The WAJO (Dance) Project afforded me a distinctive and invaluable perspective from which to critically examine the complex and multifaceted challenges faced by Nigerian entertainers, especially those working in the frequently underacknowledged and marginalized roles such as backup vocalists, session musicians, recording engineers, producers, dancers, and choreographers. Through this engagement, I was able to gain an in-depth understanding of the structural, economic, and socio-cultural factors that contribute to the precarity and limited visibility experienced by these professionals within Nigeria’s dynamic entertainment industry. This vantage point also illuminated the intersectional dimensions of labor conditions, recognition, and artistic agency that characterize these occupations, thereby underscoring the broader implications for equitable representation and sustainable development in Nigeria’s creative sectors. This investigation reveals entrenched structural and economic inequities that undermine the sustainability of artistic careers in Nigeria’s contemporary music industry. The following discourse elaborates upon these systemic issues through detailed accounts and critical reflections amassed during the project’s production phase, with the overarching aim to contribute to a deeper understanding of the lived realities shaping Nigeria’s music professionals.

Initial Encounters: Economic Hardships Among Collaborators

At the project’s inception, it became immediately apparent that several of the backup singers and session musicians integral to the recordings were grappling with considerable financial precarity. One of the earliest and most telling incidents involved a request for an advance payment to cover transportation to a scheduled studio session. This took me by surprise, as such pre-payment requests were unfamiliar in my prior experiences within other music industry contexts and initially elicited a sense of reluctance and discomfort. The recording session itself was intended to be conducted alongside the esteemed studio engineer James Elepo—now regrettably departed—whose technical expertise was pivotal to the sound we sought to capture.

This initial episode was emblematic of deeper financial vulnerabilities faced by supporting artists, whose income streams often lack stability or predictability. Such vulnerabilities became increasingly apparent as the project unfolded; after compensating the guitarist generously for his studio contributions, he unexpectedly solicited advance payments for future performances scheduled months or years ahead. Although initially disconcerting, this demand underscored the tenuous financial circumstances that compel musicians to seek income security well in advance. These encounters starkly contrasted with expectations formed from more established music economies, highlighting the precarious economic landscape for Nigerian artisanal contributors.

A subsequent field visit to Nigeria to engage personally with the team intensified my awareness and concern. Witnessing firsthand the socio-economic conditions under which these artists operate, I experienced profound disappointment that, at this stage of their careers, many had yet to achieve the financial recognition and stability seemingly warranted by their talent and professionalism. In retrospect, I acknowledge and regret my earlier skepticism toward the advance payment requests, recognizing these as symptomatic of broader systemic deficiencies rather than isolated exceptions.

Broader Context: Economic Environment and Industry Practices

The precarious financial realities confronting Nigerian musicians, particularly those beyond front-line performers, are intimately connected to the evolving structure of the music production ecosystem, both locally and globally. The widespread adoption of digital production techniques and synthesized instrumentation has materially transformed cost structures and artistic practices. While technologically efficient, this digital paradigm often marginalizes live instrumentalists and vocalists, whose traditional roles have been diminished in favor of cost-effective pre-recorded or synthesized alternatives. This dynamic exacerbates financial instability within these support sectors, as opportunities for regular employment and fair remuneration shrink.

Moreover, the compensation framework for backup singers in Nigeria starkly diverges from models employed in well-established music markets such as the United States. Whereas Nigerian backup vocalists typically receive one-off upfront payments without any participation in royalty income, their American counterparts benefit from structured industry mechanisms designed to secure ongoing compensation. For example, organizations such as the American Federation of Musicians (AFM) and the Screen Actors Guild‐American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFTRA) administer intellectual property rights and distribute royalties generated from digital streaming and international licensing. Such institutional protections ensure that background vocalists and session musicians receive residual payments, thereby fostering sustainable career prospects.

In Nigeria, the absence of a robust, unified musicians’ union or effective collective management organization leaves backup singers, session musicians, engineers, and producers vulnerable. These artists frequently work under informal arrangements lacking enforceable contracts or clarity around their rights to royalties or other residual income. Instead, initial payments are often the sole financial rewards, with subsequent revenues from labels or collection societies accruing almost exclusively to lead artists and producers. This imbalance not only diminishes livelihoods but also diminishes incentives for talented musicians to sustain long-term engagement within the industry.

