This particular journey of a thousand miles began more than five decades ago with the single steps of men and women whose music formed the bedrock of the present-day music industry. Circa the 1970s up until the 1980s, when the Nigerian music scene first experienced its renaissance, with international sounds blended into a local mash by legendary musicians. Live shows and venues thrived from Lagos to Enugu to Port Harcourt and sparked a cultural and musical movement. The cultivated sound of individuals like Chief Stephen Osita Osadebe, King Sunny Ade, Fela Kuti, Oliver De Coque, Orlando Julius, Onyeka Onwenu, Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey, and Segun Bucknor ushered in a new and notable era.
All of these individuals fused foreign elements into their musical offerings to create a local mix long before the Burna Boys of today knew what “fusion” was all about. Highlife, Soul, Jazz, Pop, Funk, Afro-disco, Afrobeat, and Reggae were all refined foreign musical concepts tinkered for the consumption of locals. Their music was performed via energetic live shows, clubs, and concerts across the country. This was the very golden age of Nigerian classical music.
But the strides and indelible marks of these legends aside, what’s more wholesome to see is their past being revisited, their music being tapped into to explore artistic possibilities, and the reassessment of their journey, which fundamentally highlights how far we have truly come. In the last 10 years or so, the Nigerian music landscape has seen a spike in the revisiting of the past by creatives of all sorts, both home and abroad. In the form of interpolations, samples, and background sounds for content creators since the advent of social media like Instagram and TikTok. We’ve seen Fela Kuti’s music sampled countless times. ‘Sorrow tears and blood’, on Burna Boy’s ‘Ye’ and Skale’s ‘Cool Temper’, Fela’s Lady on Wizkid’s ‘Jaiye Jaiye’, the interpolation of King Wasiu Ayinde Marshal’s “Agogo Ko Ma Ro’ on Davido’s ‘Like Dat’, Bibi Mascel’s 1982 disco song ‘Special Lady’ on Tyler the Creator’s ‘I THINK’, and honestly, the list is endless. Surely this depicts the musical richness of Nigerian music’s precious past.
In 2024 alone, we’ve seen Tems interpolate Seyi Sodimu’s 1997 ‘Love me Jeje’, Ayra Star’s ‘Jazzy Song’ interpolates Wande Coal’s ‘You Bad’, Paul I.K. Dairo’s 2002 ‘Mo Wa Dupe’ on Olamide’s ‘Morowore’, Childish Gambino’s sample of Eddie Okwedy’s ‘Happy Survival’ on his recently released soundtrack album, and so on. Our musical past is not just a past; it’s still very much alive, here with us, and still being revived by creatives who consider it a treasure trove of inspiration. Creatives who are aware that without these individuals who moved to create music even when the incentives were relatively nonexistent, the chain reaction that birthed their aspirations and careers would be nothing but a void. They made music not because it was a profitable business like it is now, but because it was a calling larger than themselves. And it’s saddening to see most of these legends live in a pitiful state. It spells out the lack of structure that plagued and still plagues the music industry to date.
On the 5th of July, Nigerian skit maker Brainjotter posted a hilarious video on his Facebook page, and it blew up. In the viral video, Brainjotter did a dance routine to the captivating Highlife music from over 40 years ago by Folklore Highlife musician Gentleman Mike Ejeagha. Now 95 years old, Gentleman Mike Ejeagha is known for his storytelling music wound up in strings of guitar. Hence, his music is called “Akụkọ na-egwu.”
The song “Ka Esi Le Onye Isi Oche” portrays a story of how the tortoise wanted to marry the king’s daughter. In order for that to happen, a hefty bride price was required by the king, and the tortoise promised the king that he would bring him an elephant. The tortoise already had an elephant friend. So he persuaded the elephant to accompany him to the wedding. Unknown to the elephant, he was the gift that would be given to the king. It was at the ceremony that the elephant found out he had been tricked by his friend, the tortoise. He became angry and chased the tortoise. Hence the “gwo gwo gwon gwor,” which is an old slang in Igbo for elephant running.
His lyrics are often laced with proverbs and folklore, lending his music a didactic style. And that has somehow resonated with people at this time, perhaps because of how catchy the music is. Poignant videos that later circulated the internet showed individuals paying homage to the now-weary musician in his home. A teary Gentleman Mike Ejeagha, is slightly rendered immobile due to old age. A song he released in 1983 is only now getting the attention he must have once craved, in 2024. A big break at 95.
Thankfully, streaming platforms and social media like TikTok and Instagram have made the discovery of music easily accessible. And it’s beautiful to see because it shatters every geographic, time, and genre constraint. In context, there’s no telling the kind of music you’ll fall in love with and choose to explore. One scroll away, you find yourself sucked into a tune playing in the background of your favourite content creator’s dance or “GRWM” routine. Then you’re compelled to check out the song, and if you’re curious like me, explore the artist’s catalogue. And this could be a song from more than 40 years ago. The timeless resonance of a classic across generations.
