In a strongly worded commentary, broadcast journalist, author, and filmmaker Adebayo Faleke (popularly known as Bayoo) has decried the rising tide of internal strife within the Fuji music industry, describing it as an unnecessary and destructive trend that threatens the legacy and future of one of Nigeria’s most vibrant indigenous music genres.
Tracing the genre’s origins to Yoruba oral traditions and Ramadan night “were” music, Faleke painted a nostalgic picture of Fuji’s golden era—when it served as a powerful soundtrack to the Nigerian experience. But today, he argues, Fuji has degenerated into “Fuji warfare,” where rivalry, ego, and public confrontations have replaced harmony, mentorship, and innovation.
“Fuji music was once a roaring lion,” he wrote. “But now? The once glorious House of Fuji has become a noisy beer parlour where egos sing louder than talent.”
According to Faleke, unlike other global music genres where veterans serve as mentors and role models, Fuji music veterans often become bitter rivals. Petty squabbles, showmanship, and social media altercations have taken centre stage, leaving little room for growth or generational transition.
He particularly called out the damaging trend of Fuji artists airing decades-old grievances on podcasts and livestreams, turning microphones into battlegrounds. What used to be cryptic lyrical digs in albums have now become full-blown online wars, with fans and supporters often dragged into the chaos.
Faleke questioned the absence of a new national Fuji icon capable of matching the influence of legends like the late Sikiru Ayinde Barrister, General Kollington Ayinla, K1 De Ultimate, Obesere, Pasuma, and Saheed Osupa. He lamented that the so-called younger generation of Fuji musicians are preoccupied with copying their predecessors or inheriting their feuds rather than carving their own niche.
In stark contrast, he praised the success of Afrobeats artists—many of them Yoruba—who have taken their genre global through collaboration, branding, and digital innovation without bickering over titles or status.
“Afrobeats artistes… united and turned their genre into an international currency,” he wrote. “They didn’t need to fight over who is the ‘Oluaye of YouTube’ or ‘Balogun of Spotify.’”
Faleke called out specific examples within the Fuji scene: K1 De Ultimate, who is revered but often accused of sidelining others; Obesere, more recognized for his viral sound than innovation; and the seemingly unending feud between Pasuma and Saheed Osupa. He added that poor management, lack of branding, and digital inertia have further held back Fuji from evolving and capturing the attention of Gen Z or global audiences.
“Instead of forming a Fuji Academy, they are forming cliques of quarrels. Instead of organizing talent hunts, they are organizing insult sessions on streaming platforms,” he noted.
As the world increasingly embraces African sounds, Faleke argues that Fuji—with its rich percussion, proverbs, and call-and-response style—should be a global export. But internal conflicts and outdated practices have relegated it to a regional genre struggling to modernize.
He concluded with a passionate plea to Fuji musicians—both old and new—to abandon destructive rivalries, embrace unity, invest in branding and talent development, and reclaim Fuji’s rightful place on the global music stage.
“A podcast is not your bedroom. Your mouth is not a weapon. And your legacy is bigger than your beef,” Faleke declared. “Let’s save Fuji. Or let’s admit we failed it.”