Challenges for Technical Professionals: Engineers and Producers

The plight of technical personnel such as recording engineers and producers parallels that of vocalists and instrumentalists, albeit with distinct nuances. Within industry contexts like the United States, producers commonly negotiate “points,” or percentages of master recording royalties, in addition to flat fees for their labor. Engineers, traditionally compensated by fixed fees, have experienced significant gains in royalty rights following legislative interventions such as the U.S. Music Modernization Act (MMA), which explicitly allocates digital performance royalties to producers, mixers, and engineers. These systemic frameworks enhance income streams and professional recognition for those shaping the sonic character of recordings.

Conversely, Nigerian engineers generally depend on express written agreements—often formalized via “Letters of Direction” issued by artists—to claim shares of royalty revenues. In the absence of such documentation, digital royalties rarely reach these critical contributors. This contractual opacity is further complicated by the lack of industry-standard agreements and poor legal enforcement, resulting in many highly skilled technical professionals receiving limited or no compensation beyond upfront payments.

Furthermore, it is crucial to recognize that royalties for producers and engineers are contingent upon proactive negotiation and clear contractual stipulations prior to release. Producers typically earn royalties linked to master recording rights rather than musical composition rights unless simultaneously credited as songwriters. This distinction is significant for revenue division and complicates equitable distribution in contexts lacking comprehensive contracts.

Consequences for the Industry: Declining Veteran Expertise

The cumulative effect of these economic, structural, and institutional shortcomings manifests poignantly in the shrinking presence of veteran technical professionals in Nigeria’s music industry. Many pioneering recording engineers and producers from the vibrant Nigerian music scene of the 1990s have either exited active participation or been marginalized due to insufficient remuneration and career support. This attrition jeopardizes the preservation of technical expertise and artistic continuity essential for the industry’s cultural vitality.

Institutional Gaps and the Need for Reform

Fundamentally, the financial and professional inequities described are inseparable from Nigeria’s broader absence of transparent institutional frameworks governing collective rights management and artist representation. Without credible musicians’ unions, collective management organizations, or standardized royalty collection and distribution mechanisms, the contributions of backup singers, session musicians, engineers, and producers remain undervalued and inadequately compensated. This systemic neglect not only imperils individual livelihoods but also undermines the foundations of a sustainable and equitable music industry capable of nurturing future generations.

To address these challenges, concerted efforts are required to establish industry-wide governance structures that codify rights, ensure transparent royalty administration, and facilitate contractual literacy among artists. Such frameworks should draw inspiration from successful international models, adapting best practices to the Nigerian cultural and economic context. Equally critical is fostering a culture of solidarity and mutual recognition within the music community—initiatives that consciously uplift veteran artists and technical professionals who have historically underpinned the industry’s development but remain financially marginalized.

The WAJO (Dance) Project: Affirming Legacy and Advocating Solidarity

The WAJO (Dance) Project aspires not only to generate an artistically compelling work but also to serve as a platform for raising awareness of these pervasive structural issues confronting independent Nigerian entertainers. It is an intentional affirmation of the value of veteran artists—figures whose substantial contributions have shaped the nation’s rich musical heritage yet whose commercial success and recognition remain limited or elusive. By foregrounding the voices and experiences of these pioneers, the project advocates for a paradigm of inclusivity, solidarity, and reciprocal support within the creative community, emphasizing that progress hinges on honoring those who laid the groundwork.

Moreover, this initiative exemplifies resilience amidst adversity. It illuminates the multifaceted challenges faced by independent artists—from resource constraints and technical skills deficits to the complexities of negotiating industry gatekeeping and maintaining diasporic networks. Through collaboration and sustained engagement, WAJO highlights pathways toward preserving Nigeria’s artistic legacy in the face of daunting systemic obstacles.

Conclusion

The experiences documented through the WAJO (Dance) Project render a microcosm of the broader systemic challenges besetting Nigeria’s music industry. The precarious economic conditions endured by backup singers, instrumentalists, recording engineers, and producers reflect not merely localized hardships but reveal structural deficits characterized by inadequate institutional protections, lack of formalized contractual practices, and minimal access to royalty streams. Without strategic reforms and collective advocacy to establish transparent, equitable, and enforceable frameworks for artist rights and remuneration, these indispensable contributors will continue to bear the brunt of an industry that undervalues their artistic labor.

