Ever since Seun Kuti first climbed onstage as a child alongside his father Fela Anikulapo-Kuti and the legendary Egypt 80, he has been an ardent lover of the stage. 

He was only about nine when he began opening Fela’s shows, singing with Egypt 80 before his father took over the stage. By his early teens, he had formally joined the band as a saxophonist and percussionist, and following Fela’s death, 14-year-old Seun took over its leadership. More than three decades since those first performances, the stage remains one of the clearest glimpse into his artistry.

Throughout his professional career, the 43-year-old Afrobeat maestro has travelled across the world performing his own music alongside selections from his father’s catalogue, carrying the same charismatic fervour that has long defined his family’s musical legacy.  

In our conversation, he recalls the thrill of eventually playing in prestigious spaces he once wondered if Afrobeat would ever enter, including the Philharmonie de Paris. Yet, after years onstage and across the world, he quips that “It’s still the people that matter,  not the space.”

As far as recording music goes, Seun Kuti’s recent releases have also been reminders of why he remains one of contemporary Afrobeat’s most vital custodians. In June, he released “Na Dem,” featuring prominent American guitarist Tom Morello. He also released “Problems,” with Jamaican reggae musician Kabaka Pyramid, in July — both records still as politically charged and culturally rich as the bulk of his catalogue. Catching up with Guardian Music, Seun Kuti gives us another close peek into his life as a musician.

You’ve been on the road quite a bit this year. How has the year felt for you musically?

Well, it’s not a surprise really because everything we are doing this year, things were put into motion last year or over the last couple of years. We have a bigger vision for what I’m trying to do right now, so we’re working to meet those targets and doing what we need to do to achieve them. I’ve gone to far places this year. I’ve done a European tour, maybe about 15 shows. Then we went to Australia. I was supposed to go to Colombia, but because of the earthquake, we had to reschedule the tour. I don’t think I’ve played up to 40 shows this year. I think we’ve done like 25 because I’m trying to take it easy this year and not do too much.

For someone whose career has been shaped so much by being onstage, does performing ever begin to feel familiar after all these years?

My career is one that is constantly evolving in the commercial space. When my first album dropped, I was maybe 24. The huge success of it led to my second album, and I’ve been on a kind of steady upward trajectory, musically and professionally. Everything I do every time is kind of new. Many people think, “Oh, I’ve been doing this for so long,” but most things I do are new. I’m trying to break new ground in my art and enter new spaces. For me, I’m constantly trying new things, so things don’t seem too familiar sometimes.

Funny enough, I think the last two years have been my two biggest European tours — world tours, actually. We did a big one in the States as well. I played four nights back-to-back at the Blue Note in New York. Being able to accomplish things like that is still new for me.

Are there particular stages or arenas you still dream of playing?

There’s no arena that I’m looking forward to, but there’s no arena that I don’t want to grace at some point with my music, ancestors willing. When I started playing in Paris, for example, I used to imagine, “Man, will I ever play at the Paris Philharmonie? Would they accept my music in that kind of classical music setting and allow me to bring my art there to share with the world?” Then we did it. We sold it out.

After you do that, you realise it’s still your fans that will come. It doesn’t change how I feel about the music I’m making. At the end of the day, it’s still the people that matter. It’s not the space.

What is Seun Kuti’s recipe for a thrilling stage performance? Do you have any rituals before going onstage?

Funny enough, I think I’m the only artist who doesn’t have any pre-stage ritual except normal warming up. I play my sax a bit just to make sure everything is working fine, and it’s all greased up, oiled up, and ready to blow. I warm up my voice to make sure I don’t lose it in the middle of the set. Nothing special.

I have a lot of artist friends who have rituals. Some people have to pray. Some people have to be in some kind of circle. My band, when I’m touring, like to do a little huddle, and I never join them. I call them pussies for doing that. They’re so corny. [Laughs]

This October, though, I’m trying to do something for the first time where I perform with a lot of guests. I want to have most of my artist friends that I can get come out with me in New York and LA. Most times when I perform, it’s just me for an hour and a half or two hours. No special guests. I want to do something special in New York and LA this fall.

“Na Dem” became popular through a live performance at Coachella. What was going through your mind when you were writing it?

My lyrics are always born out of poetry that I have. “Na Dem” is actually something I wrote from back to front. I was thinking that one day Nigerian people have to really surprise these people. In Yoruba, there is an expression, jẹ ojú, which literally means to “eat the eye.” It can be used as a euphemism for betraying somebody.

The African elites really believe that the people of Africa cannot rise against them and betray them as they have been betraying us. So that’s where the idea started from. How have they betrayed us? The second verse. By destroying everything we have. Who are these people that have betrayed us? Na dem. So the song was inspired from back to front.

Why was Tom Morello the right person to bring into that record?

Our musical styles might be different in terms of genre, but I think the spirit of Tom Morello, even from his time in Rage Against the Machine, has matched my own consciousness.

Very few artists in the world are class-conscious and understand that music is for working people. Music is supposed to speak on behalf of the poor and working people of the world, not mesmerise people with the luxuries that the elites control.

Very few artists still understand that connection — that music belongs to the people. True art represents the values and aspirations of working-class and poor people in society. The true meaning of art, even from the beginning, was to speak truth to power.

