Is Afrobeats Music Entering Its Illuminati Era?

The Afrobeats Edit is a column by Lagos-based culture journalist Nelson C.J. that turns a celebratory and critical eye towards Afrobeats and the many subcultures including and beyond music, that have emerged from it.
Three Afrobeats musicians on stage Tiwa Savage Asake and Rema
Getty Images/Treatment by Liz Coulbourn

On May 1, 2014, seven Afrobeats artists — some emerging, others more established and all of them signed to Mavins Records — came together to release an Afropop banger called “Dorobucci.”

Produced by Don Jazzy, founder of Mavins Records, “Dorobucci” quickly triggered a cultural reset. Not only did it feature heavyweight talents like D’Prince, Dr SID, Tiwa Savage, and Don Jazzy, the club-ready tune also ushered in some of that era’s most vibrant talents: Di’ja, Reekado Banks, and Korede Bello. The production was fresh, with fast drums and even faster basslines that mimicked instruments from an Igbo Ogene band while bearing a heavy Afro-pop influence.

Not long after it was released, “Dorobucci” outgrew its initial form as a fantastic record and blossomed into a cultural entity. People used the song’s title to describe things they found cool, and sometimes added the first four letters “Doro” as a prefix to things they wanted to come across as cool; their names, for example, or what they were up to at a particular time (ex. Doro-Nelson or Doro-chilling).

Amidst all of this great cultural reception, however, “Dorobucci” was plagued with rumors of being an official declaration of the Mavins family’s ties to occult practices, most notably, the Illuminati. And owing to Nigeria’s strong conservative and religious culture, these rumors were easy to believe. Although the rumor aided the expansion of the song’s already immense popularity and set up the artists under Mavins Records for their follow-up hit collaborations such as 2015’s “Jantamanta” and “Adaobi,” it was the first time a group of Nigerian artists would be accused of being a part of the Illuminati on such a wide scale.

The artists all had supposedly telltale signs that made those rumors stick. They weren’t afraid to experiment with their music or style they regularly made up slang that eventually became core parts of the cultural ecosystem; they often used symbolism (the triangle hand sign for instance) traditionally associated with the Illuminati in their pictures and music videos; and most importantly, they made ridiculously good music, time and time again. It all seemed too good to be true — Don Jazzy was producing and working with some of the country’s best producers, and the artists under his roster all had unique musical languages that he often successfully paired together to make magic. Who, or what, was pulling the strings?

Almost a decade after the “Dorobucci” craze has died down, Afrobeats is now experiencing another wave of Illuminati-fication. The trend of accusing Afrobeats artists of occultic or demonic affiliations is back on the rise. The most recent example of this can be found in the accusations that followed superstar artist Rema right after his debut concert at the O2 Arena in London. During his concert, the “Calm Down” singer donned a red mask inspired by Benin sculptures, which are native to the city of Benin in Nigeria that Rema hails from.

In other parts of the concert, he stood on the back of a life-size bat to perform and made a dazzling entrance on a fake horse. To the people who have known Rema for some time, these stage props are simply a manifestation of his artistic persona. In his artworks and cover art, it is commonplace to find these elements, bats, and rock-and-roll adjacent artifacts in his work. But to others, it was an unprecedentedly dark shift in the work of an Afrobeats artist. Some simply called it “satanic.” Not only were those accusations ignorant of important Nigerian history, they were also a heavy misunderstanding of Rema’s vision as an artist.

But these rumors swirling around Rema have long been bubbling under the surface. A couple of months ago, I came across some videos on TikTok also accusing Rema of using and pushing anti-Christ messaging on his latest album. Rema, who recently scored his first top 10 hit on the Billboard Hot 100 for his collaboration with Selena Gomez on his song “Calm Down,” was accused of pushing this agenda through an illustration on the cover of his debut album “Rave & Roses.” The illustration in question is a house flipped upside down with a sign of the cross on its body.

I also stumbled on videos of Bnxn (FKA Buju) also being accused of placing demonic emblems, like the eye of Baphomet and a few other drawings, in the video of his song “Cold Outside” featuring Timaya. And a quick glance through this Twitter thread will lead you to other Illuminati-adjacent theories involving artists like Asake, Tiwa Savage and Adekunle Gold.

On the one hand, this is a good thing. The rise of Illuminati allegations has often been a positive sign pointing to the unorthodoxy of an artist’s work, the diversity of their catalog and their willingness to explore various inspirations for their artistry. This, the unending experimentation and pursuit of inspiration from different sources, to redefine our sounds and craft unique artistic imagery, is what makes Afrobeats the dynamic genre it is today.