To ensure the sustained vitality and global competitiveness of Nigerian music, it is imperative to confront these systemic inequities and champion models of governance and solidarity that uphold fairness and dignity. Only through such comprehensive efforts can the country’s rich cultural heritage be preserved and its artistic community empowered to thrive across generations. The WAJO (Dance) Project thus stands as both an artistic endeavor and a call to action, inviting stakeholders at all levels to recognize and address the complex realities defining independent artistry in contemporary Nigeria.

Aguike, also known as Alla-bama, is a singer, songwriter, music producer, and sound Engineer.

For those who choose to overlook the realities confronting the Performing Musicians Employers Association of Nigeria (PMAN), I offer a historical perspective grounded in firsthand experience and sustained activism. Having been involved in PMAN’s affairs for an extended period, my commitment has always been to advocate for a more transparent, accountable, and effective association. My activism predates the tenure of Ugly Okafor; I have long voiced concerns regarding PMAN’s leadership. Over the years, I have documented extensively the multifaceted challenges facing the nation’s largest association representing Black musicians globally. These writings could well serve as the foundation for a compelling dramatized series, chronicling the struggles and missed opportunities of a pivotal institution, essential knowledge for future generations of artists and administrators alike.

To contextualize this history, it is crucial to recall the tenure of the late Femi Lasode—may his soul rest in peace. Lasode was an accomplished individual from a prominent family with substantial business interests. Before his presidency, he managed his father’s multi-million naira enterprise, a position indicating significant business acumen and leadership capability. Yet, shortly after the esteemed Sunny Ade stepped down as PMAN president, Lasode was persuaded by a cadre of influencers—including the late Ogbonaya Amadi and the late Harry Mosco—to assume the presidency of the association. It is important to highlight that I had already distanced myself from PMAN by then, as the association’s trajectory no longer aligned with my aspirations for Nigeria’s music community. In the 1990s, despite some musicians gaining commercial recognition, many were struggling financially, barely meeting basic needs, and PMAN lacked the institutional support mechanisms to protect or advance their livelihoods.

Lasode’s tenure centered significantly on establishing the Musicians Hall of Fame, a well-intentioned but ultimately limited initiative. I publicly criticized this focus, reasoning that had previous presidents fulfilled their responsibilities diligently, Lasode would not have had to relinquish his successful business career to step into an association beleaguered by systemic dysfunction and internal politics. While Lasode was a fundamentally principled and competent man, he was arguably ill-prepared for the complexities and demands of steering such a volatile organization. Tragically, this acceptance coincided with his financial decline, illustrating the personal toll of inheriting a mismanaged institution.

More disheartening is the association’s response—or lack thereof—when Lasode’s health deteriorated seriously, and he required international medical treatment beyond his financial means. The association remained conspicuously silent and inactive at a time when solidarity and support were critical. Only after Lasode’s passing did factions emerge, soliciting funds. Such posthumous gestures raise profound ethical questions: for whom precisely are these funds intended?

This lamentable episode is symptomatic of broader, chronic challenges afflicting PMAN. Those who endured these turbulent years remain steadfast in their efforts to restore the association’s functionality and to ensure it serves the interests of all musicians, especially the vulnerable and overlooked. However, despite prolonged stagnation and repeated crises of leadership, some members continue to engage in opaque maneuvers, seeking external “saviors” to rescue PMAN from its prolonged state of dysfunction. These individuals often court wealthy or influential figures, coaxing them to assume leadership roles. A recent encounter with a woman identified as “Hajiya,”—who claimed the presidency without any official standing or legitimacy—epitomizes the problematic dynamics within the body. She told me she was the authentic PMAN’s President!

This episode reflects a recurring pattern within PMAN, wherein actors with little grounding in the realities of effective leadership or the association’s operational demands vie for PMAN presidency. Their motivations frequently appear less aligned with genuine commitment to advancing the association’s mission and more oriented toward the social capital and prestige conferred by holding the presidential title. In the Nigerian socio-cultural milieu, where honorifics and formal titles carry substantial weight, these roles are often viewed as symbols of status rather than platforms for service. The pursuit of such positions, divorced from meritocratic principles, exacerbates the instability and effective leadership deficits that have plagued PMAN for decades.

The implications of this trend are severe. It casts doubt on the integrity of leadership selection processes and raises urgent questions about how legitimacy is established, conferred, and maintained within the association. For PMAN to transform into a sustainable and professionally managed entity, it must institute transparent, merit-based leadership criteria. Equally important is fostering a culture that prioritizes the collective welfare of members and the advancement of the music industry, rather than individual ambition and external perceptions of influence.

