Last Tuesday, near the end of his Instagram Live chat with DCP Frank Mba, the spokesperson of the Nigerian Police Force, Naira Marley had something on his mind. Seemingly out of the blue, the singer delivered a vitriolic warning to the over 30,00-strong audience that had tuned in for the live chat. Speaking in Yoruba, he said: “Now that SARS are being taken out of the streets,” – a weirdly optimistic point considering precedents – “ensure that you don’t misbehave or steal, if not they’ll let another (rebranded) unit back out. ”
It is symptomatic of a certain group of Nigerians’ perception of – or even apprehension towards – youth movements that Naira Marley felt the need to tag on this counter-narrative. Especially at a time when the nation was coming to terms with a national crisis about how an instrument of the state that is primarily entrusted with the protection of citizens is engaged in a lucrative racket at the expense of those very citizens – ironically, mere moments after Naira’s live session ended, fresh reports of police extortion and brutality reached the Internet and have continued unabated leading to unlawful arrest, and tragically, in some cases, losses of life.
In a further kicker, just as he prepared to get off the live session, Naira Marley intoned that he had nothing to lose if all went to hell. Taken in isolation, it might seem like an unnecessarily harsh thing to say to a people looking up to him as a leading figure – at that time – in the fight against police brutality, but if you really want a truly holistic view of what he was trying to say with these closing remarks (if you can pardon the banal peek at his limited understanding of the issues affecting young Nigerians) you’ll understand that it is a reflection of Naira Marley’s reality.
By virtue of his celebrity, Naira is insulated from the too-often survivalist, brutal reality of more than 80% of the Nigerian citizenry. He is of a specific Nigeria, whose own problems might be fantastical chimaeras for the majority of this country; so, to put it very plainly, Naira Marley does not truly comprehend the scope of how insidious and dehumanising it is to have your everyday life hawked over by a tactical unit originally set up to protect against armed robbery. What he does understand is the privilege that life in his bubble can confer and the potential for a continued prosperous existence if the illusion of a calm, unproblematic Nigeria can be kept up. But, at that moment, the biggest danger was this: that in Naira Marley’s hands, the #EndSars hashtag, currently serving as a repository of our generation’s evolving abolitionist instinct towards oppressive instruments of the state, faced the threat of petering out into another chance for the police to foot-drag and pontificate over an issue that continues to end the lives of young Nigerians.
Fortunately, the days since that live chat have been characterised by everything but the inaction that the Nigerian Police Force hoped for from Nigerian youths. Young people everywhere are protesting, criticising, and disrupting with the ultimate goal of getting a response and point of action from the government. As protests have continued across the country, driven by an egalitarian spirit of camaraderie, Naira Marley has continued to tweet, and the reaction to his statements reflect a more pertinent question: what is the place of music stars in the #EndSars and our wider protest culture.
The brief platforming of Naira Marley in the opening days of the movement owes much to the run of singles he went on in 2019 that established him as one of the biggest pop stars in the country. After receiving criticism for his support of cybercrime in the early months of last year, Naira’s songs piqued curiosity and caught attention for the lascivious themes that dominated them, the air of dissent that cruised through his music, as well as spinning a fraud allegation into a larger-than-life stance of irreverence that birthed a strong stan base named after himself. Surgically going after layers of puritanical culture with every line of his in 2019, Naira Marley endeared himself to an emergent generation of young Nigerians tired of being creatively and economically stifled who often imbued his more reflective songs with pseudo-philosophical meanings.
Between his status as a popular dissenter, clashes with the Nigerian judicial system, and Nigeria’s famed lack of leadership of youth, Naira’s voice has been both a place of recognition for young Nigerians and a cultural resonant power, continuing the time-honoured tradition of popular Nigerian musicians having the soft power to reflect the voice of the people and wink at their requests in their music. The most popular protest musician in Nigerian history is undoubtedly Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, the famed maverick who invented afrobeat, using his sonic creation as an unabashed political tool to speak truth to power and make music geared at social revolution. By the time Fela passed in 1997, he had spent a significant part of his adulthood as a political martyr, straddling the thin line between dissident and musician.
