The Monthly Three: September 2023 Edition

This month, I wrote about what Gangs of Lagos and Shanty Town tell us about privilege and innocence; Burna's new album I Told Them, and shared some new music I'm currently listening to.

New month, new Three! So good to be doing this again this month. Let’s get to it, shall we? Read, comment, share. Subscribe! Previous editions here and here.

Shanty Town, Gangs of Lagos, and the politics of elite innocence

I have been really excited about the number of Nigerian movies and shows recently that have focused on Lagos’ underbelly and grappled with the country’s political environment, and I’d been meaning to engage with some of the themes of these films. I know all these movies came out early in the year, but this essay honestly could not have come earlier. The elections were a slow-moving clusterfuck that eventually gave way to a ridiculous amount of difficulty for Nigerians. Even while the year had me by the neck with work and teaching my students and life-ing, engaging with political topics was completely out of the question. Until now. 

There are actually a bunch of shows and films we could be discussing for various reasons, but I want to hold up two of these pieces of work: Gangs of Lagos, which follows a young man Obalola’s journey into gang activity in downtown Lagos; and Shanty Town, a mini-series where a group of sex workers seek to escape control of a dangerous gang leader. Both Shantytown and Gangs are set in Lagos, and feature gang activity as part of the long arm with which politicians gain and keep control. Both have one looming political figure calling the shots, and both feature poor people who make up the ecosystem that fuels the political machine that this key figure commands. Both are also similar in that they have privileged characters who are not directly involved in the grimy work that keeps the cogs of the political wheels turning. I enjoyed both of these pieces of work (I’m not getting into the plot holes in Shanty Town especially), and found them both interesting for the commentary they make (or perhaps don’t make) on privilege.  

Where the political figures and the gang leaders who do their dirty work are presented as cruel ogres driven entirely by their seemingly unslakable thirst for power, Teni in Gangs and Femi in Shanty are presented in a warmer, more inviting light. Teni in Gangs is the daughter of the gang leader Kazeem who grew up friendly with Obalola. She went abroad for university and returned home to a very comfortable situation set up by her father, with Obalola ordered to serve as her guard and driver. As far as we know, in spite of how much has changed in Teni's wealth due to her father’s political success, she does not treat Obalola any differently, even though the differences in their stations in life are clear. Similarly in Shanty Town, we are introduced to Femi Fernandez, who is the son of the politician that looms large above Lagos in the show. He is portrayed first as a hot stranger that Shalewa, the sex worker who works for the gang leader Scar, meets at a bar, then as a good guy who is happy to date her, a woman who is attractive but mostly speaks pidgin and is several rungs below the income ladder from him. Teni and Femi are portrayed as confident and good-looking. They crack jokes. They are allowed to keep their hands clean. We would be forgiven for liking them, or thinking of them as different from their parents.

The problem with allowing these characters to hold onto their innocence is that it represents a huge missed opportunity in these political films. With the characters of Teni and Femi, we are not given insight into anything about their interior lives. We do not know what they think about their positions of privilege, what stories they tell themselves about what is theirs and what they deserve. Who gets given an interior life with hopes, aspirations, and full humanness and who does not is treated as a political weapon that is wielded to demonstrate the impact of the sociopolitical environment on the private lives of characters.

But what if characterization has more potential than this narrow political use? What if it can be used to expose the way a character like Teni sees herself and these people who grew up around her? What if we are allowed to see up close how characters like Femi Fernandez and Teni care [or not] about the state of the country around them? In Gangs, when Obalola has an outburst about how charmed Teni’s life is while he has to clean up messes she knows nothing about, the confrontation was interrupted with an assassination attempt on Teni. The one time we see in Shanty Town where Shalewa and Femi have an actual conversation that shows the gulf between them, it serves no purpose. What if we are given an opportunity to see how people like Teni are keen to return to their Isale Eko neighborhood because that is where she is someone relevant, and what that tells us about the utilitarian relationship she has with the area she grew up, and how not so dissimilar she is from her father in that regard?

Far from exoneration, a choice to beam a kaleidoscopic light on privileged people will actually subject these characters to enhanced scrutiny, giving these works more interesting things to say about the Nigerian condition. They will enable our political films to tell stories about wealth and its impact that also gets at the humanness of these characters in a way that just stops at the enforced innocence that their parental wealth affords them. Our film storytellers have so much material, and there’s always more work to do. But imagine the stories we would tell if we allowed everyone shade and color.  

What Did Burna Tell Us?

Burna Boy’s albums always begin with an intro that sets the tone for the rest of the album. My favorite album of his is Outside (yes, still), and it began with my favorite intro “More Life” which was a reflection on his journey at the time. In African Giant, the intro was where he spoke of his skill and ambition and shared his aspiration to win a Grammy. In Twice as Tall, he spoke about coming back stronger after the disappointment of not having won the Grammy. After having won that Grammy, he dropped Love, Damini and the first track was “Glory”, which was reflective and gratitude-filled, and was one full of gratitude for where he is in his career. These intros have always been a thing that helped with giving the albums a personal touch, giving us an inkling into his aspirations and where he’s at personally and professionally. 

