While Afrobeat has evolved into what is now known as Afrobeats, there is little dispute that the movement was pioneered by Fela Kuti. A musical genius and an almost mythical figure in the early years of independent Nigeria, he has since become the first African to win a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.

The Recording Academy awarded Fela Kuti a posthumous Lifetime Achievement Award in Los Angeles on Saturday, January 31, 2026. The honor is paradoxical for a man who spent much of his life railing against the establishment and public institutions.

Outside Africa, and even in Nigeria itself, he is remembered primarily as a musical genius. Yet Fela was far more than a performer who could bring crowds to their feet and hold them spellbound. A political figure, sometimes despite himself, an embodiment of excess bordering on anarchy, and a voice in anti-colonial and neo-colonial struggles,Fela Kuti was more than any single role could capture. The one point on which almost everyone agrees is that he was Africa’s first rock star.

Chief Troublemaker of the Planless Society

Before the jubilant scenes, the musical classics and the activism, there was simply Fela as a child.

Born in 1938 in Abeokuta, he grew up in a household where politics was part of everyday life. His mother, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, a leading figure in anti-colonial and social struggles, instilled in him the belief that individuals could challenge authority and compel institutions to yield. His father, Israel Oludotun Ransome-Kuti, was an educator, a pastor and the founder of Nigeria’s first teachers’ union.

Although he would later acknowledge the values he inherited from his parents, Fela remembered his childhood as restrictive. He was expected to stand straight, be polite and show absolute respect to elders. He disliked all of it, just as he showed little enthusiasm for the music his parents encouraged him to learn.

Music nevertheless ran deep in the Ransome-Kuti family. His grandfather Josiah, also a pastor and an accomplished musician, was the first to record Christian hymns in Yoruba accompanied by local percussion.

Fela was the most gifted of the four children, so gifted that his father often had him play the piano for guests and at church. Yet he detested solemn environments. Anything imposed on him, any display of authority, irritated him. At home he was nicknamed “Abami Eda,” meaning “The Strange One” "The Weird One" in Yoruba.

While his two older siblings and his younger brother seemed willing to conform, Fela resisted. Even then, he appeared to want something beyond what was expected of him. The tension intensified at school, a school founded by his parents, where his early rebellious impulses were firmly disciplined, often by his mother. He responded in his own way. He stole money from his parents.

“I always stole my mother's money. She had a school, so I had a lot of money to steal from her. The more she beat me, the more I stole. Anytime she caught me she must beat the shit out of me but next time I have a chance, I would steal it. So, I stole till I left school from my mother. I came out still not to be a thief,” he later recalled in an interview.

As he grew older, his defiance did not subside. At 18, he carried out what could be seen as a defining early act of the public figure Nigeria would later come to know. During a friendly football match between his school and a police team, students were barred from entering the stadium unless they paid for seats. They refused, arguing that they maintained the field and that the grounds had been made available free of charge for the match.

Fela rallied them. With a whistle in his mouth, he urged them forward and led a charge toward the entrance. The police were unable to stop a hundred determined students. Fela and his group forced their way inside.

Fela rallied them. With a whistle in his mouth, he urged them forward and led a charge toward the entrance. The police were unable to stop a hundred determined students. Fela and his group forced their way inside.

He later named them the Planless Club. In opposition to the model students and to what he saw as rigid conformity, they launched their own newspaper with an openly defiant editorial line based on permanent disobedience. Immersed in these ventures and frequenting music clubs where he discovered Highlife, a genre that originated in Ghana, Fela was not the most academically focused member of the family. When he completed secondary school at 20, his younger brother Beko, two years his junior, was already studying medicine in Britain.

London and its Melody of Happiness 

He later described the months following his secondary education as uncertain and directionless. He said the subjects he had studied included Religion, English Literature, Yoruba, Biology, Physics, Chemistry and Arts, but he felt unable to apply any of them in a meaningful way. For a time, he worked as a clerk at the Ministry of Trade and Industry. By his own account, he had little ambition. His mother bought him a bicycle, and he was content riding through Lagos like any other young man of his age.

That period might have continued had his brother Beko not intervened. While Fela was cycling through the streets of Lagos, Beko contacted him with news that he had identified a music school in England. According to Fela’s later recollections, Beko wrote to their mother insisting that he travel to London by any means necessary to sit the entrance examination at what was described to him as a university. In the late 1950s, he left for London to study music at Trinity College of Music.

