What Alté’s Critics Don’t Seem To Grasp

Last weekend a four word quote tweet—“11 years upcoming btw”—revived the now tired conversation around Alté’s slump in renown. The brusque tweet was in response to a set of pictures Cruel Santino had posted. In the pictures, he can be seen posing with his friends at Rahman Jago’s High Fashion store. Yesterday, influencer and culture journalist, Joey Akan, keeping with his reputation for polarizing and often inane takes, contributed to the conversation by way of a succession of tweets. His tweets criticized Alté acts for what he perceives to be their predilection for rejecting the sonic forms that impelled them to commercial acclaim, in favor of obscure sounds—in his words “tuneless, spineless, useless Nintendo music”—music he claims caters to the whims of a select few. Music Twitter before he tweeted was a heap of dry tinder waiting for a spark. His tweets expectedly set the conversation ablaze. 

It’s easy to brush off his critique as feckless bluster, after all, they were intended in bad faith. But the resonance of the conversation, within both ends of the spectrum, points to it being worthy of some thought. Akan and his ilk view the Alté movement as a promising commercial and cultural prospect that was thwarted by the unwillingness of its leaders to yield to utilitarianism. In other words, Alté artists tanked their commercial prospects by being unencumbered with the concept of creating music with an audience in mind. His long-winded polemic invoked words and phrases like “being of service,” “art without utility,” and “scale.” 

The reality is that Alté’s loss of momentum was in part due to the unwillingness of its pioneers to adapt to a pop formula—signing to big labels, creating likable music, remaining atop the public conversation (through any means), and releasing according to a consistent schedule. What critics, Akan and his contingent, however, don’t seem to grasp is that that is precisely the point. Alté by its very nature was designed to bristle against the homogeneity and creative inhibitions of mainstream pop. A feature, not a bug. Experimentation in art is a lot like rolling a dice, sometimes you toss it in the air and it lands on a favorable outcome. Other times, not so much. 

These artists are aware of the risks they run by remaining true to their artistic integrity as opposed to chasing commercial appeal. Commercial art is the broad street with a bevy of glamorous prizes lined at its edges. The bulk of artists will always travel down that road. And that’s okay, commercial art equally comes with its own set of challenges and serves a purpose in society. Non-commercial art, however, is the narrow, crater-ridden, street. Commercial artists have chart positions, plaques, awards, and the spoils of fame to show for their efforts. Non-commercial artists seldom have more than plaudits from cultural commentators and the support of core fans, to show for theirs.  So, it’s especially shameful that a prominent cultural commentator would stir up a coordinated effort against Nigeria’s nascent experimental scene. 

True success is defined on personal terms. Not just by vanity metrics or the prevailing definition of success. What is so dreary about making music for a curated audience and having fun while at it? It’s interesting how people casually skewer and denigrate public figures for not being at the zenith of their industry, while simultaneously leading average lives. How many of us are the highest ranked at our jobs? How many of us hew according to the socially acceptable standards of success, as regards looks or wealth or social standing? Why should anyone erect a different yardstick for Alté acts who define success by their faithfulness to artistic integrity? Referring to Jesus’ infamous words “Pull the log out of your eye before attempting to extract the speck from your brother’s.”