Bio : The Lijadu Sisters

To hear Yeye Taiwo Lijadu tell the story, the origins of her legendary Afrobeat group with her twin Kehinde Lijadu as The Lijadu Sisters is a matter of accident, motherly determination, and Orisha providence. One of the few female acts in the heyday of 1970’s Nigerian music, The Lijadu Sisters’ music mirrors the magnificence of that country’s cultural golden age, which arose in the wake of national independence. (Their second cousin, Fela Kuti, also enjoyed success during that era.) Spanning from the mid-’60s into the 1980s, The Lijadu Sisters released five indelible albums that embodied Afrobeat, funk, reggae, rock, disco, and soul to create an uplifting, empowered amalgam that is wholly their own sound and vision. This summer/ fall/ spring, The Numero Group is honored to re-introduce one of Africa’s most iconic Sister acts to a new generation of listeners.

Born in 1948 in the North-Central town of Jos and raised in Ibadan, twin sisters Yeye Taiwo and Kehinde Lijadu embodied the figure of the Ibeji in the Yoruba tradition. The Ibeji –represented by the Orisha twin figures, also named Taiwo and Kehinde– are an auspicious blessing for a family, one that means they are granted protection by the Orisha Shango. “Taiwo” means "the first twin to taste the world” while “Kehinde” –believed to be the elder twin or chaperone– sends Taiwo into the world first to determine if it is time to be born.

“Our parents were very funny in terms of how they make you roll on the floor just killing yourself with laughter,” Yeye Taiwo recalls. “They were also very strict though and didn't take nonsense.” One night in 1958, their mother took them to the movies to see The Belles of St. Trinian's. “In the middle of the night, Mom woke up to see Kehinde writing something in her school book,” Yeye Taiwo recalls with a laugh. Thinking it was a secret love letter, she discovered instead that Kehinde had written a song. “Who are you writing this song for?” To which the twin replied: “Nobody. The movie you took us to, that's what inspired me.” Shocked and delighted, The Lijadu Sisters’ mother made a deal with her children: “Finish this song as far as you're able to, but don't write on your school books anymore.” The next day, their mother returned with exercise books to write their songs in, as well as a handful of 45s and long-playing records to inspire the girls. With that, The Lijadu Sisters were born (again).

Taken by the likes of American jazz singers like Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald, South African star Miriam Makeba, and juju founding fathers I.K. Dairo and Haruna Ishola, the sisters worked diligently at their school studies and on their own songs, keeping their mother’s advice close to heart: “When you write songs, write songs that people will listen to today, relate to, and want to continue relating to, as it was yesterday, tomorrow and every day of life, for eternity.”

While the sisters never formally studied music or played instruments, they sang in Catholic school choirs and worked on their own songs. When it came time to start playing with a band, they would “compose by mouth, the drummers would listen to us and follow the rhythm.” Working closely with their longtime producer Biddy Wright, they would then teach the song to the other players.

The year 1969 saw the release of their first single, a version of Miriam Makeba’s “Jikele Maweni,” backed with their own “Iyami Jowo.” Yeye Taiwo says that song dates back to 1965, when a conflict with their mother led to heartbreak and sorrow: “I was ironing our school uniforms and all of a sudden, this song came out of me non-stop. I was singing that song, ironing the uniforms. My sister and mother were listening to me. They were crying, too.” Only at the smell of the burning uniform did they stop their tears. “That was an accidental song.” They released their first album Urede in 1974, which has still never been released in the West, but celebrates its 50th anniversary this year (2024). The title track is “a story of a young girl who has very cruel, harsh parents,” Yeye Taiwo says, noting how that cruelty extends to teachers and Nigeria at large. “Society does not care about children so they grow up to be lawless adults and criminals.” 

