Remembering Lagbaja, the chronicler of 90s Lagos

Once upon a time, in the Lagos of our recent past, specifically the 90s and early noughties, there was a musician whose sound held sway in the city.

Strike that.

Let’s say his music was the soundtrack of the city, his rhythm segued seamlessly into the livelihood of people, the quotidian minutiae of their existence. Of course, it was not Fela; it was Lagbaja.

Lagbaja was a concept well-ahead of its time. Mix English mystery and French je ne sais quoi with Yoruba adoration of masquerades and what you have is the masked one, his regalia done in fanciful tropical colours, mask frilly around the head like a tree and his unmistakable love for sandals. That was Lagbaja, which in Yoruba could mean, “somebody, anybody, nobody in particular”.

Besides being a fancy marketing strategy for his biggest clients, the bourgeoisie howling under the economic deprivation at the time, the 90s was a time fraught with difficulties accompanied with freedom of speech.

It was the Abacha era of hitmen assassins, of kangaroo tribunals and judicial murders — and every so often, a writer would go missing, be blown up or disguise to sneak out of the country through its porous borders.

Lagbaja’s music, which he called Afro calypso was hard to describe. Obviously…