Similarly, right from the intro on the new album I Told Them, we see a Burna who cares so much about his haters that he can’t even properly do a well-deserved victory dance. Right from that first opening, he is snarling at his audience full of haters. He beats his chest, telling us he is a genius and that he has always been as good as he is, as though the result of his prowess don’t speak for itself. It is as though the ovations from people who have loved his music for years have never been loud enough. Come to think of it, I don’t recall a moment in the whole album where he even acknowledges the near-constant standing ovation he’s been receiving for the last few years. 

Here is the thing: Burna is an exceptional artist. There is a whole discography and a whole catalog of growth that shows that. Burna has also always been someone who seemed to be looking over his shoulder at his haters. If this were earlier on in his career when he was still being snubbed for Headies, or the time when On a Spaceship had just dropped, or years later when he dropped the excellent EP Redemption, I would get it. He hadn’t at that time become the undeniable force that he would be. Now, though, we are seven albums in, a Grammy and several sold-out tours later. Because of this, Burna’s preoccupation with “them” feels strange to my ears. The more I listened to the album, the stranger it felt.

I Told Them has its gems, but the ambition of the album seems much smaller than the previous three in his oeuvre, while showcasing the best and worst of his instincts. The album feels more assertive and direct, because he does not experiment with as many styles as he did on Love or even on Twice. The album feels “smaller” in its ambition as a result, although that in itself is not necessarily a bad thing. Ambition by way of experimentation, after all, does not always translate to great music. Besides, at Burna’s best, there are very few other people who are as able to play with different styles while being fully himself. He gives us a jam worthy of a drunken whine in the darkened corner of a club on the album standout “Tested, Approved and Trusted”. I was happy to see him teaming up with British rapper Dave again on one of my favorite songs on the record “Cheat on Me”, which weirdly enough doesn’t seem to have anything to do with infidelity or women. Burna’s musical instincts are typically sharp, as we see on “Giza”, an album standout where Burna teams up with Seyi Vibez to give us afro-adura realness. Songs like it and “Killing Dem” three albums ago on African Giant show how much Burna enjoys playing with new styles and working with promising new acts. He gives Seyi Vibez the first verse then follows with his own in what is probably the album’s main jolt of playful experimentation. This and “City Boys” are raucous, foot-stamping bops that are some of the album’s best moments. I’m no fan of “Sitting on Top of the World”, which feels like a lazy attempt to recreate the magic that was “Last Last”. The album is mercifully free of politically-charged songs, but he does give us a slow and reflective take on “If I’m Lying”. I always like when he puts that gravelly singing voice to use in service of slower, more pensive songs. This, as well as “Big 7” and that lovely Virgil voice note that preceded it give the record a personal feel.

There was so much potential for this album to simply be an example of a versatile master at work, but Burna gets in his own way. The chip on Burna’s shoulder helps to drive him, and it has largely worked so far to keep himself on his toes. We all need our fuels, but the problem is that it seems as though what Burna seeks is not praise, but blind obeisance not unlike a vengeful god. A lot of the songs on I Told Them are about his success and his journey, and while he can be accused of self-involvement I actually am happy that the album is free of politics, because too often Nigerian artists only ever write about the people when they’re writing about political frustrations. While there are songs for the club aplenty, one has to wonder how much fun he’s actually having if he’s ending the album with “Thanks” (“Talibans II” comes after, but it’s listed as a bonus track). It’s one thing to think you are not given the props you deserve, or to be annoyed by rumors about your life, but to think you need to be thanked for your own personal success is truly the wildest thing I’ve heard an artist put to song. In retrospect, going on Zane Lowe’s popular Apple Music show and commenting on other afrobeats artists’ lack of substance in their music was a foreshadowing of “Thanks”, where he teams up with J Cole to cast aspersions on his Nigerian audience. As a lover of music, it was uniquely disappointing to hear J Cole and Burna Boy were collaborating on a song, only for it to be incoherent, finger-pointing dross that stands at odds with the fact that Burna’s biggest and oldest fans are among these same Nigerians that he’s spitting at. It is disappointing to see that even with all his success and how much has changed for him, Burna refuses to grow out of this petulant narrative he has pushed himself with. That this outburst to his Nigerian fans who don’t give him thanks for “making [my] country proud every chance I get” features an American rapper who ends the song by consoling and praising Burna is both hilarious and further adds to the insult. 

To bookend what would have been a decent follow-up to Love, Damini with these displays of petulance and bitterness is frankly a shame. Burna has been tireless in recent years, laying the tracks for what would be an incredible legacy as he propels forward. I just wish he’d spend more time basking in the light of his progress than bathing in the dust he would do well to leave behind.  

Don’t Sleep

One of my favorite new acts right now is Lifesize Teddy. There are very few people who come out the gate with the confidence to do their own thing and own their own voice. I came away from listening to her EP very impressed. You might be, too. 

 Until next time.