AV Club: “Finding Fela” & the importance of wholesomely documenting African music’s heroes
Alex Gibney’s documentary is far from a hagiography, but it clearly doesn’t dig deep enough
In the history of Nigerian music, no other figure possesses a mythos as powerful as Fela Anikulapo-Kuti. Of the myriad of hugely popular and trailblazing African artists of the twentieth century, the Afrobeat originator is arguably the most fascinating, confounding, and complex musical figure of that period. The Afrobeat pioneer’s story stands out for many reasons; between creating one of the most distinct and singular genres to emerge out of Africa, insidiously tackling the corrupt powers that be, and leading a heavily hedonistic lifestyle, Fela’s life has served as an unending wellspring for many to (attempt to) tell his story in varying forms.
Finding Fela, a documentary centred on the life and times of the artist, premiered at the 2014 Sundance Film Festival and was recently made available for free viewing for a limited one-week period last week, on the online documentary archival channel, Link TV. Co-produced and directed by prolific, Oscar-winning director Alex Gibney, Finding Fela is a sprawling, 2-hour long feature, largely aimed at intensifying the spotlight on Fela’s political activism, as an awe-inspiring introduction for previously unfamiliar audiences, and to further endear him to those already acquainted with his life story.
On the surface, it’s an interesting perspective considering how much of his time on earth was consumed and defined by loudly sticking it to corrupt military regimes, with severe consequences to match. However, as a wholesome examination of Fela’s life and a portrayal of his legacy, Finding Fela falls short, obsessing over his martyrdom while visibly inching away from fully exploring the complexities that made up the man. Initially conceived as an on-screen accompaniment to ‘FELA!’, the 2009 Broadway musical executive produced by Shawn Carter and Will Smith, the documentary constantly revels in the spectacle of Fela’s confrontational approach to socio-political issues, and the mystic he garnered from being a social dissident and defiant truth-teller.
Contextually speaking, it is impossible to divorce the mythos of Fela from the social, political, and economic condition of Nigeria in the ‘70s and ‘80s. Following the Nigerian civil war in the late ‘60s, the country entered into a prosperous period mainly due to the discovery and exportation of crude oil as Nigeria’s main earner. During those years of the oil boom, revenue inflow was abundant, but rather than heavily invest in building up infrastructure and creating a system to ensure national wealth that lasted for decades, the military regimes in those times were ultra-corrupt, recklessly looting and casually oppressing the majority of its citizens. By the ‘80s, due to the effect of the oil glut, Nigeria’s socio-economic conditions worsened significantly, perhaps reaching its lowest during a recession in 1984 under a familiar figure (the Military ruler, President Muhammadu Buhari of Nigeria).
Enlightened by his encounter with the Civil Rights movement during a brief, but quite tumultuous stay in the U.S. in the late ‘60s, Fela’s music and activism, following his initial years of making featherweight highlife-jazz with his first band Koola Lobitos, is indelibly linked to this period in Nigerian history. Finding Fela does a remarkable job of highlighting this bond, examining the push-and-pull between the government’s responses to his “incendiary” brand of music, and Fela’s increasing obstinacy and unyielding mentality, even after the infamous attack by “Unkown Soldiers” which led to the tragic passing of his mother, the late Mrs Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti. In these moments, Alex Gibney perfectly presents Fela as a rebel, but if you’re looking for anything deeper than the usual “Music is a weapon” shtick, this documentary is sorely lacking.
With testimonies from the now-deceased Africa ’70 drummer and bandleader Tony Allen, visual artist and close friend Lemi Ghariokwu, authorised Fela biographer, Carlos Moore, author of Fela: Life & Times of an African, Michael Veal, his most famous children, Femi, Seun and Yeni, and more, Finding Fela pulls in from a wide and apt range of sources. At that, the focus on deification means that Fela’s work as a musician and the fallible sides of his person are under-explored and handled shoddily.
