa and for the liberation of the entire continent. On some occasions, the juju artist weighed in, other times, the Apala artists did. Even the inimitable Evi-Edna Ogoli and the Lijadu sisters did not lag behind. The point is these artists recognized their civic duty and did not fail to discharge it.

However, this national consciousness that burned through the assemblage of Nigerian artists from the pre-contemporary period seemed to have died off. The output from the Nigerian music industry lies with far less immaterial things; things like who to screw, money, punctuated with loads of misogynistic contents and beclouded with heavy smoking. While contemporary Nigerian music, particularly hip hop, thrives on the back of the work laid down by Fela Kuti who still stood up to institutional decadence, the only legacy of Fela it seems to sustain is the addiction to weed.

In recent times, Nigeria’s political scene has heaved with a number of upheavals. The cost of petrol has jumped; the cost of living, even higher; police and law enforcement brutality, on rampage; and the cost of education, rising. The variables which forced African China, in 2000, to release “Mr President” are still threatening, more excoriating than ever, to fray the country apart, and those with the most impactful and far-reaching voices are only preoccupied with sexual orgies and crypto scams.

In mid 1976, over 20,000 black students broke through the township of Soweto, decrying South Africa’s apartheid policies. They were met with heavy police brutality that left many pupils dead. The same police brutality was meted out to protesting students from OAU. In 1989, upon release from prison, Fela released “Beast of no Nation” where he addressed these heinous crimes. On the other hand, students have been groveling against the recent hike in tertiary educational fee to no avail, and to the arrest and victimization of student activists. Sadly, Nigeria’s pop stars are mute.

Before you retort with that maudlin argument eviscerated of compelling logic — it is their music and they can therefore choose whatever they sing or even stay out of political issues altogether —you must know that, as Orwell put it, “in our age there is no such thing as ‘keeping out of politics. All issues are political.” While Paul Robeson, famous American singer-activist, said “the artist must elect to fight for freedom or slavery.” As popular figures, entertainment artists have an impeccable, worldwide reach. Thus, can easily compel social change because their intervention brings the corresponding weight of global attention.

Besides, used as a tool for activism, music forces a certain introspection that other forms of activism cannot. Music sinks into the mind. Even after a one-time listen, the form and substance is sustained, retained, and churned over in the mind by the endless hum of memory. Social activism in the music industry could be a barometer for the progress of a movement for a social cause. When one considers how integral music and musicians have been for the success of many movements, one might not be wrong to say it may be impossible for an organized movement to achieve its aims without the involvement of artists. It takes no major feat of revelation to know this.

Today, Nigeria has a brand of artists well detached from her lived reality. The country is not a middle-aged teenage girl sobbing over a breakup. Nigerian artists need to step into the vacuum and be a tool for social mobilization. Unlike Fela, it need not be militant. But it must be consistent. A thoughtful song decrying political irregularities, corruption, bad policies, fee hike, goes a long way in spotlighting these issues to the global scene, in compelling leaders to act appropriately, and in bolstering people’s will to stand up to a failing government.  In his article “The Role of Urban Music in Social Change: The Revolution May Be Rapped”, Carlos Bajo Erro writes “the role musicians play as social actors goes beyond their facet as artists; they help to convey the message, intensify the demands and normalize protests.” At this point in our socio-political journey, our entertainment stars, particularly the pop artists, must not fail to use their art, and songs to influence social change because “music is the (a) weapon.”