When Magic System released “Premier Gaou” in 1999, it was just a local hit in Abidjan. Twenty-five years later, it’s one of the most recognizable songs across Africa and its diaspora. But it wasn’t just a catchy beat or a funny lyric that made it last. Premier Gaou” became something deeper. It became the rhythm of resilience.
The song was born out of the zouglou movement, a genre created in Côte d’Ivoire’s universities in the 1990s. It told everyday stories about love, hardship, and survival, set to syncopated rhythms and street slang. Lead singer Salif “A’Salfo” Traoré wrote the lyrics about a woman who left him when he was broke, only to come back when he became successful. “On dit premier gaou n’est pas gaou, oh,” he sings. The first fool isn’t really the fool. Falling for it twice is.
Magic System had no idea the song would travel. But it did. First across West Africa, where it sold more than a million CDs. Then to Paris, where French radio DJs picked it up. Then came the Bob Sinclar remix and a second wave of popularity. In 2002, three years after its release, “Premier Gaou” climbed to No. 4 on the French singles chart. It stayed in the top 100 for nearly half a year.
From there, it became an anthem. It was heard in nightclubs from Brussels to Bamako. Played at weddings in London, baby showers in Dakar, graduation parties in Montreal. The moment the drums dropped, everyone knew what was coming. Aunties waved napkins. Uncles clapped. Kids who didn’t know the words still chanted along. Even if you didn’t speak French or Nouchi, the song made you feel something.
A song that shaped identity, celebration, and sport
“Premier Gaou” became more than a hit. It became part of diasporic identity. In cities like London, New York, and Paris, second-generation Africans heard it and felt a tether to something older than themselves. It reminded people who they were, where they came from, and that they belonged, even in places that told them otherwise.
It also became one of the few African songs to break into the European mainstream without changing for it. It didn’t cater to trends. It didn’t water anything down. As A’Salfo once said, “We gave a certain desire to the African diaspora… we made them believe in Africa.”
Football embraced it too. The song is still used in locker rooms, tunnel walks, and team buses. French legend Thierry Henry was once filmed dancing to it in a team dressing room. Didier Drogba, Magic System’s most famous Ivorian fan, has joined them on stage to sing it.
Younger players, like Spain’s Lamine Yamal, have been spotted vibing to it on matchday playlists in addition to another African rhymic banger: Skales’ 2014 hit “Shake Body.”
It’s not official, but in football culture, “Premier Gaou” might as well be Africa’s national anthem.
Today, over two decades later, the song still plays. At family parties. In clubs. In meme videos. In stadiums. It gets sampled by stars like Burna Boy. Remixed by DJs in New York and Johannesburg. It’s gone from a neighborhood story to a global legacy.
“Premier Gaou” wasn’t just a song. It was a moment. And it still is.