Another accident led to one of The Lijadu Sisters’ most loved albums, 1976’s Afrobeat classic Danger. “We would invite members of the public when we recorded: our friends, anybody we knew, anybody we didn't know on the street market, women, soldiers, truck pushers, drivers, anybody, everybody, students who come. And we always cooked, we always brought food and drinks to the studio,” Yeye Taiwo says. But when it came time to record, the infamous Nigerian National Electric Power Authority (NEPA) struck. As Fela Kuti drummer Tony Allen once quipped on his 1984 classic, Never Expect Power Always, such blackouts are routine in the country, forcing the sisters and their entourage outdoors.

As they jammed, the sisters started singing a new song they didn’t even intend to record that day. It was about Yeye Taiwo’s boyfriend of the time, legendary rock drummer Ginger Baker, a love song, but also a song about the dynamics of power, political corruption, and patriarchy. They called it “Danger.” Biddy Wright “just jumped up and shouted: ‘This album is called Danger and this is your hit! This is your number one!’” It also established the precedent of their songwriting, which can veer from the personal to the political, addressing both at once. “Life's Gone Down Low” is both a plea to a lover and to nuclear disarmament.

Mother Africa followed the next year, but while they enjoyed some success, it wasn’t easy being a woman artist in the male-dominated music business of Nigeria. They were of a new generation of women who refused to be defined or sidelined by domestic/ child-rearing duties, a bold statement to make in that country. “At that time, it was very, very difficult for us to do anything in Nigeria as singers.” Even playing concerts became hard, as promoters expected the Sisters to sleep with them for gigs. “Show business in Nigeria was strictly a man's thing to do in those days,” Yeye Taiwo remembers about their reception at the time. “We were doing it because we loved it. But they thought it was a joke.”

Buoyed by Biddy Wright’s keyboard work, 1978’s Sunshine found The Lijadu Sisters expanding their reach, incorporating more disco and funk rhythms into their music. “Reincarnation” itself was one of the earliest examples of reggae making its way over to Africa, its slinky groove powering a song that Yeye Taiwo says is a tribute to their mother and their upbringing. “If there is reincarnation, I would love to come back to the same point where I was born,” she explains about the lyrics.

In 1979, The Lijadu Sisters released their most realized album, Horizon Unlimited. Optimistic and empowered in outlook, irresistible in its rhythms, the album sets Yeye Taiwo and Kehinde’s vibrant harmonies in golden sunlight. “Come On Home” is a plea to a cousin to not turn his back on their family and other songs reference the power of Ifá and Yoruban history. “Erora” addresses the world in conflict, sadly just as crucial now as it was back in the late 1970s. “The world is very delicate, the world is on the precipice with what we’re doing with nuclear power,” she says. ‘Money can ruin the world yet money can repair, can build houses, can feed people, can build hospitals.” “Gbwomo” is dedicated to the Yoruba orisha Oshun, the mother of all mothers, the lyrics giving tribute to what she contributes to humanity. Throughout the album, the talking drum is front and center, often opening each song. That was intentional, Yeye Taiwo explains: “We always used the drums to lead the other musical instruments into our songs. It roots it in the tradition and then you can build off that.” Ancient roots lead to modern fruits.

On tour in the United States in the 1980s, Kehinde suffered a fall down a staircase that led to many decades of health issues and pain. Plans for more recording and touring were scrapped as a result. In 2019. Kehinde Lijadu joined the ancestors, leaving Yeye Taiwo, “the first twin to taste the world,” to remain here and carry on The Lijadu Sisters’ legacy. Losing her twin sister was “like having surgery, I am only half here,” she explains. She keeps her sister close in heart and mind and speaks for both of them.

Looking back on their musical legacy some forty years later, the words of their mother still resonate: “Remember your roots, remember that people will be looking up to you. Sing about things that are happening in real time to people in the real world. There’s anger, there’s happiness, there’s marriage, there’s love. Babies come, people die, angels descend, disasters strike,” she says. “Sing about those things. Those things are still happening because this is life. Do your part to make things better.” With The Lijadu Sisters, the message in their music carries us ahead into the future.