Not so long ago, a weekend in Kampala wasn’t complete without the rhythmic pulse of a live band echoing through the night. You’d hear the sweet brass of Afrigo Band at Club Obligato, the harmonies of Eagles Production in full swing, or the soulful strumming from Bakays down in Jinja. There was something raw, something real, about these performances. It wasn’t just music—it was a story, a legacy, a heartbeat.
In its place? Slick, fast-rising cover bands like Janzi, Abeeka, and others who are taking over the local entertainment scene—one polished rendition at a time
At its core, a band is a group of people who come together to create something original. They rehearse, argue, compromise, and grow—building not just songs but a shared identity. That’s what made Uganda’s vintage bands so special. Each one had its own story, its own flavor.
Afrigo Band – a living legend now marking 50 years.
The once-beloved Eagles Production, now a memory.
Bakays from Jinja, Kads Band, Simba Sounds, Jekaki Band, and Sali Solis Reggae Band, all part of a proud, musical past.
But time, as it always does, moves on. And with it, the faces that once lit up the stage are also growing older. Afrigo Band still performs—yes—but Papa Moi (Moses Matovu), Joanita Kawalya, Rachel Magoola, and Herman Sewanyana can’t carry the torch forever. Many of the young talents they nurtured, like Bazanye (aka Rude Boy Devoh), have already moved on to other ventures.
While Afrigo might charge 15 million Ugandan shillings to cover its costs, a cover band can show up for under 1.5 million. For bar owners, event planners, and wedding organizers trying to stretch every shilling, the math is simple.
And it’s not just about money. Cover bands bring convenience. They play what the crowd wants to hear. They’ll mimic Beyoncé, Bruno Mars, or Maddox Ssematimba without missing a beat. They’re efficient, mobile, and everywhere.
There’s something bittersweet about watching legends fade. Afrigo Band once chose its gigs carefully, performing only at high-end events or at their beloved Club Obligato. These days, they go wherever there’s a paying audience—adaptation forced by survival.
It feels a bit like watching your childhood home turn into a shopping mall. You understand why it’s happening—but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Like cassettes, CDs, and Walkmans that gave way to streaming and Bluetooth, the traditional Ugandan band is quietly becoming part of the past. Technology, changing tastes, and economic pressures are rewriting the rules of the music scene.
We gain convenience and accessibility, yes. But we also risk losing something priceless—authenticity. The sound of fingers on guitar strings, voices that crack with emotion, drums that beat from the heart, not a laptop.
Cover bands are not the enemy. They’re part of the evolution. But let’s not forget the ones who laid the foundation—the bands that told our stories in song, that gave us music not just to dance to, but to live by.
Because when the last note of Afrigo fades, will we even notice? Or will we be too busy dancing to a cover of a cover, forgetting what once was?