Let me back up a little bit, and let’s consider, as a case study, Ugly Okafor. Okafor was cognizant of Femi Lasode’s critical health condition before his death, but he miserly donated a mere 150,000 naira after he died. This is particularly egregious given Okafor’s control over significant association assets and funds—most notably, his unilateral sale of 1.3 hectares of PMAN land, the receipt of over 200 million naira payment from Olusco, and management involvement of millions of naira belonging to PMAN. Despite these considerable resources under his stewardship, Okafor failed to mobilize meaningful support for a former president in dire need. This dereliction is emblematic of deeper systemic problems: mismanagement, lack of accountability, and misplaced priorities.

The underlying truth is that had PMAN been governed with genuine integrity, capable leadership, and accountability, tragedies such as Lasode’s neglect would have been preventable. The failure to protect and support founding and past members has compromised not only individual lives but the institution’s reputation and efficacy. In the absence of functional governance structures, the association is left vulnerable to stories of neglect, opportunism, and posthumous appeals for charity—none of which reflect the robust, professional body PMAN ought to be.

To address a common misconception, some have claimed I was once an ally of Ugly Okafor. It is imperative to clarify that while his tenacity and street-savvy maneuvers have allowed him to maintain a grip on power, his leadership is characterized by greed, callousness, and corruption. Without these traits, his legacy might have warranted recognition as an accomplished administrator. Nonetheless, he has mastered the art of political survival, manipulating access, manipulating funds, and engaging in patronage networks to sustain his influence. His persistence is less a testament to effective leadership and more an indication of systemic weaknesses that allow entrenched actors to dominate the association’s affairs.

The depth of Okafor’s entrenchment is profound. Efforts to dislodge him require more than rhetoric; they demand strategic interventions grounded in institutional reform, legal frameworks, and the mobilization of a principled constituency committed to change. The reality is that PMAN’s fight for renewal is not merely a contest of personalities but a struggle to reclaim the association’s mandate as a credible advocate and protector of musicians’ interests.

In conclusion, the continual cycle of crisis within PMAN is symptomatic of broader socio-political and institutional dysfunctions afflicting many professional associations in Nigeria. Moving beyond this impasse requires a concerted commitment to transparent governance, meritocratic leadership selection, ethical stewardship of resources, and the establishment of sustainable support mechanisms for members past and present. Only through such comprehensive reforms can PMAN fulfill its promise as the largest and most influential association of Black musicians worldwide and truly serve those who dedicate their lives to preserving and advancing Nigeria’s rich musical heritage. Until then, the unending drama that has come to define PMAN’s narrative will persist, to the detriment of its members and the cultural legacy it ought to protect.

Rest in peace, Femi Lasode.

Aguike is the publisher of New YorkGM

Late Gospel artist Osinachi’s husband, Peter Nwachukwu, has been handed a death sentence by Justice Nwosu-Iheme of the FCT High Court for the culpable homicide of his wife on April 8, 2022.

Nwachukwu was found guilty after a thorough trial where the prosecution presented 17 witnesses and numerous documents as evidence. The defendant also testified in his defense and called witnesses to support his case.

In a plea for leniency, Nwachukwu’s counsel urged the court to consider mitigating factors. However, the prosecution emphasized the need for justice to be served.

Ultimately, Nwachukwu was sentenced to death by hanging on Count 1, with varying prison terms and fines on other counts. This verdict comes as a form of closure for the family and fans of Osinachi, seeking justice for her untimely death. (NAN)

Growing up, I learned that the popular Nigerian music style originates from the traditional sound of palm wine music. It wasn’t until I joined Yom Yem & The Band Of Distinction that I learned how this genre evolved into Highlife. In 1989, I played the keyboard during a recording at the Nigerian Television Authority Headquarters in Victoria Island, Lagos, where some of Nigeria’s greatest Highlife legends performed in various episodes. Witnessing them up close during rehearsals allowed me to learn the chord progressions characteristic of Highlife music. Playing the keyboards while standing behind Victor Olaiya, I.K. Dario, Eddy Okonto, Dan Mariya Jos, Victor Uwafor, and many other greats was an honor and a privilege. My bandleader, Yemi Ogunsanya, also known as Yom Yem, produced that remarkable show.

