London Listening Sessions

Last week we woke up to shocking and sad news that the controversial juju musician Saint Janet died. The cause of death was not revealed; however, the statement announced that she died after a brief illness. Every blog carried that same news item, hardly furnished with any detail—not quite an obituary. There were speculations that she had diabetes, but these can not be verified. The Association of Juju Musicians, of which Saint Janet was a member, has not published a statement.

Afrobeats is in crisis. Some pundits argue that the twenty-year-old genre began to decline ten years ago with the ‘Afrobeats to the World’ campaign, when it shifted its focus from highlife and other ancestral genres to a less folksy, more worldly, pop-leaning outlook. Afrobeats gained the attention and, more importantly, the patronage of Western audiences, tapping into the novelty broth of its colourful music, culture and cuisine that gave our Nigerian Diaspora pride of place.

To approach the son of a legend who has chosen to ply his father’s trade, one must latch onto low-hanging fruit. Nigerian journalists have approached the work of Paul I.K. Dairo, the son of I.K. Dairo MBE, the superstar who modernised Juju, as a corollary to his father’s towering legacy.

When you get home today, give your warmth to your baby. Consider the following names: IB Oriowo, SF Olowookere, MF Olayinka, IK Dairo. What do they have in common? Double initials and a surname? Grand. Also, they were all musicians—Juju musicians, to be precise—and this style of presenting themselves with two initialled given names was a trend that began in 1950s Nigeria with Isaiah Kehinde Dairo.

It is in the dollar sign, a placeholder for the letter O, the first letter of his name, Ololade. With Asake, there is a reverence for popular Yoruba culture. The most memorable wealthy Yoruba Nollywood character of the 90s was Ololade, Mr Money, in the self-titled film, which traced his arc from poverty to stupendous wealth to downfall. That material opulence, portrayed with dour-faced aplomb by veteran actor Olaiya Igwe, was etched into the imagination of every 90s Yoruba baby.

Professor YK Ajao is dead. Contrary to what The Nation’s Olaitan Ganiu wrote in the conclusion of his brief obituary, Professor YK Ajao was not “a scholar who bridged academia and performance,” he was a Juju musician who established his band in 1974. Born Yekini Ajeigbe in Iseyin, he was fascinated with Juju music accompanying live bands from a young age. Iseyin, like most Yoruba towns, had its own local musicians since Juju music became a staple of Yoruba festivities.

The promotion of Omah Lay’s sophomore record, The Clarity of Mind, has had a messianic arc about it. A return or second coming —something Christ-like —if one considers the release date coinciding with Easter celebrations, the dire economic situation of Afrobeats and of our world writ large; the world as a whole and Afrobeats in particular need a saviour—and here is Stanley offering a soothing voice.

“His parents having seen his interest and dedication for music, forcibly put him in the carpentry profession owing to their financial insufficiency to send him to a secondary school. Unfortunately, Orlando was at his worse at this profession, and his parents had to let him paddle his own canoe.” -From the liner notes of Orlando Owoh and his Omimah Band Volume 4 As a lad, I was fascinated by Dr Orlando Owoh’s voice. The harsh and guttural texture. I thought it was too coarse to be a baritone.

Two days ago, some disturbing comments appeared on the official Instagram page of Wizkid, Africa’s most successful musician of the streaming era. The social media post which tagged @bigbirdkuti, the official Instagram account of controversial musician and son of Fela Kuti, Seun Kuti, was a frontal weigh-in on the recent back-and-forth between Seun Kuti and Wizkid FC, Wizkid’s fanbase. See the posts yourself.

(start from the 23:00 mark) Let me play for you, Julius Olofin’s “Moti Boko De Calabar.” Released circa the 1940s, this Juju Roots song was recorded by bandleader and vocalist Julius Olofin and his Group. The use of the generic ‘group’ (which translates to ‘egbe’ in Yoruba) was typical among early Juju musicians.