What’s more? It didn’t start today. In the late 2000s artists like Konga, Terry G, Goldie,and several others were making new, irreverent sounds while crafting interesting personalities. Terry G leaned into an eccentric persona, creating songs with fevered, hyper energy. He was uncontainable and nobody knew what to do with him. At first, it was his dreads, laid flat on his head with yellowed ends. Then there was the matter of his voice: gruff, and loud as it blended rap with Afro-pop, chante-chante with dancehall. He would break out in a scream in the middle of a song and in his music videos you will find him moving around as though he has been possessed.

Konga on the other hand, made music that felt truly camp. He wore his hair mostly bald leaving only a few patches of hair left dyed anything from green to gold. His beats combined the basics of Afropop with unpredictable stops and gaps and his music videos were always theatrical. Goldie Harvey, before her passing in 2013, was the queen of theatrics. With her signature honey-blond hair, she channeled pop-diva energy alongside an innate eccentricity that bled into flashy music videos and unpredictable fashion choices.

These artists were working at a time when mainstream music was, well, mainstream — made by artists like 2Baba, D’banj, Wande Coal, and others who were socially conventional. Yet they stuck with their eccentricities and eventually brought them to the forefront. They also paved the way. Terry G for artists like Bella Shmurda and Zlatan, Goldie for Yemi Alade and Seyi Shay. Many decades later and the Afrobeats landscape continues to see the rise and rise of eccentric artists, but still, Afrobeats artists aren’t afforded enough range.

For instance, when Asake, an artist known for making street-pop bangers laced with snippets of his spiritually charged personality, released Yoga, a slower, more intensely spiritual track, many found it weird.

It wasn’t a song people could dance to. The beginning of the song kicked off with chants taken from its sample song “Mo Capitaine” by Michel Legris and in the music video, Asake wasn’t doing legworks or inventing a new dance step, he was swaying and swinging his head as though he was in the middle of a trance. The song and the video are somber but creatively stunning. It is a song you sit with at the beach or early in the morning on your balcony. It is a song you absent-mindedly sing along to as you ride home from work on a danfo. The song is an imploration, a mantra, a guide, and yet it seemed to listeners that it was highly uncharacteristic of the artist who made it.

It is not a stretch to draw a pattern between these Illuminati accusations with the expectations of what kind of music or art Afrobeats artists get to make. The larger conversation here is the shock, the incredulity that these artists would want to make anything outside of club-ready bangers they are usually known for; that they would want to create an aesthetic language for themselves, whether it be quirky, camp, gore, or anything else. Expecting and sometimes demanding a linear, straight-formed artistry devoid of invention from Afrobeats artists constricts their ability to surprise. It limits their ability to return to their fans with fresh and unpredictable elements from their music and their imagery. This lean expectation also completely misunderstands the very basic sensibility of Afrobeats as an ever-shifting sound with only a few unchanging elements prone to the highest form of reinvention.

The rising pattern of putting Afrobeats artists in strict boxes, and expecting them only to provide fast-paced music, is a refusal to see them as full-formed artists with layered complexities. It also betrays the humanity of these artists for whom music is an effort beyond vanity. Beyond that, however, if Afrobeats is truly now in another phase of its Illuminati era, then welcome. We are all in for an exciting ride.

The Afrobeats Edit: What to Watch, Read, and Listen to This Week:

Watch: Big Love. Starring Bimbo Ademoye and Timini Egbuson is a stirring Nigerian rom-com that intelligently interrogates the intersections of love and social expectations. It follows a single mother who falls in love with a conservative Nigerian family opposed to single motherhood (a matter that still causes controversy in Nigeria). The story is light in the right places and gut-wrenching where necessary. The acting is stellar and occasionally over-the-top in the way that make Nigerian films so delicious to watch. This film at its end, will very likely draw a tear from you. You can watch Big Love on Amazon Prime.

Read: Feel Good: An Anthology Of Stories About Queer Joy as its title indicates is simply about queer joy. In here, you’ll find stories written by some of Nigeria’s most promising and well-established writers situating queer stories within situations where they are often never available. In one story, a random hookup leads to happily ever after. In another, a street boy makes a home out of another despite the prickly harshness of their world. The stories here will hold you, they will give you an insight into the aspirations and hopes for the current status of being queer and Nigerian. Most of all, they will sit with you and mirror our most pressing universal desires with unwavering tenderness.

Listen: This week’s playlist is dedicated to the Afrobeats artists who have never been afraid to go against the grain.