Jiire Smith: Mapping the Common World in Music

Sleeveless pant suits, a soft voice that surprises through its elan. A band of musicians in the background, harmonizing, portraying the vibe of a time long passed, not without melancholy.
The scene I watch through my phone triggers my curiosity. A few days back, the artist posted stories with behind-the-scenes, a setup of the location, serving as a small insight into the hours and efforts poured into the music video. The one I am watching now on my phone. Someone who has a vision and executes it, someone who is brave enough to share with us, the silent observers, that he is creating something, that he cares what it becomes. Somewhat of a rare sight these days, at least in the bubble that I find myself in. He just graduated from my university; I think it's time for an interview!

A few days later, I have a voice memo in my inbox. An interview where the questions are written out and the responses are packaged and sent on their way is not ideal, but the responses seem thought through and poetic in a way that may have been lost in a real-time conversation. 

Through this interview, I understood that Jiire’s music career is a beautiful tandem between individual journey and unfiltered connection. Creating and believing in the music is something he does by himself, and in a form of lonesomeness: “I go to a piano room, I close the door, and I sit there alone, and I just play music. If that piano room happens to be in Abu Dhabi, in Abuja, in Lagos, in Kigali, as long as there's a piano and there's nobody else there.” Yet the beauty of the songs forms itself when it helps others understand that their experiences are shared.
“But guess what, there's a million other people who have had that same experience or something with the same colours, and that is how I want people to connect with my music, I want them to see themselves in what I write and what I sing”. 

A balancing act between private and public; my mind wanders towards Hannah Arendt. To share, and to exist in the public sphere, to Arendt, is a form of self-love, an invitation for what she calls “public happiness”. In doing something as ‘simple’ as confronting your own fears, your thoughts, and the things that matter to you, finding their colors, and then courageously stepping into the public to be met and engaged with, is the true artistry of (wo)man.

In the endeavor of leading this magazine, the most important exercise is to retrain what we think of as politics. The construction of a common world amongst us is aided by the journey of becoming someone and making oneself receptive to others. That can happen in music as much as anywhere else, and it centers honesty, or what we call “authenticity” today, more than polished appearances. 

“Hello Mira, this is Jiire here, and if I had not previously responded it's because I am Batman when I was out saving the day, but I'm here now, so let's get on with it.”

Jiire grew up in Abuja, the capital of Nigeria, in a middle-class family. He describes his childhood as having “the backdrop that [...] every child [...] should have to prepare for a future that hopefully propels you farther than where you started out”. 

He also says it allowed him to have dreams. Not through bedtime stories of fantasies and faraway kingdoms, but because his mother had always made it clear that goals are good, and everything is possible. 

“My mom taught me that there isn't any place that is out of reach, especially in light of when you're starting small and maybe a lot of doors feel closed. Lots of people that look like you or like you haven't been in those rooms, there isn't anywhere that is out of reach. So I live my life feeling that nothing that I want and it's good for me is out of reach. Yeah, my mom taught me that. It's that story I remember being told as a kid. It wasn't really much of night time story readers from our parents. No, I don't. We actually did experience getting told stories. No fairytales. There's no fairies in our culture.”

Perhaps without knowing, music has been like a fairy for Jiire Smith… 

“At a time in my life when I was in a dark hole, the only thing that could reflect my feelings and my worldview was in music. There are albums that I listened to, that brought me to tears, brought me joy, got me back on my feet, [...], so I find that music touches the human soul in a way that no other art or science form does, it's in the vibration of someone's voice, it's in the melody of an instrument, and all these things come together to reach your heart in a way that even you yourself can't describe.”

He also comes back to being someone for others– the idea of the individual formed and forming in both the private and the public. I asked him what masculinity means to him, but the answer I received seems to transcend gender roles, and perhaps offer a vision for what humans can be for each other instead. 

“You know, I have this metaphor of [...] a lighthouse, like you're on the river and it's dark, and you've travelled so far, and there's a lighthouse far away that gives you a direction to go and how to arrive safely and steadily. I think that's what being masculine means to me. [...] A representation of light in people's lives that allows them to find home, find comfort, find their way back to themselves and [...] this is not something that's exclusive to being masculine. I think it should be for everyone; we should all be a light for other people's lives, not just ours.”

Music, too, can be that light. Reminding someone of the reality around them, the freedom to dream, the return to oneself, and the simultaneous openness to connect with those around you. 

Check out @jiiresmith on instagram, and his music on Spotify.