Decades later, in 2025, his daughter Yeni Kuti offered a striking version of the story. She said that Fela and his brothers initially led their parents to believe he had secured admission to medical school. She also claimed that his acceptance at Trinity College was not entirely straightforward, suggesting that he did not meet all the formal qualifications but was admitted nonetheless, partly because he had travelled from afar.

At Trinity College, Fela studied classical trumpet and music theory. Although he struggled with certain aspects of the curriculum, he eventually obtained his diploma.

By then, he had changed significantly. The young man who had arrived in London still carried traces of a strict upbringing. He drank little and did not smoke. By the time he completed his studies, he had become a regular presence in London’s nightlife.

He shared that period with Jimo Kombi Braimah, an old acquaintance who had already introduced him to the vibrant night scene in Lagos. Braimah, a singer, had also connected him to Victor Olaiya, a leading figure in Nigerian Highlife whom Fela admired. He helped arrange a paid radio recording in Nigeria, though at the time it seemed more like an adventure than the beginning of a career.

As roommates, Fela and Braimah formed their first band, Koola Lobitos. Fela played the trumpet, Braimah the drums. They were joined by musicians from the English-speaking Caribbean and Nigeria. Their music blended Highlife and jazz, drawing heavily on artists Fela admired, including Louis Armstrong and Miles Davis.

Despite occasional setbacks, the group built a reputation at London student parties, and Fela began earning money from music. During this period, music moved from pastime to vocation. Even Nigeria’s independence in 1960 did not prompt him to return home. He felt settled in London.

In 1961, he found another reason to stay. He married his girlfriend Remy Taylor. Their first child, Yeni Kuti, was born that same year. Femi followed in 1962, then Sola in 1963, a year that would prove significant in the couple’s life.

Return to Nigeria and the American Awakening

In 1963, Fela Kuti and his young family returned to Nigeria and settled in Mushin, a neighborhood of Lagos, in a house owned by his mother. Through her connections, he secured a position at the Nigeria Broadcasting Corporation. But he had no intention of slowing his musical ambitions. He quickly assembled a new version of Koola Lobitos, maintaining the blend of Highlife and jazz.

With drummer Tony Allen reinforcing the group, the band performed regularly at the Africa Shrine, a club Fela opened in Lagos, and began attracting local attention. Demand for live performances grew to the point that he neglected his radio duties, and his contract was not renewed. He was also criticized for focusing too heavily on jazz and Highlife.

By 1965, he was living entirely from music. That year he released his first album, Fela Ransome Kuti & His Koola Lobitos. Its reception enabled the band to organize a tour of the United States in 1969. It was a modest breakthrough. At home, he did not yet rival established figures such as Jim Rex Lawson or Geraldo Pino. He left Nigeria hoping that recognition in America would enhance his standing back home.

The trip would transform him, though not in the way he initially imagined. He later recounted that during the flight he met Miriam Makeba, who was traveling to New York for a tour. He asked her for contacts in the industry, and she shared several addresses. Upon arrival, he approached one of the promoters she had recommended. According to his later recollection, the promoter dismissed him bluntly, explaining that he worked only with internationally renowned artists and advising him to produce a major record before seeking promotion in the United States.

From that point, Fela encountered the precarious reality faced by aspiring foreign musicians in America. The band had entered on tourist visas and could not legally secure work contracts. They managed to perform at a few events organized by members of the Nigerian community, but the modest income barely covered expenses. Eventually, they left New York for Los Angeles.

Tony Allen later described the journey as arduous. The group traveled in a dilapidated minibus, with musicians sitting on the floor for long stretches. In Chicago, the vehicle was abandoned and replaced with a rented station wagon. In Los Angeles, they continued to perform without proper permits. Allen recalled that members of the musicians’ union were aware of their situation but chose not to intervene, apparently convinced that the band was not attempting to exploit the system. They were warned that they could continue performing, but not in certain venues such as Las Vegas. To survive, the musicians played at night and worked day jobs during the day.

During this period, Fela accepted an offer from the Ghanaian producer Duke Lumumba to record a series of singles for Duke Records. One of them, Viva Nigeria, promoted national unity in relatively cautious terms. He would later distance himself from the song, saying he had been misled about its political implications. Released during the Biafra War, its conciliatory tone contrasted sharply with the violence unfolding in Nigeria.

