Protest songs, those associated with a movement for social change, have existed at least since the psalms of grassroots Protestant religious revival movements in the United States. Two of the best-known protest songs – Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War” and Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On”- were by Americans. It is easy to fall into the trap of believing protest music is a quintessentially American art form. But one of the greatest protest albums of all time, Fela Kuti & Afrika 70’s Zombie (Coconut, 1977), comes from another continent entirely; Africa.

Formerly a British colony, by November of 1960,  newly independent Nigeria enacted its own republican form of government. This system, however, was chaotic as there were sharp political and cultural divides among the nation’s dominant ethnic groups: the Hausa in the north, the Igbo in the east, and the Yoruba in the west. By 1966, these tensions led to a coup by Igbo soldiers, resulting in the assassination of various military and political figures, including the Prime Minister. But the coup plotters struggled to form a central government, and Senate President Nwafor Orizu handed control to General Johnson Agulyi-Ironsi and the Nigerian Army. Under Aguiyi-Irons, the First Republic terminated, a military dictatorship strengthened its grasp, and the anti-Igbo pogrom began. The pogrom would result in the genocide of between 8,000 and 30,000 Igbos. Aguiyi-Irons was assassinated after six months in office and divisions just continued to deepen. By 1967, the Eastern part of the country declared independence and renamed itself the Republic of Biafra. The resulting Nigerian Civil War lasted 30 months and was one of the deadliest wars in modern history. Historians estimate casualties to be somewhere between one and three million. After crushing the Biafra rebellion, Nigeria experienced an oil boom. Despite the drastic growth in revenue, the Nigerian government did little to improve the living standards of the population at large. 1975 and 1976 brought two more coups. Things were out of control, oppressive and harsh for almost all Nigerians outside of a handful of elites.

Throughout this time, Olufela Olusegun Oludotun Ransome-Kuti – more commonly known as Fela Kuti – began developing his musical career. By 1968, Kuti and Tony Allen created Afrobeat; a combination of funk, jazz, salsa, calypso, highlife, and traditional Yoruba music. In 1969, Kuti brought his band, Nigeria 70, to the United States. While there, he became associated with the Black Panther Party. The Party heavily influenced his music and political views. In 1970, Kuti began denouncing bandleaders who adopted British honorifics. By 1972, he opened The Shrine, a venue equal parts dance club and political gathering place. The following year brought Gentleman (EMI, 1973) – the first fully-formed Afrobeat album – featuring songs criticizing the mentality of Africans who adhere to European customs and clothing. With Alagbon Close (Barclay, 1974) Kuti describes the harsh tactics used by police to control society and the mistreatment of the impoverished.

As Kuti became increasingly vocal, he began to draw unwanted attention from those in power. On April 30, 1974, police raided his home, searching for marijuana. Possession of the drug was punishable by up to ten years in jail. Its cultivation could be a death sentence. After the police failed to find any contraband, they tried again a week later. Even worse, during the second raid, police tried to frame Kuti by placing the drug at his home. By November, an even larger police force destructively raided his home. These last two raids resulted in Expensive Shit (Sounds Workshop, 1975) and Kalakuta Show (EMI, 1976). Two singles, “Noise for Vendor Mouth” (Barclay, 1975) and “Everything Scatter” (Barclay, 1975) targeted Nigerian politicians for their lies. Ikoyi Blindness (Barclay, 1976) attacked the Nigerian elite class for emphasizing their status in society and were blind to those who lived in the ghettos. By 1977, Kuti was a prominent target for an oppressive government trying to maintain control. But rather than shy away to protect himself, Kuti pushed himself further into activism. While he released politically oriented works in the past, they paled compared to Zombie. 

Its title track characterizes members of the Nigerian army as blindly following orders and not thinking for themselves. In between recitations of ordinary military commands – “Attention! Quick march! Slow march! Salute!” – female vocalists mock the followers as zombies. The song ends with a leader demanding order, but such calls are “dismissed.” As with much of Kuti’s music at this point, the song is incredibly funky, with Allen’s polyrhythmic drums and Kuti’s slicing saxophone solos. IIn case the listener missed his point on “Zombie,” the following tracks – the more laidback “Mister Follow Follow” and the mid-tempo “Observation is No Crime” – further underscored Kuti’s protestations.

The regime in power, led by Kuti’s once classmate General Olusegun Obasanjo, was furious. While annoyed by Kuti’s prior works, Zombie pushed military leaders over the edge. On February 18, 1977, the army sent 1,000 soldiers to Kuti’s compound to burn it down and beat every occupant they could catch, including Kuti. Kuti’s 77-year-old mother was thrown out of a second-floor window, suffering injuries that later led to her death. The response to Zombie cost Kuti so much; friends, a parent, his community. But he persisted. Kuti continued to stand up for what he believed in, releasing albums with a political focus and starting a political party. 

Make no mistake, Zombie is an excellent piece of art. The songs are catchy, diverse, and unbridled to musical categories. It also had a significant influence on music as a whole. In Miles: The Autobiography (Simon & Schuester, 1989), the trumpeter who changed music countless times throughout his career selected Kuti, along with Prince and Kassav’, as the future of music. Erykah Badu, Nas, and Beyonce have all cited Kuti as an influence. In 2021, Kuti was nominated for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. But perhaps Zombie’s greatest legacy lies not in a groove, stylistic idea, or specific sound but in the importance of an artist to stand up for what they believe in, no matter the outcome.