None of the musicians who have come after Fela have matched up to the weighty clarity of his social equality demands as a protest musician or even possess the guttural sucker punch of his music. Naira Marley, for all his Fela-like stances and interpolations, has never matched up in this regard and when the time came to lead a protest, didn’t. His platform was meant to be the trigger for a class-crossing social movement but ultimately that proved not to be. Importantly, beyond making music, Fela had a firm grasp on the political realities of the community around him and the wider African continent, something that is key for anyone trying to improve their society beyond the posturing of agitprop – which cannot be totally said about any of the musicians who have attempted to make protest music after him,
Runtown is not the most politically vocal Nigerian celebrity, however, he lent his platform to the #EndSars movement, becoming the first musician to amplify the message beyond the labyrinth of social media and empathise with the struggle in a way any average Nigerian youth can relate to – from a place of weariness and righteous anger. Summoning a coalition of the willing, he joined a protest on Lagos Island, taking off at the LagosToll Gate. Runtown was joined by Falz, Tiwa Savage, WurlD, and Jaywon, and instead of concerted efforts at elevating their profiles through the visibility of the protests, the musicians simply lit the fire for what has now evolved into a social revolution across the country, giving speeches and moral support to people who came out.
One way or the other, most of the seminal voices of the Nigerian music industry have contributed their voices to the protests after some days of inertia. Rudeboy called the SARS unit “criminals”, Mr. Eazi provided a more succinct reaction, saying that police reforms were needed while referencing the tragic murder of the Apo Six. In the opening days though, nobody shook the table quite like Wizkid did, when he quote-tweeted a get-well-message to Donald Trump from President Buhari’s handle, to demand action and going on a brief back-and-forth with Lauretta Onochie, an aide to the President.
Donald trump is not your business!
Old man! Police/Sarz still killing
Nigerian youth on a daily! Do something!
Nothing concern u for America!
Face your country !! https://t.co/thxmoYb7VE
A dedicated campaign to bring the demand of the youth to international attention also caught the notice of celebrities across the world. Shatta Wale released a song titled “Fuck Sars.” Cardi B brought significant exposure to the problem, Trey Songz has amplified the message with a series of social media posts, as has Kirk Franklin; similarly, a number of footballing stars like Mesut Ozil, Fikayo Tomori, and Tammy Abraham have stood with the Nigerian youth
The woke culture of the 2010s has fully blossomed, breeding a hyper-aware generation of music consumers who have urged – read: dragged – Nigerian celebrities like Toyin Abraham to confront their privileges and insulation their stardom (which given to them by their audiences’ voices) provides them. Burna Boy has built a global brand off his perceptions of and responses to the ills of the wider Nigerian problem but was silent – due to his mother’s surgery, he explained – in the early days of the movement and upon returning to social media has continued to polarise opinions. On one hand, he’s creating an NGO to help with logistical needs and on the other, alienating observers with the condescending tone of some of his messaging.
With all this happening, the #EndSars protests have taken off. Coming years after the high-handedness of SARS and other police divisions had been identified as part of a systemic rot, the movement is an oasis of frustration and outpouring of trauma for many, that even the disappointment of Naira Marley’s no-show could not stem. Clearly learning from that incidence – and other civil protests in the past – our generation are emphasising an anomalous system of hierarchy that accentuates horizontal structuring and does not centre any figure.
The most impactful pop musicians of the movement have been those who have found their footing, using their platforms, community organising skills, and activism to bolster the movement, within this fluid structure: while Runtown led the way, Small Doctor has also shown up, organising a group of protester to take the agitation to the Lagos state capital all the way from Agege. Skales joined a peaceful protest in Ilorin. Oxlade convened a protest across Surulere that has now surely cranked up the heat on the state government and national legislative. Davido used his social capital as a literal bulletproof against twitchy-fingered policemen in Abuja while negotiating the release of arrested protesters. Wizkid galvanized the crowd with his presence at the Nigerian Embassy London and Adekunle Gold played a role in organising a protest against SARS in Houston.
Without possessing the institutional knowledge of public laws, mobilisation techniques, and effective organising that mark out activists, music celebrities seem to have found an alternate role in protest as lodestars to strengthen the weary and urge increased participation online and offline. Yet, the Nigerian police and authorities, perhaps sensing an opportunity to play to some of their egos, have targeted them as weak links. Using the dialogue offer made to Naira Marley, the Nigerian Police Force has corralled Davido into an ‘agreement’ whose entirety has not been made public and predicated on a framework that does not have the majority backing of the protesters who have sacrificed so much in the fields and online.
