Eedris Abdulkareem, one of Nigeria’s most iconic rappers, has had his latest song Tell Your Papa banned by the Nigerian Broadcasting Commission (NBC). It feels familiar – 21 years ago, his protest anthem Jaga Jaga was banned during the Obasanjo regime for calling out government corruption. But Jaga Jaga wasn’t the beginning – it was part of a longer, more troubling tradition. Nigeria’s history with censoring music stretches back decades and reveals a pattern: censorship is less about public morality and more about controlling narratives.
One of the earliest known cases came after the 1966 coup. Highlife legend Rex Lawson’s song Ewu Ne Ba Akwa (“Goats Are Crying”) was co-opted by Easterners to mock Northerners amid rising ethnic tensions. The military government swiftly moved to restrict such songs, marking an early state effort to stifle music’s political power.
In the 1980s, Charly Boy’s Big Bottom was banned for its sexual content, as was Femi Kuti’s Beng Beng Beng in the early 2000s. But these weren’t just moral crackdowns – they coincided with periods of political instability and reflected deeper anxieties about free expression. Artists like Daddy Showkey and African China also found themselves under pressure for addressing poverty, police violence, and urban neglect in their music.
Even the legacy of Fela Kuti, Nigeria’s most famous musical dissenter, is shaped by relentless censorship. His songs were ripped off the airwaves, his albums seized, and his Kalakuta Republic attacked multiple times. He remains a symbol of how far the state will go to silence criticism.
In more recent times, artists like Falz (This Is Nigeria) have experienced bans, threats, or unofficial blacklisting for tackling social issues – from police brutality to corruption. The state’s attitude remains consistent: protest is dangerous, music is powerful, and both must be controlled. Whether under the guise of national security, ethnic unity, or public morality, the effect is the same – dissenting voices are pushed to the margins. But music persists. Despite censorship, musicians continue to document, reflect, and resist.
In a country where protests are violently repressed – as seen during the #EndSARS movement – music remains one of the few spaces where truth still finds a beat. Censorship may muffle the sound, but it doesn’t stop the song. The real question is not why Nigerian artists keep speaking out – it’s why the state is still so afraid of what they have to say.