Even though music has been co-opted today, Tom Morello still represents that consciousness and that tradition. If you look back through my catalogue, I’ve always wanted to collaborate with artists like that, who share my revolutionary ideas and an agenda for change globally.

Then you moved from “Na Dem” to “Problems” with Kabaka Pyramid. How did that collaboration happen?

Kabaka has been a brother and a friend for years. I discovered Kabaka’s music about 14 years ago. He did an album called Rebel Music, and from that time I’d been conscious of his art.

I met him a few years later outside London. I had a show somewhere and Akala, who is also a great artist, author and friend of mine, was there with his wife and Kabaka. That’s when I met him, and since then we’ve been brothers.

When I wrote this song, I had the intention of featuring someone from the Caribbean, so I just called him up. I’ve never played in Jamaica and he has never played in Nigeria. We’re trying to find ways to build that bridge and introduce our people to our music together. Hopefully through “Problems,” people can say, “Who is this Kabaka?” and check his music. And maybe through people seeing him on my thing, they can say, “Who is this fucking Seun Kuti guy?” and check my shit.

There seems to be a larger body of work coming. What can you tell us about the next album?

Hopefully, my next album comes before the end of the year. We don’t have a title yet.

We have eight tracks. We’re going to release six tracks, then put out bonus tracks. Maybe we’ll do a little game for our fans to unlock those tracks and have them. We have more features around the record.

I produced it with Femi Koleoso from Ezra Collective. They’re probably the biggest UK live music act right now and very good friends of mine, my brothers as well. That’s all I can tease right now without giving too much away. We’ll drop one more single before the album.

Away from the music, your work with the Movement of the People and the attempt to register it with INEC has become another major part of your life. Does that struggle ever become exhausting?

It’s not a fight. It’s me performing my civic duty. I’ve refused to abandon my citizenship out of fear or favour. I’ve also accepted to grow up as an individual, to be an adult, and to modify my ambitions away from what drove me as a young man.

I know the importance of my community, the reflection of my community on me and mine on it, and I choose to accept that responsibility. So it’s a thing of duty.

I don’t think it’s a fight. It’s a struggle, but it’s a thing of duty. I don’t think I’m fighting anybody because of it. No, I’m not fighting. I’m struggling.

If MOP eventually gets registered, would you consider contesting for political office?

I don’t want to say yes or no at the moment. Let me adopt the position the MOP has instructed me to adopt. It’s a decision I’m looking to make when we get there. At the moment, I’m concentrating all my efforts on our party being registered by INEC, and we are immersed in that struggle.

That being said, MOP is not necessarily the only vehicle or avenue through which Nigeria and Nigerians can find liberation. This is our own attempt as an organisation, as a group, as a movement, to see how we can organise our people to take their power. Nobody says that it cannot happen outside of MOP. We are not hungry for power. We are hungry for liberation, anywhere it comes from. And please let it be known that on the 14th of October, we are in court again.

What does life look like for Seun Kuti when you’re away from music and politics?

Me, I live a very boring life outside of my work. [Laughs] My life is quite beautiful these days. I’m not even active on social media like that because I’ve been working. I think in my old age I’m becoming an introvert of some sort. Since I’ve been back from London, this is the first time I’ve left my house. I’ve not even gone outside my building into my compound.

I did the club thing when I was in my 20s, up until I was like 31 or 32. Every day, clubbing. The good thing for me is that I could do that when I was young. I had the means and opportunity, so I enjoyed my youth in that aspect. I’m not really fascinated by the club now.

I think it’s only in Africa that I really see it. You go out, and there are 20-year-olds, 30-year-olds, 40-year-olds, 50-year-olds, 60-year-olds, 70-year-olds. Everybody! So far as there is money and means, everybody is in the club together. Everybody has the same idea of fun. I think we as adults need to allow the kids to breathe. Let the youth breathe. Leave them their space.

I remember after a show I did in Sheffield, my friends took me to a club. We were chilling nicely, and I was just in one corner. I was really looking fine, I can’t lie. An Igbo girl came to me and was talking to me. She asked how old I was. At the time, I had just clocked 40, so I said, “I’m 40.” She said, “Why didn’t you lie that you’re 30?” I said, “Why would I lie that I’m 30?”

After that day, I realised, ah, no wonder when I go to the UK, I hardly see Nigerian men with grey hair! It’s as if we don’t age in the UK. Everybody is 30 forever. Thirty for life. Let me not say everybody because it’s not good to generalise. But most Nigerian men I know in the UK, especially my friends — yes, I’m accusing all of them — they don’t agree to grey. [Laughs] We need to allow the youth to breathe. Maybe if we do that, we will have time for the serious things of nation-building. You can’t build a nation with a hangover.

At this stage of your life and career, what is the vision for Seun Kuti moving forward?

Whatever the ancestors decide, that me I do. Nigerians need to pay attention to me, that I am led. Every step is ancestrally ordained.

I don’t just move anyhow, just moving with the wind. That’s why anything that happens to me, there’s a repercussion. So I don’t take that lightly and start bragging, “Oh, I’m planning this.” No, no, no. Whatever the ancestors have decided that we should do, that’s what we do going forward.