‘Anything you can do/I can do it better/I’m the toughest (I’m the toughest)/And I can do what you can’t do/You’ll never try to do what I do/I’m the toughest/I’m the toughest’, (1978) – Peter Tosh.
Growing up in the late sixties, seventies and early eighties, we were regaled with a lot of competition and ‘fights’ on multiple fronts between musicians, much of which, we later learnt, were orchestrated by their supporters or by the musicians themselves to sell their market, as they say.
For instance, between Ebenezer Obey and Sunny Ade, Dele Abiodun and Emperor Pick Peters, Kollington Ayinla and Sikiru Ayinde Barrister, Christy Essien-Igbokwe and Onyeka Onwenu, among others. Every song, every talking drum or guitar gyration was given meanings that further fuelled the ‘cold war’ between rival musicians.
The musicians themselves hardly helped matters. Today, they will deny any acrimony between them. Tomorrow they will say ‘fight has finished’ and will begin to sing the praises of those who had helped to quench the fire! Next tomorrow, another ‘orin ote’ (abusive songs and drum beats that scatter ground) will rear their ugly heads again! Musicians tend to enjoy the popularity that rivalries and orchestrated fights attract. It helps to line their pockets as they smile their way to the bank after every record they release.
Some have interpreted the opening quote above by Peter Tosh, an outstanding reggae artiste in his own right, as an indication that rivalry amongst musicians is not limited to Nigerian artistes. Who was Tosh referring to here? Tougher than who? His former colleagues in The Wailers? And, again, who was he mocking in Downpressor Man (1977)? The unjust, oppressive ‘Babylon system’ to some; but, to others, his former compatriot, Bob Marley, who had fled Jamaica following an attempted assassination at his home on 3 December, 1976.
Seun Anikulapo-Kuti and Ayodeji Ibrahim Balogun (aka Whizkid) are said to be fighting. I am not a fan of either. I only took notice of their fight after reading what Whizkid was alleged to have said: that he is greater than Fela, Seun’s father! The uproar that greeted Whizkid’s alleged tantrums has, expectedly, been massive.
I am not here to add my own ‘yabis’ but to try and throw some light on the matter by sharing two opinions that, in my view, frontally address the place of Fela and Whizkid in history. As my grandmother would say, d’elegha-m’egha. Everyone should know their proper place and relevance; so that no one trespasses into another’s lane.
The first opinion by Kio Amachree and titled ‘Wizkid is a celebrity. Fela was a musician. Know the difference’ runs thus:
‘Forty years ago, my records were played on Nigerian radio and sold across the country. I became known. Then I walked away, pulled the plug, and went to serve my National Service. I begin with this not out of nostalgia, but to make a necessary distinction. There is a difference between being a musician and being a celebrity.
‘Wizkid is a celebrity. A successful one. He has played the industry game well, written love songs for young girls, danced, been marketed, promoted, and rewarded handsomely. He is a pop star of his era.
‘But he is not a musician in the historical or cultural sense. He does not play an instrument. His lyrics do not interrogate power. His music does not challenge society. That is not a crime. But it is a category. And categories matter.
‘Fela Kuti was something else entirely. Fela was classically trained. He could read and write music. He played multiple instruments. He created a new musical language and used it as a weapon against corruption, dictatorship, and injustice. His songs shook governments. They also brought him beatings, prison, exile, and the death of his mother. He paid a price for truth. Repeatedly.
‘Fela was offered millions to shorten his songs, stop being political, chase radio singles, and become “bigger than Bob Marley”. He told them to go to hell! Mission mattered more than money.
‘And let us be clear about something history often distorts: Fela was not from the gutter. He came from an educated, upper-class, sophisticated, powerful family. Yet he chose to stand with the poor, the beaten, the voiceless. That choice is what made him dangerous. That choice is what made him great.
‘To boast that one is “bigger than Fela” is not confidence. It is historical illiteracy. Celebrity fades. Bank balances (go) empty. Algorithms move on. What remains is courage, sacrifice, and contribution.
‘I learned to use music to tell stories and push for social change from Fela and from my time with Bob Marley. Music can entertain. But at its highest level, it also confronts, educates, and liberates.
‘Pop stars are free to chase charts and endorsements. That is their lane. But they do not get to rewrite history.