Through it all, Davido’s “Fem” has emerged as the song of the movement, perfectly capturing the exasperation – and unbroken spirit – of youths and young adults everywhere from Ibadan to Benin and Abuja. Joining Fela’s “Zombie” African China’s “Mr. President” and Eedris Abdulkareem’s “Jaga Jaga”, “Fem” will now be remembered as the song of our revolution, as a left-centre addition to the canon of Nigerian protest music. But Davido’s contributions to the protest does not give him the key to leadership and hopefully, he realises this.
Now is not the time to look to musicians and celebrities to lead the charge for a moral right, not when they wittingly and unwittingly benefit from the current situation of things in ways that obfuscate the true toll of Nigeria’s problems for them. They can touch a glimpse of our struggle in their creative endeavours but shared identity is not shared reality in any way. And with unconfirmed rumour that the police plan to withdraw mobile police protection from visible celebrities, we can only wonder what happens to their activism?
Are they willing to deal with the true face of the Nigerian collapse, are they willing to lose certain privileges to call out who needs to be called out? The coming days will reveal the answer to this but we should be prepared to bring our music stars from the glorified pedestals we have placed them and lead our charge with or without them.
Featured image credits/YagazieEmezi
Please share any useful information about #ENDSARS protests @nativemag
Across the album’s 12 tracks, Luwa.Mp4 continues his fiery exploration and fusion of genres like Punk Rock,...
Rising singer and rapper Luwa.Mp4 has released his debut album titled ‘punKstA*.’ The underground star...
Rising singer and rapper Luwa.Mp4 has released his debut album titled ‘punKstA*.’ The underground star who has been on a release spree all year long, announced the imminent arrival of his debut only a couple of days ago with a cryptic trailer video and an Instagram caption that simply read ‘PUNKSTA* MONDAY.’
Before the arrival of ‘punKstA*,’ the rising fusion star had been showcasing his diligence and talent with a consistent output that has seen him put out over a dozen songs since the start of the year. A string of singles led to a 6-pack titled ‘lore skooL,’ while a deluxe version that housed 5 new songs came just a month later.
His debut album’s lead single, “pUNK FANTASY,” arrived in late July, setting the stage for what could prove to be a pivotal moment in the underground star’s burgeoning career.
Across the album’s 12 tracks, the eclectic singer continues his fiery exploration and fusion of genres like Punk Rock, Afropop, Hyperpop, and Rap into something uniquely different. Tracks like “Pure Water,” which was previously teased on Cruel Santino’s Subaru Live Stream, the abrasive, Tecno-influenced “pROMISED NEVERLAND,” and the more laidback “pEEp MY RIDE” put on display the sort of varied, autotune-soaked approach that has set him apart and helped carve a growing niche.
While Luwa decided to go solo on his debut, credited as the only recording artist, the album was brought to life by a cast of talented producers like frequent collaborator TOPSY, Emyboi, JTRN, 3CB, FVKK.ANDI and Jeremy Cartier.
The South African R&B star is at her most assertive on her first album in four years.
South African R&B and Pop singer Shekhinah has released a new surprise album titled ‘Less Trouble.’...
South African R&B and Pop singer Shekhinah has released a new surprise album titled ‘Less Trouble.’ The Durban star, who had been quiet for most of the year, took to social media shortly before midnight to share the new album’s cover, synopsis, and tracklist, simply stating, ‘If you’re seeing this my album LESS TROUBLE is out now at Midnight,’ in an Instagram caption.
The soulful singer first began teasing ‘Less Trouble,’ her first album in over four years, about a year ago when she released its lead single “Risk,” a bouncy Afropop-inspired collab with Ghanaian star MOLIY. A few months after the release of “Risk,” she put out “Steady,” a dreamy pop number that suggested that something bigger was on the horizon. But then it was largely radio silence about a project until its surprise arrival at midnight.
If 2021’s ‘Trouble In Paradise’ represented a coming-of-age for Shekhinah, subsisting some of the dreamy, youthful exuberance of her debut album for more measured musings on themes like heartbreak and grief, ‘Less Trouble’ finds her at her most assertive, writing and singing with the acuity of someone who is grown, decisive and discerning. The delicate opener “Break Up Season” sets the tone for the rest of the album as she shows little tolerance for shady behaviour and toxic patterns.
