Soundtrack of the Road… Rail, Sky and Sea: Why Music Travels With Us – Abike Awojobi

I still remember the first time I travelled outside Lagos by road. It was a green Peugeot 504 station wagon, one of those old-school commercial taxis with seven passengers crammed in, luggage tied to the roof with rope and hope. The sun was barely up, but the driver’s stereo was already alive with the sound of Ebenezer Obey. Before we got past Berger, someone had requested Sunny Ade. By the time we hit the long stretch through Ogun State, we were knee-deep in Fela. Nobody complained. It was almost as if the music was the eighth passenger , uninvited, yet completely necessary.

Decades later, not much has changed.

Whether it’s a flight to Abuja, a train ride to Ibadan, a danfo bus across Lagos traffic, or a ferry skimming across the lagoon, Nigerians bring music along for the journey. Earphones, car radios, Bluetooth speakers, airport headphones, it doesn’t matter. The soundtrack must play. It’s an unwritten rule of our travel culture. But why?

There’s science behind the sentiment. Researchers at the University of Groningen found that music reduces anxiety, lifts mood, and even makes time feel like it’s moving faster, an especially welcome gift when you’re stuck in traffic or waiting for boarding to start. Music triggers the brain’s reward system, releasing dopamine. It doesn’t just entertain us; it soothes, distracts, and helps us cope with the unpredictability of travel.

And it’s not only psychological, it’s physiological. Studies from the University of Sheffield suggest music forms a kind of “sonic cocoon,” helping travellers create a personal space even in the most public or stressful environments, like an airport queue, a crowded train station, or a bumpy boat ride. It gives structure to motion, rhythm to chaos.

From a planning and policy point of view, this is worth paying attention to. Public transport operators and regulators may want to consider how the travel experience can be enhanced through curated soundscapes or onboard entertainment. A relaxed passenger is a more cooperative one. A calm driver is less prone to road rage. Even aviation and ferry terminals now invest in ambient music systems, not just for style, but for safety and serenity.

Of course, the playlist depends on the passenger. On the Blue Line early in the morning, commuters are plugged into lo-fi gospel or soft soul. In traffic, danfo drivers blast Fuji to stay sharp. On interstate trips, you’re bound to hear Burna Boy, Simi, maybe a little Osadebe or Teni. One time on a Lagos ferry, I heard someone playing Asa’s “Jailer” softly through a portable speaker. The sound of waves mixed with that soulful guitar riff created a moment I haven’t forgotten.

You’ll find students listening to Rema on flights, business executives zoning out to Sade in the backseat of ride-hailing cabs, retirees reconnecting with Sir Victor Uwaifo on the train, and boat operators tuning into highlife rhythms as they navigate the creeks. The genres are as diverse as the modes of transportand the country itself.

This phenomenon isn’t new. Historically, music has always accompanied movement. Ancient travellers had chants. Traders sang to pass the time and boost morale. Even on the harshest journeys, slave ships, exile routes, refugee trails, music offered comfort, identity, and resistance. Movement and music have always danced together.

Today in Nigeria, that dance is alive and well, on wheels, wings, waves, and rails. Music connects us to memory, place, and possibility. It turns a routine trip into a reflective moment or a shared beat. And in a country where the journey often feels more dramatic than the destination, having a soundtrack is not just optional, it’s essential.

So the next time you’re queuing to board a flight or crammed into a bus, don’t frown when someone presses play. They’re not just making noise. They’re setting the tone. We all do it, curating peace, nostalgia, hype or calm, one track at a time.

Music, like transport, moves people. Literally and emotionally. And when the two come together, what you get isn’t just a trip, it’s a story, one chorus at a time.