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

Was Bounty Killer Mocking Afrobeats?

Bounty Killer. Source: Radioduplicate.com 

Bounty Killer is a globally known Dancehall artist from Jamaica. His opinion was sought regarding what is perceived to be the dominance of Afrobeats over Dancehall.  He talked with a vague tone, leaving people wondering where he stood on the matter. According to him, Afrobeats and Dancehall complement each other, rather than compete against themselves.  They are all black music and Jamaicans are proud that Africa has come up with something as powerful as Afrobeats.

Yes, at the bottom of Jamaican popular music, be it Dancehall or Reggae, there is the glorification of Africa. But then, Bounty slid into something that seemed to suggest that he was mocking Afrobeats, saying that Dancehall artists are stupid and should blame themselves for making music lacking meaning and intellectual content. He mimicked Burner Boy's line from the song, Ye, which says "ye ye, ye ye ye ye ye ye ye ye," saying that it has meaning, something that people can relate to. Then he scolded Dancehall artists, referring to them as stupid for making music with zero intellectual content and meaning, something that doesn't mirror everyday life that should enable people to relate to the music.

The hint in that rant is that Afrobeats artists are stupid for making music without intellectual content and meaning –this has been the loophole of Afrobeats, something that critics of the genre often cite. On the contrary, Dancehall and Jamaican music as a whole is celebrated for its powerful intellectual content. It is the reason why the word "conscious" cannot be separated from conversations around Jamaican music. It is the tradition of Jamaican music that came from the history and circumstances that shaped Jamaican culture.

What I deduce from what Bounty Killer said, is anger against something that became a spoiler to the industry that puts meals on his table. While Afrobeats was spreading, the Jamaican opposition leader was quoted to have said that Afrobeats was eating Jamaica's meal. I have had a debate on social media with a Jamaican who said he doesn't know what Burner Boy says in his songs, despite claiming he sings in English. It tells you that this is the question Jamaicans often ask –the question of why is it that what people are embracing is something that lacks depth in meaning. I am Nigerian, I know this is truly the weakness of Afrobeats and I have, at one point, criticized this, becoming silent only after the genre found global acceptability.

So, why is Afrobeats getting global attention and recognition despite its perceived intellectual weakness? Most time, when people turn to another nascent genre, it isn't because existing genres have failed in any way. It is merely because it is something new – people often turn their attention to what is new and trending. Talking about black music, I have often hailed the extremely high intellectual quality of American Soul, Hip Hop and Jamaican music. However, the ingenuity of a music artist isn't only seen in his intellectual quality. It is also about intricacy, groove, melody and rhythm. Afrobeats artists bring this to such a scale that the world cannot help but notice. 

Yiro Abari Pede is the author of How to Become a Music Maestro.