Nigeria in the 70s – A nation fresh off the throes of a civil war, grappling with rapid socio-political changes and the continued weight of its colonial legacies. From Lagos and Ibadan to Kaduna, Anambra, and Enugu, a new cultural and creative movement was emerging. In this era, when the popular music scene was championed by larger-than-life male personalities heralding Highlife, Funk, Rock, Juju, and Afrobeat, The Lijadu Sisters offered something decidedly different. 

“Music is a message,” Yeye Taiwo Lijadu, one-half of the identical twin music mavericks states in the 1979 documentary, Kokonbe: The Nigerian Pop Music Scene. The confidence in her voice is as firm as her conviction. “It is our responsibility as musicians to speak to the people about what is wrong and what can be better.” And as one of the country’s fiercest mega pop stars, The Lijadu Sisters – comprised of Yeye Taiwo and the late Kehinde Lijadu – spared no effort in speaking and singing their thoughts. 

With folksy psychedelic Rock, Apala, Reggae, Soul, and Afrobeat-infused grooves, The Lijadu Sisters pioneered a space for women in the music industry as the first and most popular female-led band in Nigeria. Layered within their irresistible jams were calls (in English and Yoruba) to society (their fans and foes alike) to face its injustices and iniquities, particularly towards women. Their albums; ‘Urede,’ ‘Mother Africa,’ ‘Danger,’ ‘Sunshine,’ and ‘Horizon Unlimited’ were political musings, protests, and prayers in the golden age of African music. 

Born in Jos in 1948 and raised in Ibadan, the sisters’ musical career began at the age of 10 after viewing the British Comedy, The Belles of St. Trinian’s with their mother. Following the inspiring experience, they began drawing influences from Jazz, Soul, and Rock thanks to their mother’s record collection which included the likes of Elvis Presley, Ella Fitzgerald, the Beatles and Cliff Richard. They were later introduced to African musicians like Yusufu Olatunji, Miriam Makeba, and Haruna Isola. 

By 1968, their limitless musical ear and relentless spirit had taken them from session vocalists at record label, Decca Records, to landing their debut single, “Iya Mi Jowo (Mother, Please),” which is “sung by a daughter who wants to know what she has done to make her mother so distant and angry,” as Yeye Taiwo would explain years later. In 1974, they released their debut album ‘Urede’ and signed a four-album deal with Afrodisia, an imprint of Decca Records. The Lijadu Sister continuously captivated listeners with low-pulse, hypnotic singing and often playful, put-you-in-your-place wit. Their power, however, rested in their soft yet blunt, impossible-to-ignore focus, as opposed to the brash and in-your-face manner of, say their second cousin and Afrobeat pioneer, Fela Kuti who approached his music with fiery grit. For the sisters, no topic was off limits. 

Songs about sex or critical commentary on the government continue to be a part of music culture. Think Tyla’s “Water” or Asa’s “Jailer.” But as vocal young women living in a military-led, male-centred, conservative Nigeria, The Lijadu Sisters’ bravery was unprecedented. They made their lovers aware of their sexual desires on the sultry number, “You Can Touch Me If You Want,” which they’d often perform on tour. They’d also take aim at the government and elites, asking the people to “Get out!, Fight!” against the trouble and shortcomings caused by them as the cult classic, “Orere Elejigbo,” suggests. On the cover of their 1976 album, ‘Danger,’ the two are depicted as superheroes forever ready to protect the vulnerable. Throughout the project, they respond directly to the socio-political issues plaguing Nigeria at the time. The titular track warns of an impending danger lurking in the shadows of the country’s instability, corruption, and the widening gap between the rich and poor, all of which are unfortunately, true to this day. So it’s fitting that decades later, the duo’s striking harmonies and forward-thinking ideologies have crystalised them in Nigerian history as the voices of liberation inspiring newer generations. 

“I think the Lijadu Sisters were the first alté girls,” Ghanaian-American singer Amaare points out in a conversation with Rolling Stone. “I think that they helped me build an ethos of how I wanted to operate as an African woman and as an African artist, an African rock star.” Back in 2021, Ayra Starr who had sampled the Lijadu Sisters’ “Orere Elejigbo” on her single, “Sare” off her breakout EP ‘Away,’ spoke about the sisters saying, “The way men carry Fela, that’s the same way I want women to carry these women that have worked so hard and people have forgotten their name.”

The path of a pioneer is often a lonely one. For eclectic, outspoken young women existing in an era of military rule and working in a developing industry, there comes a price for revolution. Misunderstood, misjudged and mistreated, The Lijadu Sisters faced harassment from the government – one incident taking place during FESTAC ‘77 when a soldier struck a then seven-month pregnant Yeye Taiwo on her stomach with the butt of his rifle. “Women suffer at the hands of men in Nigeria,” Lijadu explains in the Jeremy Marre-directed documentary as the duo rehearse while taking turns to feed Yeye Taiwo’s baby.

‘Horizon Unlimited,’ the flowery 1979 album, would be the last from the sisters’ genre-defining catalogue. By then, their relationship with Decca/Afrodisia had soured with Yeye Taiwo and Kehinde feeling exploited by the label. “They want you to keep owing them, and as far as they are concerned, you can keep owing them and keep paying back until you die,” they say, describing the label’s lack of care for their artistry and contributions to the industry. It was a familiar tale for artists of the time signed to multinational record companies who were more interested in making profit than genuinely developing local talent. “You should be the baby to this company because you are actually making the money for them, but the other side of the coin is that they don’t care.” 

For decades following the end of their deal with Decca/Afrodisia, the sisters flew under the radar as excitement surrounding them slowly fizzled out. Due to limited protection, continuous copyright infringements plagued their work, with over 50 infringements found today, including Ayra Starr’s “Sare” and Nas’ never-released “Life’s Gone Low.”

Having regained control of their catalogue in 2021, The Lijadu Sisters hope to correct the years of injustice via a multi-record partnership with Numero Group. All five of the siblings’ trailblazing albums, will be reissued alongside previously unheard recordings, unearthed rarities, and new rediscoveries. The landmark campaign kicked off with the reissue of ‘Horizon Unlimited’ earlier in the year. “I think one of the most exciting things about the reintroduction of ‘Horizon Unlimited’ is the fact that young folk love our music, and are surprised at the upbeat tempo, and the lyrics, which are not only of today, but also very futuristic as well,” Yeye Taiwo Lijadu said in a press release. 

The Lijadu Sisters’ legacy is one set apart by their unwavering resistance and dedication to using art as a reflection of society. They showed the world that sometimes revolution takes two Nigerian women singing in harmony and refusing to be silenced or relegated to the backburners of history.