Other standout cuts on the album like “Bare Minimum,” a sombre collab with fellow South African award-winning singer lordkez, the ethereal, in-your-face interlude “New Casanova,” and the percussive “What Are We,” where Shekhinah contemplates the nature of a relationship but ultimately demands all or nothing, all drive home a part of the album’s synopsis, which reads ‘A BOOK ON MORE HEARTBREAK BUT LESS HEARTACHE.’
Shekhinah invites a couple of new collaborators on ‘Less Trouble,’ featuring the aforementioned MOLIY and lordkez as well as multi-instrumentalist Mars Baby and Young Stunna across the album’s 11 tracks. Mpilo Shabangu handled the majority of the album’s production, while other producers like Michael Morare, her longtime collaborator, Mthintheki Mzizi, and Vuyo also contributed to the album.
‘Black Star’ marks another evolutionary arc for Amaarae, and The NATIVE team offer our thoughts after a...
Change has always been a constant theme in any discussion about the career of Ghanaian-American star,...
Change has always been a constant theme in any discussion about the career of Ghanaian-American star, Amaarae. Since she emerged as a singular voice in the late 2010s, she has evolved from a sirenic Afropop-adjacent singer into a Punk-Pop firestarter with minimal fuss. ‘Fountain Baby,’ her 2023 sophomore album, was a sweeping departure from the lilting melodies and shapeshifing cadences of the hypnotic ‘The Angel You Don’t Know,’ emphasizing her commitment to charting new courses with her music.
In the lead-up to her new album, ‘Black Star,’ she has wholly embraced a Pop aesthetic and sheen that was reflected on the album’s promotional singles, “S.M.O.” and “Girlie-Pop!.” Now that the album has arrived, the singer has advised listeners not to go in expecting a continuation of the soundscape on ‘Fountain Baby.’ As keen followers of Amaarae’s career from its start, we are sure that ‘Black Star’ marks another evolutionary arc for her, and we offer our thoughts after a few listens.
WHAT WERE YOUR EXPECTATIONS OF AMAARAE GOING INTO THIS ALBUM?
Kemnachi: I had zero doubts that she would impress me again. Amaarae always comes correct. She is audacious with her choices, taking creative risks most artists would not dare to imagine, and somehow rendering them seamless, deliberate, and effortless. Her music has a way of enveloping me: it’s fluid, slightly dangerous, and yet irresistibly sensual. Every project feels like an immersive world she has curated down to the finest detail. With ‘Black Star,’ I knew it was not going to be a mere collection of songs but another meticulously constructed realm.
Bamise: I expected something fun, genre-bending, and sonically diverse in the fashion that Amaarae’s music typically is. I may have taken the album title a bit too literally, though, because listening made me realise I had an eye out for some Pan-African statements or something to spark discourse on African identity, but I didn’t quite catch any of that.
Boluwatife: Amaarae has largely delivered throughout her career, so I knew she was going to come correct again. She’s one of those forward-thinking artists who take the kind of risks most others wouldn’t, but she always manages to make it work. She’s proven to be a musical omnivore who constantly meshes her wide-ranging influences into something new, fluid, icy, and more often than not, sensual. I knew ‘Black Star’ wasn’t going to be any different.
WHAT SONGS STOOD OUT ON THE FIRST LISTEN?
Wale: I liked “Girlie-Pop!.” I feel like it captures Amaarae’s vision of pushing Afropop into the future. She’s also really grown comfortable with music and lyricism and will not dumb down her message for anybody. The instrumental for “Girlie-Pop!” is also a wonder; it’s so dense, but there are pockets for Amaarae to be emotive about her feelings. Top song!
Daniel Akins: I need to hear “B2B” at the next rave I’m at. Amaarae is in her Dance era, and I’m here for it. Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2” with PinkPantheress is the collaboration I knew I needed, and I’m glad they finally linked up. It’s a clear standout on the project; their ethereal style complements each other.
Shina: “B2B” was the one that did it for me. That is my favourite track on the project. The number of times I ran it back was unhealthy for a first listen. It was also really fun to catch the Don Toliver “Best You Had” sample. I need to hear this outside!
HOW WELL YOU THINK THE GUEST APPEARANCES ENHANCED THE LISTENING EXPERIENCE?