My band, Yom Yem and the Band of Distinction performed songs made famous by artists such as Bobby Benson, Victor Olaiya, Eddy Okonta, Fela Kuti, Roy Chicago, Celestine Ukwu, Joe Mensah, Rex Lawson, and others. We also performed International contemporary songs. Among the songs that stood out during our performances were “Bonsue” by the late Joe Mensah, “Love Mu Adaure” by the late Rex Lawson, “Taxi Driver” by Bobby Benson, and “Oni Dodo, Oni Moimoi” by the late Fela Kuti and the Koola Lobitos Highlife.

Fela Kuti, once a band boy of the late Victor Olaiya, transformed his musical style. Instead of adhering to Highlife’s conventional three major triad chords, he ventured into Afro Jazz, which was rooted in a minor-triad and major chord. For instance, “Lady” featured only a two-chord pattern, as did “Palava. ” Most of his songs were composed using just two chords. These two chords’ rhythmic interplay, heavy percussion, and prominent horn lines made his music distinctive.

While some instrumentalists might view his style as overly simple or essential, Fela’s intricate solos and chord progressions showcased his immense talent, firmly establishing him as one of Africa’s greatest musicians. When the late Fela transitioned away from Highlife, he surpassed his contemporaries, including those who had taught him to play music. (When discussing the transformation and evolution of the late Fela Kuti’s music, we often overlook the crucial role played by Tony Allen, the Nigerian and French drummer, composer, songwriter, and musical director who helped shape his sound. While some may attribute Fela’s accomplishments solely to him, it is important to recognize that Tony Allen crafted the beats primarily rooted in Soca, Calypso, Modern Highlife, and Jazz. )

Similar to Beyoncé, the late Fela Anikulapo Kuti did not confine himself to Highlife; he became a legend when he revolutionized his style, incorporating a Calypso kick drum pattern, a steady snare, and a variety of indigenous percussion instruments. This shift forever altered his musical signature. Breaking away from the status quo allows one to become an actual creator endowed with profound musical insight. By evolving and transforming your style, you ensure your enduring presence in the industry, regardless of the circumstances. While the late Fela Kuti remained devoted to AfroJazz until his last breath, it remains uncertain whether Beyoncé will stay committed to her new style. There is nothing preventing her from exploring other genres and producing hits regardless of the music she chooses to create.

Growing up, I also closely observed how my uncles and older sisters dressed in high heels while the men wore bongo trousers and heeled shoes. During that time, men emulated their favorite musicians, making waves in the industry. It was an era dominated by Musical bands, with solo artists being less prominent. I watched as my older siblings prepared every weekend to attend shows by their favorite bands, a hallmark of the 1970s.

Some well-known bands from that era included The Apostles, Sweet Breeze, One World, Semi-Colon, The Winds, Original Winds, The Funkies, and Super Winds, all based in Eastern Nigeria. I noticed that while my uncles enjoyed music from these bands, their songs often sounded quite similar. Nevertheless, Sweet Breeze became my favorite. I later learned that the popular music style at the time was funk. The late Spud Nathan stood out as a breakout star among these bands. His music moved me to tears; he was undeniably talented but sadly passed away far too young. Unfortunately, none of these bands succeeded in carrying their legacy into the next generation, as they all faded away.

In 1978, Bongo Ikwue released the megahit “Still Searching,” Cliff David led Cloud-7 with the superhit “Beautiful Woman.” Their music offered a fresh perspective to the Nigerian pop scene, marked by various beautiful releases. In 1980, Chris Okotie burst onto the scene with a thunderous track entitled “I Need Someone.” I was in Ilorin when he released this hit, and I even attended his concert as a teenager. It was my first concert experience, and I was struck by Okotie’s musical style, which blended Western influences. His album included a cover of James Taylor’s “In My Mind, I’m Gone to Carolina.”

During that time, artists like Felix Liberty, Jide Obi, and Dizzy K were all striving to make their mark. Despite their efforts, none surpassed or matched the threshold set by Chris Okotie. While they tried, his impact ultimately remained unmatched. Oby Onyioha also had hits, including “Enjoy Your Life” and “I Want to Feel Your Love.” It wasn’t until 1986, with the release of “One Love” by Onyeka Onwenu, that the Nigerian pop music scene truly ignited with energy.

To Be Continued

Allah-Bama is a New York City Based Musician.

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