Apart from Femi narrating how Fela ended up at the Trinity College of Music in London, the short 2-minutes detailing his synergy with Tony Allen, led by legendary drummer Questlove, and Michael Veal breaking down the difference between Africa ’70 and Egypt ’80, there isn’t much about Afrobeat as a creative landmark in all of music. If you’ve read any of the several biographies on Fela, there’s a heavy emphasis on him being a consummate artist and a composer with golden ears who demanded excellence from members of his band at all times. Too little of this makes its way into the doc, and it fragments several important details about Fela’s artistry, such as the way he ran his band with an iron hand, and the constant fiscal issues they suffered – several band members of Africa ’70 held day jobs at the height of Fela’s popularity, to supplement their earnings which often came in late. Tony Allen and a significant portion of the band left after the 1978 Berlin Jazz festival, after months of no pay and finding out that Fela planned on using the 6-figure payment to fund his presidential run.
In a similar manner, perhaps even more aggravating, details of Fela’s personal life are also fragmented to keep the veneration intact. In perhaps the wildest revelation of the doc, Femi and Yeni revealed that Fela insisted that his children address him by his name rather than “Dad” or any other variation, because he didn’t want it to seem like he was favouring his own children over the hundreds of people living in his commune, Kalakuta republic. Rather than using that as a cue to dig deeper into his parenting method – Fela infamously refused to let his children attend school since he detested western education –the doc finds a way to spin it into a sign of altruism. It was a missed moment to capture Fela’s complex character matrix, as someone who was a man of the people and also a terrible father, by most standards.
Of all the non-ideal traits Fela exhibited, none was more infamous than his hedonistic lifestyle, particularly marked by stories of his voracious sex appetite and his marriage to 27 women in one day. To live this lifestyle, Fela was openly misogynistic, cordoning women to the role of “helpmates” both on wax and off it. Of course, this was the ‘70s, and feminism wasn’t a welcome concept in these parts (it still isn’t but it’s more popular). At that, this part of Fela’s life is very unsettling, not really because he had so many sexual partners at once, but for the fact that several of them got involved with him while they were minors. No one’s disputing the role of the Kalakuta queens to the very fabric of Afrobeat, but there’s a predatory and paternalistic aspect that is always worth exploring when narrating Fela.
In the authorised biography, Fela: This Bitch of a Life, author Carlos Moore interviewed Fela’s wives, and about half a dozen admitted to being sexually involved with Fela from as young as their mid-teen years – from fifteen to sixteen. In Finding Fela, none of this is acknowledged, rather it is side-stepped to focus on the “honour” he bestowed on them by hailing them as his queens. Choreographer and director of ‘FELA!’, Bill T. Jones, explains in the doc that he couldn’t fully explore this side of Fela in the musical, mainly because the times have changed and many in the audience would be experiencing the man for the first time in a theatre in Manhattan, New York. Alex Gibney does the same, very likely for the same reason.
Another reason why Finding Fela isn’t an entirely compelling watch, especially to audiences who are familiar with his life’s story and those seeking to know more beyond his status as a political activist, is the wealth of information about Fela that’s been made available to the public. Many long-form articles have been written, books have been published, and multiple documentaries about the man have been released, even dating as recent as BBC’s Fela: Father of Afrobeat from late last year. On a broader level, it begs the question of the fate of the stories of African music’s heroes, considering that very few have been able to corner the same level of obsessive attention Fela has garnered.
From What Happened, Miss Simone? to Amy and Beware of Mr. Baker, documentaries about iconic artists are full-on inquisitions that allow audiences to reckon with their inspirations as extremely talented individuals with their own quirks and traits, however undesirable. Finding Fela is far from a hagiography, but it clearly doesn’t dig deep enough. In a way, it portrays Fela as a bunch of ideas – mostly political – but people, even the most famous ones, are a lot more than a summation of their ideals.
