Femi Kuti’s latest album, Journey Through Life, is a blend of sermons, a litany of criticisms, and searing complaints.
Though its title and album art suggest an intimate, reflective journey through the artist’s personal history, his lyrics instead range from introspective and soulful to passionate and fiery as he addresses the transient nature of life, recalls the invasion of Fela’s Kalakuta Republic by military men (Unknown Soldier), the endless corruption of Nigerian government officials, and the depraved practice of some male doctors who sexually abuse women.
After the sermon on the joyous title track, “Journey Through Life”, where he reminds us about the transience of life admonishes us to live in peace and love, the album swiftly pivots into familiar Afrobeat territory as Kuti wastes no time confronting the country’s entrenched corruption.
On “Chop And Run”, he says nothing in Nigeria can shock him, not even the skewed politics or absurd lies. Backed by slow horn riffs and a simmering Afrobeat groove, the track channels frustration into defiant energy. In keeping with the protest tradition of his father and his own previous work, Kuti’s voice hardens as he recites the distressing catalogue of corruption and lies of the Nigerian leaders.
Having spoken about the infamous 1977 assault on Fela’s Kalakuta Republic, where soldiers threw his grandmother, Funmilayo Ransom-Kuti, out of the window, and the presidential pardons granted to criminals by former presidents Goodluck Jonathan and Muhammadu Buhari, Kuti recounts the lies told by corrupt government officials, including bizarre claims of animals swallowing public funds. Though these recurring themes might seem dated, they underscore the tragic fact that little has changed in Nigeria’s leadership over the decades.
Nigeria returned to democracy in 1999, after years of repressive military rule. Still, the story remains the same: the country’s economic situation remains in ruins, and the citizens struggle to survive. For Femi, this so-called democracy has become a show of hypocrisy.
The Nigerian political leaders fought for democracy not because they loved the country, but because the military men didn’t allow them to participate in stealing from the country’s wealth, Kuti claims on “Politics Don Expose Them”. Now that they are in charge, it’s obvious that their fight for democracy was nothing but a ploy to embezzle the country’s wealth. This makes them liars, hypocrites, pretenders, and deceitful people with fake and empty promises.
The failure of the Nigerian political elite to make the country better is the subject of “After 24 Years”, the album’s lead single. Anchored by pulsing rhythms and bold horn riffs, the track channels Kuti’s exasperation in fiery verses and searing solos. “So, after twenty-four years / With confidence, we fit say these politicians failed the nation,” Kuti sings in Nigerian Pidgin, his voice laced with weary frustration. He further adds that they failed to bring salvation but also wrecked the country. (Note: The song was recorded in 2023..)
Kuti sounds jaded as he continues to address the discomforting political, economic, and social conditions of Nigeria on “Corruption Na Stealing”. Simmering with steady percussion, Femi Kuti shares incisive critiques with exhaustion, bemoaning the use of English language to subvert the truth and rule of law in favour of the rich. “When Big Man thief / Na big English dem dey take to hide the thief,” he laments. “When big man thief / Na big English till them make am Chief”. What’s next after a thief becomes a chief? The dismissal of his misdeeds and the glorification of his chieftaincy title.
The album, however, suffers redundancy. At times, it feels desultory, more like a recycling of familiar ideas than a fresh perspective. Tracks 2 to 5 and 8 tread overly familiar ground, dealing with the same topics of corruption, abuse of power by Nigerian politicians, and African cultural disconnection.
“Last Mugu” reiterates Fela’s “Gentleman”, mocking African cultural alienation and systemic problems. The urgency in Femi’s voice contrasts with Fela’s playful defiance, reflecting generational shifts while upholding the Kuti legacy of social consciousness and protest through music.
It’s delightful to hear Kuti questioning the depravity of some male doctors sexually harassing women on “Oga Doctor” and advocating that more female doctors are needed to curb the menace. It’s, however, questionable that the solution he proposes is the ancient practice of our forebears, where men had no business in women’s affairs.
On “Shotan”, it’s ridiculous to hear Kuti still sing about former President (Olusegun) Obasanjo, whose tenure ended in 2007, as though he still holds a significant influence on the country’s political situation. This is more shocking when you consider that the incumbent President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, whose economic policies are crippling the country’s economy is only mentioned in a passage on the scathing “Chop And Run”.
Though the repetition implies emphasis, underscoring Femi Kuti’s unchanging agitation against the country’s deteriorating social, political and economic growth, a different tact might have made these songs stronger and brighter. Even so, Kuti’s voice remains a potent force, offering solace and solidarity to listeners who share his frustration.
Journey Through Life doesn’t take us on a journey through Femi Kuti’s life, but it reminds us of Nigeria’s unchanging headlines, affirming that Afrobeat’s role as a mirror to Nigerian society is far from opaque.
