There was a time, a time when Highlife music was the heartbeat of Ghana. It played at weddings, funerals, political rallies, independence celebrations, and even in the background of your father’s first love story. Today, it’s barely a whisper, a nostalgic playlist for trotro drivers and old men with transistor radios and only immortalised at funerals.
So… what happened? I wish I could give straight answers but I can’t as I’m still trying to make sense of it myself and maybe asking the right questions might lead us somewhere or at least make us more uncomfortable in the best way. There are questions that have been keeping me up at night about the fading echo.
How did Highlife music decline just like that?
It was everywhere. Then it was nowhere. No proper send-off, no national announcement. We just blinked, and suddenly Hiplife and Afrobeat were in charge. Highlife didn’t even get a farewell concert. Did it retire quietly, or were we just too distracted by other rhythms and Auto-Tune to notice?
Did we really convince ourselves that Highlife “evolved” into Afrobeats?
Because no disrespect, but that’s like saying palm wine “evolved” into champagne. Sure, you might find bits of Highlife influence in Afrobeats, but don’t get it twisted — what we’re hearing today is the glittered-up cousin who moved to Lagos and changed their accent.
Or did producers just give up?
Were they tired of layering guitar chords and live horns, or was it simply easier to drop a loop from FL Studio and call it a day? Maybe the energy it took to build a true Highlife record wasn’t worth the YouTube views. Or maybe they thought no one cared anymore. (Plot twist: they were partially right.)
Did the musicians lose the plot too?
Like… why did so many run off to do Afropop and Gospel halfway through? Was it about the message, the money, or the numbers? Or did they start feeling like Highlife was only for their uncles at funerals and not for people who wear skinny jeans and bucket hats?
Is it just me, or did the instrumentalists go extinct?
Where did they all go? The sweet-toned saxophonists, the wild lead guitarists, the smooth keyboardists? So they all vanished? Did they migrate? Retire? Or did they get tired of being underpaid and underappreciated by an industry that’s now more beat than band?
Why did we stop mentoring the next generation?
We loved to say, “Back in the day…” but did we actually prepare the next day? Who trained the kids to play those intricate licks and horn arrangements? Or did we just assume Highlife would magically reproduce itself like termites during rainy season?
Is foreign content the villain here, or just a convenient excuse?
Because sure, we’ve all been hypnotized by R&B, Hip-hop, and Naija bangers. But are they really to blame? Or did we just fall too easily for anything with a foreign accent and slick visuals? Did we trade our gold for glitter… again?
Why does social media pretend Highlife doesn’t exist?
Try scrolling TikTok for 10 minutes and you’ll find every genre from Amapiano to afrobeats to Zouk, but good luck finding a Highlife track. What is it? Too slow for dance challenges? Too deep for 15-second content? Or is it just not “aesthetic” enough for Gen Z?
Did the Highlife legends miss the digital train?
You ever tried searching for your favorite classic Highlife song on Spotify or Apple Music? You would be lucky sometimes but other times, it’s like trying to find a fufu chop bar in Rome. Poor metadata, missing albums, and unmastered audio from someone’s cassette tape. How did we let a whole generation miss the streaming era?
Why did we fail at documenting Highlife?
Where are the archives? The books? The documentaries? The well-curated playlists? Or did we just leave the legacy of an entire genre in the hands of funeral DJs and YouTube algorithms? Because, clearly, we weren’t too serious about remembering.
Has digitization been a blessing or a curse?
Highlife was a genre made for live experience. So maybe streaming killed its vibe. Or maybe it was how we digitized it half-heartedly, with no effort to present it well. We brought it online, yes… but we also buried it under terrible audio quality and zero promotion.
Are we scared of sounding ‘old’?
Be honest. When you hear a Highlife song now, don’t you almost feel older? Why? Because we’ve boxed the genre into nostalgia instead of letting it evolve with swagger. Maybe if Highlife wore designer and had tattoos, we’d respect it more?
Do we even care anymore?
That’s the scariest question. Is it apathy, or just forgetfulness? Do we even realize what we’ve lost? Or are we too busy vibing to the next club banger to care about the sound that carried our forefathers stories?
Is there still hope? Or are we just romanticizing a ghost?
Can Highlife make a real comeback? Or are we just holding on to a memory which is the musical equivalent of writing letters in an email era? Maybe the rhythm still lives, maybe the soul is just sleeping. Or maybe… it’s waiting for us to wake up.
Nothing but questions, no real answers.
Just the confused thoughts of someone who grew up hearing Highlife at every corner but now has to dig to even hear a trace of it. Maybe the genre isn’t dead, maybe we are just disconnected. But still… I can’t shake the feeling that we let something sacred slip through our fingers. Maybe I need to talk about it more. Would you share it with everyone if I did?
