Bisade Ologunde, Lagabaja as we all know him, was born to D.A Ologunde on the 17th of January, 1960.
Not much is known of his childhood and earlier life which must be why he made it, so his name forever remains in the history books; he became a superhero in the most batman way possible.
He had a critical understanding of music and the power it held; He began employing it in his journey.
Lagabaja had a habit, you see. The year he would turn 31–he played the talking drum and Saxophone. Unlike most artists who made use of these instruments, he, on the other hand, let the tools use him.
With this vital knowledge of the reform he could build with music leading the way, he formed a band. It would be efficient to note that Lagbaja sang and still sings afrobeat, the original genre coined by fela Kuti and not Afrobeats as we hear today from artists like Burna Boy and the likes.
His artistry was targeted at one thing, just as fela kuti’s was. Still, he somehow managed the blend of old and new without losing sight of new or taste of old, he implored all his senses into recreating the sound that was aimed at rejuvenating the soul, and he did all this behind a mask.
That is what intrigued the more prominent public the most, the thirst for answers when anonymousness fills the air, the questions you ask yourself after listening to IKIRA or WE AND ME PART II, the grasping at straws that just leaves you wanting more.
His understanding of allowing music to flow through you and not the other way round is what made him pick this career path. It was not about who was singing it but what was being sung and how it moved on to transform you. How does what is being sung define you?
Who are you when all is stripped from you, and there is nothing left but the rhythmic beating of your heart?
The name in itself, “Lagabaja”, bears the signature of his musical journey, lagbaja meaning Jane doe in the Yoruba culture, already precedes his mask-wearing and gives him a faceless appearance.
Signifying everyone who has never known who they were or who society made of them by being no one himself.
You could hear yourself in his music and dissect your realities by inserting them into him.
He had a plight of becoming a voice of the voiceless, especially in such a politically corrupt country like Nigeria.
The mask he wears bears a more symbolic meaning that is usually attached to it; you see, in the Yoruba culture, there is egungun tradition (Egungun meaning masquerade) they acted as intermediaries between the land of the living and the gods, which is by extension what lagabaja was genuinely trying to achieve with his music.
He has somehow managed to plunge afrobeat deeper into its quest for justice than its creator did.
Just like he sang in Surulere,
‘After many many years of waka for bush,
Eventually we enter democracy,
If democracy go work,to
We must get patience small.’
A time would come when all would be well with Nigeria, but we will have to wait. In skentele skontolo, however, he talks about the fluidity of gender,
Ko si fashion kan to ju tia lo
Iro ati buba yen pelu gele skontolo
Ah! Gele o dun bii ka mo we
Ka moo we ko dabi ko ye ni
He talks about how no fashion style is above anyone, and it is sweet to wear, so wear it.
He, of course, knew the Achilles heel of the newer generation was the subtle infusion of comedy.
He has a family now; all those years of searching for yourself put your thought order into perspective.
The things that matter to you now or at least should matter to you; discovering who you are through music never really stops because music has no end because it has no ending or ceasing point.