It is widely known that African music has a documentation problem; many of our iconic figures’ stories are untold, and even when that happens, they aren’t always wholly represented. Finding Fela is a reminder of the dearth of these stories, not just as a pointer of the need to preserve, but also an example of why proper, critically tight documentation is urgent and important.
Dennis is a staff writer at the NATIVE. Let me know your favourite the Cavemen songs @dennisadepeter
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Maya Amolo Is Committed To Giving You The Sweetest Time
There’s undoubtedly more to come from the talented singer as she looks to solidify herself as one of the...
“Sweetest Time,” Maya Amolo’s latest single, is a soothing, lovesick confessional that mixes intimate, heartfelt lyricism with wistful production courtesy of Ugandan musician and producer SOULCHYD aka MAUIMØON. Alongside fellow Kenyan singer Ywaya Tajiri, the self-acclaimed sweetest girl delivers a lustrous duet that sees her soft vocals, which perfectly complement Tajiri’s more robust voice, skip and flit across moody synths, intensifying the spotlight on her wholehearted delivery. “I can feel you rushing through my system / Every single day it’s my religion,” she sings passionately halfway into the record. The whole thing sounds like the aural equivalent of a warm blanket; a truly affectionate record that immerses and envelopes its listeners in its warmth. This is the brand of vulnerable, understated R&B music that has been helping Amolo gain significant attention since she debuted in the pandemic year.
Born and raised in Nairobi, Kenya, Amolo always had an affinity for music. The singer and producer, who took on piano and guitar lessons as a child, has previously credited acts like Brandy, Erykah Badu, Prince, and Kenyan musical icon Eric Wainaina as her early influences – and it’s easy to see how Amolo’s style draws from this strong lineage of musicians whose music is equally expansive, soothing and vulnerable. After years experimenting with different styles, recording covers to beats she ripped from YouTube and posting them on her Soundcloud page, Amolo released her debut project ‘Leave Me At The Pregame’ in 2020.
The EP, which quickly soared up the charts in Kenya, served as a brief but emphatic introduction to Amolo’s minimalistic take on R&B. Standouts like the emotive opener “Puddles,” “Lush Green”, and “Jokes” showcase her clever and poignant lyricism that reflects on themes of love, depression, and self-healing. Along with sparse, melancholic production and the icy sensuality of her voice, Amolo delivered a remarkable debut that made her one of the most promising figures in Nairobi’s alternative music scene. Two years after ‘Leave Me At The Pregame,’ the Kenyan rising star released her debut album, ‘Asali.’
‘Asali,’ which translates to “honey” in her native Kiswahili, showcased Amolo’s progression as both an artist and a human being, as she swapped out the sad-girl tunes that filled her debut EP for more vibrant and intricate records – thanks in part to Sir Bastien and Kenyan producer and rapper Lukorito – that explore themes of growth and the complexities and rich luster of love. The album’s lead singles, “Foundry” and the self-produced “Can’t Get Enough,” found relative success on streaming platforms, placing Amolo as one of the continent’s most exciting new R&B voices. About a year after the release of ‘Asali,’ Amolo updated the album with 8 new songs on a deluxe version that featured Kenyan stars like Bensoul, Xenia Manasseh and Zowie Kengocha.
In August 2024, a few months after she delivered a splendid Colors performance, Amolo released a new project titled ‘What a Feeling.’ The 5-track EP, which essentially serves as an ode to Amolo’s home city, Nairobi, sees her experimenting with an array of dance sub-genres without straying too far from her R&B roots. While the project still retains much of the melancholy and elegance that defined her earlier work, there’s a hypnotic and pulsating energy that courses through ‘What A Feeling,’ that highlights a shift in the singer’s sensibilities. Amolo’s honeyed vocals gently seep through subtle Dancehall, Electronic, R&B and House-inspired production and the accompanying visualizer, a mashup of camcorder footage of her and her friends in Nairobi, also adequately captures the charming and nocturnal vibe of the tape.