‘Fela is not a brand to be compared. He is a standard. And standards are not measured by streams, accents, jewelry, or record advances. They are measured by impact, integrity, and what you are willing to suffer for the truth.
‘Heroes are remembered. Celebrities are replaced!’
I am sure you are beginning to see the difference between Fela and Whizkid! Now take a look at the second opinion – it was a meeting between the reggae king, Bob Nesta Marley, and the king of pop music, Michael Jackson. Titled ‘Michael Jackson flew to Jamaica with a $50 million offer — Bob Marley said NO’, it runs thus:
‘When the world’s biggest pop star flies to Jamaica with an offer that could make you the richest reggae artist in history, most musicians (will) say “yes” immediately. But when Michael Jackson sat face-to-face with Bob Marley in a Kingston hotel suite in 1978 and proposed a collaboration that would have created the most explosive musical partnership of all time, Bob’s response shocked the King of Pop and proved that some artists value message over money, soul over stardom, and spiritual integrity over commercial success.
‘There is a fundamental difference between entertainment and enlightenment and… sometimes… legendary artists (choose) principles over profit and (stay) true to their spiritual mission.
‘Los Angeles, California, 20th October 1978. 2:15 p.m. Michael Jackson sat in his Beverly Hills recording studio, nervously adjusting his sequined glove as he reviewed documents his management team had prepared.
‘At 20 years old, Michael was transitioning from Jackson 5’s teen heartthrob to a solo superstar. And he needed something that would establish his credibility as a serious artist capable of bridging different musical worlds. That something he believed was Bob Marley.
‘The studio around Michael represented everything he had achieved and everything he hoped to transcend. Gold and platinum records lined the walls—achievements that had made him wealthy beyond imagination but hadn’t satisfied his artistic ambitions. Michael wanted respect from serious musicians, critics who dismissed pop music, and audiences who crave substance along with entertainment.
‘Michael’s management team had spent months reviewing the viability of collaborating with Bob Marley. The numbers were staggering. Michael’s pop audience combined with Bob’s growing international following could create a market of over 100 million potential record buyers. But for Michael, the appeal went deeper than commercial success. He genuinely admired Bob Marley’s music and the profound impact it had on people.
‘Michael’s mind flashed back to 1975 when Jackson 5 had performed in Kingston, Jamaica. That night backstage at the National Stadium, Michael had met Bob Marley for the first time. The encounter had left an indelible impression on the young entertainer. While Michael commanded stages through choreography, costume changes, and spectacular production, Bob’s power came from something entirely different—spiritual authority that needed no enhancement.
‘Michael remembered watching Bob perform that night from the wings. There were no costume changes, no elaborate stage effects, no choreographed dance moves – just Bob, his guitar, and a message that seemed to flow directly from his soul to the audience. Bob had been gracious but enigmatic during their brief meeting, treating the famous Jackson brother with the same humble respect he showed everyone.
‘Michael remembered being struck by Bob’s calm intensity, the way he seemed to be listening to something beyond the conversation, the profound peace that surrounded him despite the chaos of the music industry.
‘Young Michael’, Bob had said, placing a gentle hand on the teenager’s shoulder. ‘Jah has given you great gifts. Use them to uplift people’s spirits’. At the time, Michael had interpreted this as encouragement for his entertainment career. Now he wondered if Bob had meant something deeper.
‘Three years later, Michael was ready to bridge their two worlds. He had prepared extensively, studying Bob’s interviews and understanding Rastapharian philosophy. But this wasn’t something that could be handled through phone calls or intermediaries. Michael knew he needed to travel to Jamaica and meet Bob face-to-face to demonstrate the seriousness of his proposal.
‘After 3 days of coordination through Chris Blackwell at Island Records, a meeting was arranged for 23rd October at the Pegasus Hotel in Kingston. Michael flew to Jamaica specifically for this encounter, understanding that the success of his proposal would depend on earning Bob’s respect through direct, honest conversation’.
We shall continue the encounter between Bob Marley and Michael Jackson next week but to close this part one, let me return to the opening quote by Peter Tosh and ask: Has Whizkid demonstrated that he is as tough – not to talk of being tougher – than Fela and has he done a fraction of the things Fela did, which impacted peoples, governments, and Black identity worldwide? (TO BE CONTINUED).