Israel: The guest features on Black Star aren’t mere flexes. They’re strategic, theatrical, and sometimes emotionally resonant. They enhance, yes, but they do so on Amaarae’s terms. A standout for me was PinkPantheress on “Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2.” The tradeoff is that a few songs feel like dazzling cameos rather than an integrated conversation, yet overall they enhance the album’s drama, texture, and bravado with precision.
Daniel Banjoko: Everyone showed up and delivered, no weak links here. Instead of just guest spots, they felt like vital pieces of a bigger puzzle. Charlie Wilson on “Dream Scenario” nailed his part especially, making the track sound exactly like its name promises.
Moore: The guest appearances on ‘Black Star’ feel very intentional; each one enhances the album’s world without overshadowing Amaarae’s vision. PinkPantheress’s signature airy delivery meshes with Amaarae’s experimental pop sound. Naomi Campbell’s commanding voice on “ms60” is an unexpected but powerful addition, adding drama to the track. Each feature feels carefully chosen.
WHAT SONG IS THE BIGGEST SKIP?
Bamise: Not to be a party pooper, but I don’t get the PinkPantheress collab, “Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2.” It feels like a PinkPantheress song with less pop in it, and just borrows the title of the iconic Soulja Boy song but has no other similarities. It’s between that and “ms60.” For me, the chorus of that sounds like something I’ve heard from Amaarae before, and I doubt its absence would have diminished the album.
Shina: I feel like biggest skip is a strong word for a solid project, but if I have to pick a song to skip, it’ll be “ms60.” I think it’s easily forgettable.
Wale: It’s hard to single out a song that stuck out to me, but hearing Naomi Campbell on “ms60” threw me off. It’s just too contrived to bear for me.
WHAT SONG HAS THE BIGGEST HIT POTENTIAL?
Boluwatife: My gut answer would probably be “She Is My Drug,” just because of how she beautifully reworks the melodies from Cher’s “Believe.” DJ remixes of this song could go crazy. But if I were to think a bit more logically, TikTok would probably lap up “Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2.”
Daniel Banjoko: “Kiss Me Thru the Phone pt 2” goes crazy. Amaarae and PinkPantheress are the perfect match. This collab feels like it was destined to happen, and it delivers in full. Honestly, I can’t believe it took this long, and now I just need more tracks from these two, ASAP.
Moore: “Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2” has the biggest hit potential on the album. The song has a nostalgic, sad party girl vibe that makes it appealing, and it’s also catchy and well-produced. PinkPantheress consistently performs well on platforms like TikTok, and her fanbase overlaps in a really interesting way with Amaarae’s. The collaboration feels organic and exciting, and will likely create a lot of buzz.
OVERALL FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Wale: There is a very visceral quality to how Amaarae expresses desire that I don’t hear very often in a lot of music. It’s abstracted and warped in futuristic textures, but it’s very profoundly human, and it’s always great to hear that even as she advances the sonics of her delivery. I do, however, have an issue with the thematic scope of ‘Black Star.’ I thought there would be overt references to her experiences of navigating her Ghanaian identity, but those references are limited to samples and interpolations. It’s still an incisive listen and a triumph for finding ways to advance music from Africa.
Bamise: It’s Amaarae; she can never go wrong. But for me, this is the album that excites me the least from her catalogue. Other than how bass-heavy some songs on the album are, like “S.M.O.” and “She Is My Drug” among others, it feels similar to other projects I’ve heard from her in a way that’s not exactly refreshing or mind-bending. I may have gotten spoiled by how diverse and eclectic Amaarae’s music tends to be, but I wanted more from her. I expected more gangster, Hip-Hop Amaarae. Thematically, I didn’t get anything that gives the Black Star of Ghana, or black stars are ruling the world. Will I listen again and enjoy every bit of it still, though? Yes, I will.
Shina: So first off, this is a solid body of work. I love the fact that Amaarae stuck with the Dance, Electro-Pop route she was going with throughout the album. The features also played their part, adding their unique touches to each record. I would say, though, a feature I would’ve loved to hear on this project is 070Shake. I think she would have been perfect on “100DRUM,” but we don’t always get what we want, do we? Thematically, I think Amaarae could’ve leaned heavily on her Ghanaian heritage, seeing as the title and cover of the album are a nod to that. Maybe Amaarae just wants us to dance, and that’s what I’m just gonna do, and you should too.