The project produced standout tracks like the sensual “Let It Flow,” the title track and “Take It,” which later got remixed by Ugandan singer Soundlykbb and rapper SGawD. With Amolo’s latest release, “Sweetest Girl,” the Kenyan rising star continues her intricate exploration of R&B music, merging it with varying styles to produce her own distinct and refreshing variant. There’s no telling what Amolo might do next, but with only a handful of releases to her name so far, there’s undoubtedly more to come from the talented singer as she looks to solidify herself as one of the genre’s most prominent faces across the continent.
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T.I Blaze Updates ‘Shakur’ EP With Deluxe Version
Following the success of “Trenches Luv,” the street-pop star is back with seven new songs on the deluxe...
Over the last few years, street-pop, a guttural version of afropop, has surged to mainstream popularity, birthing stars like Asake, Seyi Vibez, and Shallipopi. On the homefront, a generation of younger stars also put unique spins on the sound. Singer, T.I Blaze, has been a notable star in the sub-genre since his 2021 single, “Sometimes,” and a subsequent remix with icon, Olamide, launched him into a different stratosphere.
Since “Sometimes,” Blaze has established his profile as a reliable source for songs that reflect the pulse of the streets while archiving his come-up story across a debut album (‘El Major’) and three extended plays like ‘The Fresh Prince Of Lagos’ and ‘Dangerous Wavy Baby.’ His 2024 EP, ‘Shakur,’ further underscored his evolution as an artist, featuring slippery numbers about escapism, his thoughts on life in the fast lane, and brotherhood with features from rising stars like Tml Vibez and BhadBoi Oml.
In 2025, the singer has picked up where he left off last year, releasing “Trenches Luv,” a balmy February release that examines the dynamics of romance from his point of view as a young adult moulded by the hard realities of life on the street. The success of “Trenches Luv” has led to a deluxe version of ‘Shakur’ with the singer adding seven new songs to the original version of the project. Impressively, on the new version of the project, TI Blaze taps up Ayo Maff and Ghanaian star Arathejay on “My Brother” and “Mario Remix,” respectively.
Led by a galala-inflected opener, “Track 1,” ‘Shakur (Deluxe)’ is both raw and complex with the singer sounding refreshed on songs like “My Brother,” “Dodge,” and “Introduction.” In many ways, this project is an invitation for listeners to explore the many facets of T.I Blaze’s artistry as well as a portent to celebrate his roots and offer a glimpse at his evolution.
Listen to ‘Shakur (Deluxe)’ here.
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NATIVE PREMIERE: Rigo Kamp Runs Ahead Of The Pack With The Visuals For “Marathon”
Rigo Kamp’s Marathon video is an intimate Afro-juju revival that pays homage to Sir Shina Peters and stamps...
Last Friday, Rigo Kamp, a NATIVE uNder alum and one of the architects of an equal parts nostalgic and refreshing sound released his self-titled debut EP, delivering a propulsive fusion of Alte, R&B, Funk, and Soul-infused rhythms.
Featuring previously released singles “Morning Sun” and “Summer”, the six-track eponymous EP executively produced by Odunsi The Engine sees Rigo lean heavily into his element as a sonic alchemist, jumping from silky falsettos to gritty grooves without losing an ounce of cohesion, and ultimately stamping the Abuja-born, Lagos-based singer-songwriter as a mad scientist of sound.
Just last November, Apple Music named Rigo Kamp as its Up Next artist, an acknowledgment that underscored his potential and confirmed what the tastemakers and underground scene already knew. Weeks later, he delivered an exhilarating live set for Spotify Fresh Finds in Lagos, proving he’s just as compelling live as he is in the studio.
On “Marathon”, the refreshing opener to the Rigo Kamp EP, Rigo borrows the bounce and swagger of Afro-Juju legend, Sir Shina Peters’ golden-era, fusing nostalgia with re-imagination to birth a vintage performance that feels like a private party for two, where it’s just Rigo, and you.
Get an exclusive first look at the video for Marathon here:
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