The American experience altered him deeply. The carefree young musician hardened as he confronted racial hierarchies and the realities of being a Black man in the United States. His political consciousness intensified after he met Sandra Smith, a Black Panther activist, at a civil rights event where Koola Lobitos was performing. Through her, he read Malcolm X’s autobiography and immersed himself in Black political thought. He became increasingly aware of the history of slavery and systemic discrimination, both in America and elsewhere.

He would later explain that his time in the United States forced him to rethink his music. Exposure to African American history led him to question whether he had truly been playing African music at all. He concluded that he had been using jazz as a framework for African elements, when he should have reversed the relationship. In his own telling, America ultimately brought him back to himself.

The foundations of what would become Afrobeat began to take shape during this period. The rhythmic guitar patterns, the prominence of percussion instruments such as the shekere, and Tony Allen’s distinctive drumming style gradually coalesced into a new sound. At the time, however, Fela did not yet grasp the global impact this music would later achieve.

Meanwhile, his wife and children remained in Nigeria, waiting for nine months amid rumors about his situation abroad. At one point, false reports even suggested that he had been imprisoned. Alarmed by the gossip and the instability of their circumstances, Tony Allen urged him to return to Lagos.

Afrobeat and the Birth of a Global Music Legend

Fela Kuti and his band, now known as Fela Kuti & Nigeria 70, returned to Lagos to find a country still marked by the suppression of the Biafran secession. The political climate suited this new version of Fela, transformed musically and, above all, more openly militant.

A few weeks later, he brought Sandra Smith to Nigeria. She moved into the main house with him, while his wife, who had a strained relationship with her mother-in-law, relocated to an apartment with the children.

Musically, Afrobeat caused a sensation. Gone were the trumpet-led arrangements and jazz stylings. In their place came organ-driven grooves, tight trousers, new dance movements and songs performed in Nigerian pidgin. Audiences flocked to his shows, and his reputation began to spread beyond Nigeria’s borders.

In 1971, during a visit to Lagos for a series of concerts, James Brown attended one of Fela’s performances. Two years later, Paul McCartney came to see him play while in Lagos to work on what would become the album Band on the Run.

In 1972, alongside Jimo Kombi Braimah, Fela acquired the club at the Empire Hotel and transformed it into the Afrika Shrine. The venue quickly became inseparable from his stage performances. By then, the band had gained international recognition.

After a disagreement with his saxophonist Igo Chico, Fela reportedly taught himself to play the instrument within 24 hours. From that period onward, he released a succession of major tracks including Shakara, Lady, Go Slow and Gentleman. His career entered a new phase.

Kalakuta Republic or the Lagos Version of the Icarus Myth

The Afrika Shrine expanded to include a bookstore stocked with works by major African thinkers and activists. Visitors came to read Kwame Nkrumah, Cheikh Anta Diop, Marcus Garvey and Malcolm X. The space became a hub for Pan-African thought, and Fela positioned himself at its center.

Around the Shrine, however, alcohol, drugs, prostitution and other informal activities flourished. Its growing popularity drew large crowds and increasing police scrutiny. Fela was viewed as a troublemaker, and not without reason.

On April 30, 1974, police raided his residence during an interview. Marijuana was seized and about 60 people were arrested. He was detained at Alagbon Close prison, in a cell known as Kalakuta. Furious at missing what would have been his first major tour in Cameroon, he dismissed the presence of underage girls in his home as insignificant.

Released, he was arrested again days later on accusations of drug dealing. Several accounts suggest the police planted marijuana in his residence. According to those versions, Fela swallowed the substance before officers could retrieve it. When they later inspected his waste, no trace of cannabis was found. The episode inspired his track “Expensive Shit.” Back home, he renamed his residence Kalakuta Republic, a reference to the prison cell where he had been held.

On November 23, 1974, police returned, this time searching for a 14-year-old runaway girl who had taken refuge at his compound. She was the daughter of Lagos’s Inspector General of Police. According to official reports, residents of Kalakuta Republic, where Fela housed musicians, relatives and supporters, threw stones at officers. He was arrested once more.

When he was released three days later, thousands gathered to welcome him. Standing atop a car, visibly bruised, he delivered an impromptu speech denouncing the government. For many supporters, he embodied an alternative authority. It was during this period that he became known as “The Black President.”

In 1975, he dropped the name Ransome, which he associated with colonial Christianity, and adopted Aníkúlápó, meaning in Yoruba “He who carries death in his pocket,” signaling that he would not die on his enemies’ terms.

