Six months into President Bola Ahmed Tinubuโs tenure, imagine just imagine that the โRenewed Hopeโ agenda had translated into visible progress. Letโs say fuel prices stabilized, the naira found its footing, electricity became less of a luxury and more of a right, and youth employment surged not just on paper but in practice.
If that alternate reality had come to pass, trust Nigeriaโs ever-alert music scene to respond faster than any press conference. By now, King Wasiu Ayinde Marshal K1 De Ultimate himself would likely have already released a Fuji anthem titled something like “Asiwaju Lo Kan Gidi!” It would open with rolling drums, a praise verse describing Tinubu as the โarchitect of modern Lagos,โ and close with a smooth saxophone celebrating his economic turnaround.
And it wouldnโt stop with K1. Artists across genres would join the chorus. Olamide might drop a street anthem called “Jagaban Vibes”, Burna Boy could surprise us with a politically conscious yet hopeful track titled “New Dawn”, and even the ever-pragmatic Falz might cautiously nod in a remix of “This Is Nigeria”, updated to reflect real progress.
Because in Nigeria, music is more than art it’s both mirror and megaphone. When things go wrong, the streets sing about hardship. But when things go right? They sing even louder.
Unfortunately, that alternate reality remainsโฆ well, alternate. The tracks weโve heard in the past year are filled more with critique than celebration. The beats are still heavy, but the lyrics? They’re asking questions.
Still, the potential is there. The moment Nigeria’s leadership delivers not promises, but actual progress you can bet the studio booths will light up. And when that happens, the first voice youโll hear shouting โIjo Asiwaju!โ just might be K1โs, mic in one hand, agbada flowing, praising not just a man but a movement.
Until then, the beat waits.