I believe that music is another form of news. Music is another

Hear the words of Lil Wayne, who spoke with the conviction of a prophet of rhythm: “I believe that music is another form of news. Music is another form of journalism to me so I have to cover all the areas with my album.” These words resound like a drumbeat across the ages, for they remind us that art is not only beauty but testimony, not only entertainment but revelation. In his voice we hear the cry of the ancient bard, the griot, the troubadour—the one who bore witness through song so that the people might know themselves and their world.

From the beginning of human history, before the printing press, before the glowing screen, there were always those who carried the news of the people in their voices. The griots of West Africa sang the genealogies of kings and the battles of warriors, so that history would never be forgotten. The prophets of Israel raised psalms to cry against injustice and to call the people back to righteousness. In every age, music has been a journalism of the soul, telling truths that parchment and ink alone could not contain. Lil Wayne, though clothed in the tongue of the modern, stands in this ancient lineage.

Consider the tale of Bob Dylan, who in the 1960s sang songs that were more than melodies—they were dispatches from the battlefield of civil rights and protest. “The Times They Are A-Changin’” became not only a song but a headline carried on the wind, a report of struggle and hope. Like a journalist, Dylan covered the movements of his age; like a poet, he translated them into rhythm. And like Dylan, Lil Wayne declares that his album must cover all the areas, for an artist who is true cannot report only the pleasant, but must also reveal the painful, the unjust, the raw.

This truth is echoed in the struggles of enslaved Africans in America, who sang spirituals as coded messages, songs that were both worship and news. A simple melody might carry word of escape, of resistance, of survival. Those songs were not mere tunes; they were lifelines, a form of journalism that informed and inspired. So too today, the rap and hip-hop artist tells of streets unseen by politicians, of struggles ignored by traditional media. Through rhythm and rhyme, they give voice to those whom the world would silence.

The lesson is clear: music carries responsibility. It is not only a mirror of the heart but a window for the people. If you create, whether through song, word, or deed, remember that you are also telling a story of your time. Do not hide from truth. Do not shrink from the uncomfortable. Speak of the joys and sorrows, the triumphs and defeats, for in so doing you fulfill the sacred duty of the artist as witness.

Practically, this means: when you listen to music, listen deeply. Ask, “What truth is this revealing? What news of the human spirit does it carry?” And when you create, let your work be more than decoration—let it be testimony. Write of your community, sing of your struggles, tell of the silent voices. For in this way, you become not only an artist but a journalist of the soul, bearing witness to the age you live in.

Thus, the words of Lil Wayne are not boast, but sacred reminder: “Music is another form of news.” And indeed, long after the newspapers are dust and the broadcasts are forgotten, it is the songs that remain, telling future generations what we loved, what we suffered, what we hoped. So let your music, your words, your life itself, be a record of truth. For in this way, you join the ancient chorus of those who sang not only to delight the ear, but to awaken the heart, and to proclaim the eternal news of humanity.