Buju Banton, Afrobeats, and the Myth of Betrayal

 Why Nigerian music didn't abandon reggae's roots—it just grew its own

I watched Buju Banton’s comment on Afrobeats, in which he criticized the genre for its focus on money and mundane things. The video triggered a series of profound thoughts in me. In the end, I concluded that it is wrong to feel that Afrobeats betrayed Jamaican reggae’s ideology of promoting freedom, social justice and, ultimately, the dignity of Africa.

However, I think that his conclusion was somewhat hasty, even though, as one of the artists guided by that ideology, he is bound to feel betrayed.

Afrobeats rose naturally. There was no conference where attendees decided on a new genre and the trajectory it was supposed to take. Afrobeats was shaped like any other genre—by the circumstances of the locality where it was born. It is an exposition of the lifestyle of the people who founded it. On the other hand, reggae ideology is often summed up in the word “consciousness,” which refers to awareness of the issues to which freedom is entwined.

In addition to recalling the dynamics that shaped the coloration of a genre, Afrobeats reflects a reggae influence. In classical terms, the biggest name in Nigerian contemporary music is Tuface. His greatest song—the one that made him popular—is titled "African Queen." By the title alone, it is a song that promotes the dignity of Africa. In the song, he uses a Jamaican slang, tingalingalin. This is why some Jamaicans don’t even know that he isn’t one of them. Tuface himself insists that his songs lean toward the reggae side. He was part of a trio called the Plantashun Boyz. Eventually, the other two members took a reggae trajectory that was even more mainstream than Tuface’s. Unfortunately, they never enjoyed Tuface’s level of success.

Other Nigerian artists with Jamaican influences in their music include Timaya and Patoranking, who both sing dancehall. In Uganda, for instance, many music fans don’t even know that Timaya is Nigerian. Millions of fans there actually believe he is Jamaican. In Patoranking’s case, even his name reflects Jamaican dancehall colouration, inspired by Shabba Ranks, Cutty Ranks, and others. His music is also dancehall in character, with examples like "Suh Different" and "Girlie O." Timaya made history by becoming the first African artist to perform at Reggae Sumfest in Montego Bay, Jamaica, in 2017.

In conclusion, I want to reiterate that the character of a genre is influenced spontaneously and will always reflect issues from the locality in which it was invented. Even though Nigerian artists may not have fully embraced the ideology of roots reggae, they have ended up mirroring Jamaican musical influence in Afrobeats. Therefore, claiming that Jamaican reggae was betrayed or ostracized is taking it too far.

 

If P-Square Had Been Born in Anambra, not Jos

P-Square. Image source: ai-generated

P-Square changed Nigerian music forever. You cannot tell the story of Afrobeats without them. But here is a question that has been on my mind for a while: would they have been this big if they were born in Anambra, where their father came from, instead of Jos, where they actually grew up?

My short answer? No. They would still have been famous, but they would not have been P-Square. Let me explain.

I started thinking about this properly when Rude Boy dropped that new song with Sarkodie, Blessed and Alive. In it, he talks about starting out in J-Town—Jos. And I felt that. I am from Jos, and when artists like him shout out our city, it hits different. It brings back the pride.

Now, many people do not know this, but P-Square came from a rich family. They lived around Busa Buji Street in Jos. Their father owned Twins Bread—a big bakery at Jenta Adamu. Back in the day, those Peugeot 404 vans with "Twins Bread" written on them were everywhere—on the Bukuru Expressway, heading to Nasarawa, southern Kaduna, all over. That man was not poor. Not even close.

Why does that matter? Because money gives you room to dream. It means you can afford studio time. You can buy equipment. You can fail and try again without your whole family starving. A lot of talented people never get that chance. P-Square had it.

Of course, compared to the millions they eventually made from music, their father's wealth looked small. That is just life—water in a cup versus water in an overhead tank. But any father would be proud to see his children outgrow his own success.

Now, let us talk about environment. The East gave us Highlife legends like the Oriental Brothers. That was their thing. But Jos was different. Jos was a mix of all kinds of people—Christians, Muslims, southerners, northerners, foreigners. That mix produced a sound you did not hear anywhere else. It gave us 2Baba, M.I, Ice Prince, Panam Percy Paul. That sound had rock, R&B, pop—not just Highlife.

But Jos had one big problem: no music industry. No labels, no publishers, no promoters. P-Square had to go to Lagos for that. And after they won that Grab Da Mic competition in 2001, Benson & Hedges sponsored them, and the rest is history. Lagos gave them the machine. Anambra, for all its culture, never had that kind of machine.

So what if they had stayed in Anambra? Would they have become Highlife musicians? Maybe. Probably. By the 90s, Highlife was already fading, but the pressure to sound "Igbo" would have been there. Their music might have had more guitar licks, more call-and-response, and less of the Michael Jackson and Usher vibe that made them stand out.

And look—Highlife was beautiful. It was deep. But it never went as far as Afrobeats did. Afrobeats took Nigerian music to places Highlife never dreamed of. Those old-school Highlife artists used to laugh at the younger generation, say we were not serious. But if Sir Warrior, the leader of the Oriental Brothers, were alive today to see the streaming numbers P-Square pulled in, he would be shocked. Not because their music was better—but because the world had changed. The internet, streaming, global distribution—things he never had.

So, back to the question: would P-Square have been as mighty if they were born in Anambra? I do not think so.

Not because Anambra is not talented. Please. Anambra has given us giants. But Jos gave them a sound that was different. Lagos gave them the industry to push that sound worldwide. Anambra would have given them roots and pride, but roots alone do not make a tree tall. You need good soil. You need sunlight. You need space to grow.

Jos was the soil. Lagos was the sunlight. Their father's money was the space. Anambra would have given them a different color of greatness—but that color might not have reached the world so fast.

At the end of the day, talent is not enough. You need to be in the right place at the right time. You need opportunity. You need a little luck. P-Square had all of that. And that is why they became who they are.

The author also wrote How to Become a Music Maestro