Seun Kuti, the son of legendary musician Fela Kuti, shared some fascinating insights in a recent interview. He opened up about his relationship with his father, discussed a potential collaboration with his brother Femi, and expressed his disappointment at not receiving performance opportunities in Nigeria. The conversation is an engaging glimpse into Seun's life, thoughts, and experiences.
You’ve just returned from a tour, right?
Yes, I just wrapped up a six-month tour. We traveled to various places including Canada, Trinidad, the Canary Islands, Algeria, Brazil, and Argentina. I was with my band, and it was an incredible experience.
Does Afrobeat still resonate with international audiences?
Absolutely! The music was well-received everywhere we went. Music transcends boundaries—it doesn’t matter where you’re from. If the music is good, people will connect with it, regardless of language or culture. It was a grueling schedule though; we performed almost four times a week over 24 weeks. At some point, I had to cancel a few shows because I was completely exhausted.
It seems like you rarely perform in Nigeria. Why is that?
Honestly, I don’t know. I return home to rest because I don’t get booked for shows here. It’s disappointing, and it affects my band as well, considering the legacy we carry. I believe Afrobeat should have a significant presence in Nigeria, given all that my father, Fela, did for the country. It’s frustrating, and I feel like we’re being sidelined for political reasons. It’s not that the shows here are better than what I offer.
Could it be because your music is seen as controversial?
Political artists face similar challenges worldwide, not just in Nigeria. The entertainment industry today is highly corporate. Many artists are now more focused on branding than on true artistry, and they shy away from anything that challenges the status quo. Those of us who make political music are often ignored. While I understand the pushback, I feel particularly disappointed when it comes to The Shrine. Regardless of what people think of me or my brother, Fela did enough for this country for people to continue supporting The Shrine.
There are claims that The Shrine is dangerous. Is this true?
No, that’s completely false. In all its years of existence, The Shrine has had only one robbery incident, and that was when we had a Fuji artist perform. Since then, there have been no other cases. The Shrine is not a dangerous place.
Have you ever thought about switching to more mainstream music?
There’s no benefit to that for me. I’ve been playing music since I was eight years old, and I respect artists who have chosen different paths. However, I don't want to follow the trend of becoming a praise-singer or changing my style just to fit in. That’s not who I am.
People often say you're controversial because you want to emulate your father. How do you respond to that?
I don’t see myself as controversial. The truth is that society today is so morally bankrupt that they see honesty as controversial. Yes, being Fela's son is part of who I am, but I don’t deliberately try to be like him. In fact, he encouraged us to embrace our individuality. I stay true to myself, and if that rubs people the wrong way, then so be it.
How old were you when your father passed away?
I was almost 15.
What was he like as a father?
Fela was not one to beat his children. He didn’t like that kind of discipline because his own father used to beat him, and he didn’t want us to feel the same way about him. Instead, he believed in long conversations, sometimes talking to us for hours to correct our mistakes.
You started playing music at a young age. Did you ever think about pursuing something else?
Yes, as a child, I considered other paths. I was quite good academically, and I could have become an economist or pursued an intellectual career. I also loved football and was the captain of my high school team. However, I eventually chose music, partly because of my love for it and a little bit of naivety.
Why didn’t you pursue football professionally?
My uncle advised me against it, saying that footballers retire in their 30s and most coaching jobs are already taken. He warned me that I might get bored later in life. This advice led me back to music, which I also loved.
Has your music ever gotten you into trouble?
Not really. In a democracy, you can’t get in trouble for expressing yourself through music. However, political music can result in economic attacks, where people try to cut off your resources.
Did you ever watch your father perform live?
Yes, I went to all of his shows. I witnessed his lifestyle—he made money, people adored him, and there were always women around. At the time, I thought it was the easiest job ever, but I was very naive. Music is far from easy. In fact, being a musician is one of the most demanding professions out there.
Could we see a collaboration between you and Femi Kuti in the future?
A collaboration could happen, but it would likely be for financial reasons rather than musical necessity. Both Femi and I are already making great music on our own. However, we’ve discussed the possibility of working together if our careers ever slow down and we need a big project to generate income.
You’ve mentioned before that you don’t believe in marriage. Has that changed?
No, I still don’t believe in marriage as it’s traditionally set up. I see it as a capitalist institution designed to profit from love. I don’t believe in the idea of owning someone.
What if the mother of your child decides to marry someone else?
That would be her choice, and I wouldn’t stop her. We have a strong bond and a great partnership in raising our daughter, but if she chooses to marry someone else, that’s her decision.
Do you miss your father?
Of course, I miss him. He raised me, and I spent a lot of time with him growing up. It would be dishonest to say otherwise. Sometimes, I wish I could have just one more conversation with him.
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This revision maintains the essence of the interview but is rephrased to avoid plagiarism while still delivering the same key insights and sentiments.
Culled from the Punch