Between 1975 and 1977, he entered what many consider his most prolific musical period, releasing 23 albums in three years. Kalakuta Republic evolved into a creative enclave hosting musicians, activists and political dissidents. Sandra Smith spent time in Lagos during this period.

As Nigeria prepared for elections in 1979, Fela intensified his political rhetoric. Following the consolidation of power by Olusegun Obasanjo after a failed coup, he became increasingly confrontational. On November 20, 1976, he founded the Young African Pioneers, a political movement reflecting his ideology. He also began work on an autobiographical film titled Black President.

Most provocatively, he released “Zombie,” a song portraying soldiers as mindless automatons. The military regime recognized itself in the lyrics. The track’s popularity turned the insult into a national phenomenon. The state responded not with rebuttal, but with force.

On February 18, 1977, approximately 1,000 soldiers stormed Kalakuta Republic. The compound was destroyed. Residents were beaten. Buildings were set ablaze. Fela’s mother was thrown from a window and later died from her injuries. Fela emerged from the attack convinced that while property could be destroyed, narrative could not. He carried his mother’s coffin to Dodan Barracks, headquarters of the military government, and recorded a series of songs directly accusing the regime: “Sorrow, Tears and Blood,” “Unknown Soldier,” and “Coffin for Head of State.” His music shifted from celebration to indictment.

He was never the same after the assault. His tone hardened. His personal life became inseparable from his political performance. Authorities excluded him from FESTAC 77, despite the festival being hosted in Nigeria.

In 1978, he married 27 women from his artistic circle, known as the Queens. He framed the gesture as both a statement of African identity and a legal shield against potential accusations of kidnapping. Critics accused him of misogyny. He remained unapologetic.

Tony Allen eventually left the band, warning that Fela’s escalating activism would have consequences. Though Fela continued performing internationally, including in Berlin and Paris, the music changed. The band became Egypt 80.

Clashes with the state continued. On September 4, 1984, as he prepared to depart for an American tour, he was arrested at Lagos airport on currency-related charges. A special tribunal sentenced him to five years in prison. Amnesty International later described the trial as politically motivated. He served roughly 20 months before being released on April 24, 1986, following international pressure.

Upon release, he declared his intention to return to politics, as though imprisonment had merely been an interruption. The story could have ended there, with a defiant figure walking free. Instead, it darkened. Fatigue set in. Nigeria changed governments but not its reflexes. Fela carried forward, visibly marked by what he had endured, his strengths and his contradictions intact.

Death and the Making of a Legacy

Fela died on August 2, 1997. In the years before his death, he had relaunched the Afrika Shrine, resumed touring and celebrated Nelson Mandela’s release from prison. When he died, the continent was still unsettled.

Lagos gave him a funeral equal to his stature. Hundreds of thousands gathered. More than a million lined the route. The procession moved so slowly that it took hours to cover 20 kilometers, as though it were carrying not just a body but the end of an era.

The next day, his family announced that he had died of AIDS-related complications. The revelation divided opinion and stirred controversy. Even his death became a political matter. The circumstances of his passing became another contested narrative.

His death resolved at least one question. Debate over whether he had always been right gave way to a broader recognition of what he had built. Afrobeat, the genre he forged, became global. His image evolved into a reference point, sustaining exhibitions, reissues, tributes and mythmaking.

In 2025, nearly 50 years after its release and 27 years after his death, “Zombie” was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame. In the 1970s, the same track had brought him into direct confrontation with the military regime. In 2026, the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences awarded him a Lifetime Achievement Award. The anti-establishment figure once targeted by the state had entered the canon of global cultural heritage.

His family continues the work, each in a distinct way. Femi Kuti, and later Seun Kuti at the helm of Egypt 80, have extended the sound and the stance, each navigating the weight of a legacy that both protects and constrains. The lineage reaches beyond the Kuti household. Burna Boy, now a global star, is the grandson of Benson Idonije, Fela’s first manager. That connection is often cited as a symbolic link between the era of manifestos and the era of stadium tours. Burna Boy does not claim to be Fela, but he operates in a space Fela helped create.

Around him, contemporary Afrobeats, in the plural, more pop-oriented, more digital and more export-driven, continues to expand through artists such as Wizkid, Davido, Tems, Rema, Ayra Starr, Asake and Tiwa Savage. They do not all write political manifestos, but they move through a global industry whose doors were forced open in part by Fela and Tony Allen. If Lagos holds a central place in today’s global music economy, it is partly because of Fela Kuti.

Servan Ahougnon