Social Experience
From ‘Lessons I'm still learning’ by Sari Azout:
Without a doubt, the hardest thing about building Sublime is that everything has taken longer than I thought. Most things we’ve done, we’ve had to re-do – sometimes multiple times – before we got them right. Simplicity takes an enormous amount of time and effort.
This is the third take on the ideas triggered by a performance I attended.
IV: Cultural translators/bridges — sports, music, art, cinema, dance, literature and conflict.
Music:
In a world where everything seems to highlight our differences, a few things still remind us of our shared humanity. One of those is music. It has a way of bypassing all the usual barriers—borders, languages, race, you name it.
Music connects us on a level where words and gestures can’t compete. It doesn’t matter where you’re from or what language you speak; a good beat or melody can resonate deeply.
If you think about it, music is inherently a social experience. Before recording technology, music was something that brought people together, whether it was one person singing to a group or a group singing together.
Even today, when we listen to recorded music, it’s often about sharing those moments with others—whether at a concert, recommending a song or album to a friend, or curating a playlist for someone special. Making a playlist for a friend or partner is a meaningful gesture, almost like a love language. It’s more than just sharing music; it’s about giving them a memorable experience through sound.
By selecting music that you believe will bring them joy, you’re showing that you understand what makes them happy. It’s a way of saying, “I know you, I care about you, and I think this might bring you comfort or happiness.”
When friends visit, we often introduce each other to new music. I’ll play them some of the songs that have been bringing me joy, and they’ll do the same. We sit and listen together, often with a bottle of wine. It’s a simple but meaningful way to connect.
This kind of thoughtful connection through music isn’t new. It echoes back to simpler times, like a mother singing a lullaby to her child. Just as a mother carefully chooses a soothing song to calm her baby, we choose songs for those we care about to bring comfort, joy, or peace. That simple act of singing not only soothes the child but also strengthens the bond between them—a connection as old as humanity itself.
Music’s social effect doesn’t end there. In places of worship like churches, temples, or synagogues, music plays a special role. Whether it’s hymns, chants, or everyone singing together, people feel uplifted. It helps them rise above their daily struggles and fills them with hope and strength to face whatever challenges come their way.
I’ve experienced this myself. I’ve been to church in the depths of heavy melancholy, and when the singing began, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. The singers on the pulpit were crying, and many in the congregation were too. It felt like we all had burdens that needed to be released, and music became the catalyst for that.
This applies to funerals as well. A heartfelt song creates a space for collective grieving and honoring, offering comfort and solace to those who have lost a loved one. I remember at the wake of a friend I lost, we played the songs she loved, and we all sang along, finding peace in the fact that we had shared those moments with her when she was alive.
At the wake, a colleague of hers performed an ode to Osun, the Yoruba goddess, who was my friend’s favorite deity. The performance gave me goosebumps, and I still think about it from time to time. I remember how it moved me through a range of emotions—from mourning to awe, gratitude, and even anger. It was like transitioning from deep sorrow to the determined strength of a military march.
The powerful rhythm of a war march is designed to unite soldiers and strengthen their resolve as they head into battle. It carries the message that, even though we have lost a comrade, we will press on and achieve our objective together. That perseverance is the greatest honor we can give the fallen. And two words: Fuck death!
As we protest against the hardships of life and the devious machinations of others, songs and chants are used to bring people together around a common cause. They carry the passion of the people and make it impossible for their calls for change to be ignored. It’s sad that protest songs aren’t as common these days, especially when we need them more than ever.
Perhaps protest songs are still being made, but they don’t get the spotlight they deserve, or maybe they’re not as galvanizing as they once were. Who knows? Either way, musicians have their work cut out for them.
The songs being made and popularized in a society reflect the collective mindset of that society. In some African countries, where corruption and incompetence create an overwhelming sense of helplessness, the music often serves as a form of escape or distraction.
After all, who wants to dwell on intractable problems all day long, especially when it feels like there’s little that can be done? When faced with a complex system that seems impossible to dismantle, it’s natural to focus on what can be controlled. In a situation where the government seems determined to bring misery, I can at least bring myself some joy.
But then again, isn’t that what music should do? Bring joy. If a song is causing me intense pain or revealing things I don’t yet have the bandwidth to deal with, why should I listen to it?
That’s why I believe there’s no such thing as 'trash TV.' If you’ve been doing intense cognitive or physical work all day, why would you want to watch something deep and challenging? Sometimes, you need to unwind with something that doesn’t require much thought—just pure, easy entertainment.
And you shouldn’t have to feel ashamed of it or explain yourself to anyone. If anything, it’s TV as comfort or even therapy. It always makes me laugh when people think I’m judging their TV habits. I don’t care what you watch. I might not be in the right headspace to watch the same thing at the moment, but I’m definitely not judging you.
Whatever brings you joy, embrace it. You might be surprised to find that millions of people share your exact preference.
At our core, this is what we’re all seeking: the reassurance that we are not alone in this world, that the emotions and experiences we go through are shared by others.
This becomes especially clear when we go to concerts and find ourselves waving our hands in unison with thousands of others. In those moments, it’s not about the color of our skin, where we are from, or what language we speak. It’s about the shared energy, the connection we feel with the music and with each other.
When Derek and Ballaké performed, for a moment, everyone in the audience bonded over that shared experience. It was a powerful moment that made me want to create more of such bonds.
I often think about how all of Europe gets excited over Eurovision. European nations, along with a few non-European ones, come together to share their music, compete, and celebrate their diverse cultures. It’s more than just a competition; it’s a way for people to appreciate the different sounds and musicians from across the continent.
The Kora Awards were meant to be something similar for Africa, but unfortunately, they didn’t last due to mismanagement. However, that doesn’t mean Africa can’t create something new.
A new event like this could bring us closer by helping us discover and appreciate the incredible variety of music from different African countries. While Afrobeats and Amapiano are the most popular and influential genres, they don’t fully capture the rich diversity of African music.
I believe it’s time for other sounds across Africa to be recognized and celebrated. A platform similar to Eurovision that could bring all of Africa together to showcase this musical diversity would be truly powerful. ☀️
Thanks for reading. If there’s anything you’d like to chat about, or if you have any questions, feel free to shoot me an email. I'd love to hear from you. :) 🍿