A thin line between the thunder of traditional Yoruba percussion and the mesmerizing pulse of South Africa’s log drum, a new sound is finding its footing. Fujipiano, the unlikely marriage between Fuji music and Amapiano sounds, which feels less like a passing experiment and more like a cultural conversation unfolding on the dance floor. 

In a region where music is constantly reinventing itself, trying out every and any genre; Fujipiano happens to be the latest reminder that African sound has never been about abandoning its roots. Instead, it is reshaping tradition in a way that it speaks fluently to the present. 

Nigerian music is known for  reinvention as genres rarely disappear. Instead, they evolve, adapt and find new audiences in unexpected places. Ghanaian gave birth to Afrobeats, street-openers form the fusion of Hip-Hop, Fuji cadence and everyday Nigerian storytelling, and now, another hybrid is slowly carving out its identity; Fujipiano. 

At its simplest, Fujipiano is the fusion between Fuji music, which is a widely accepted genre within the Yorubas and the globally popular Amapiano sound that emerged from South Africa. But reducing Fujipiano to a simple genre mashup misses the deeper story behind it. What we are experiencing now is not just a sonic experimentation, but it is a cultural bridge between two generations, a negotiation between heritage and modernity and a reflection of how Nigerian youths are interpreting the sounds they inherited. 

 To understand why Fujipiano matters, one must first understand the concept of Fuji itself. The genre dates back to the late 1960s through the world of  Sir Sikiru Ayinde  Barrister of blessed memory, who was widely regarded as the father of Fuji music. Having drawn his inspiration from Islamic devotional songs performed during Ramadan, Barrister transformed traditional chants into a rhythmic, percussion-driven style that resonates across the Yoruba communities quickly. 

Fuji was more than entertainment; it was storytelling, social commentary and celebration wrapped in one aspect. In the years that followed, artists like Kind Wasiu Ayinde Marshal and Saheed Osupa expanded the genre’s influence as they started filling halls and street festivals with drums, layered percussion, and call-and-response vocals that somehow turned their audience into participants.

Fuji carried the weight of memory as it echoed through wedding celebrations, Ramadan gatherings and late-night street parties where the music felt inseparable from the community's social life. Yet for years, Fuji seemed to occupy a generational niche as younger generations gravitated towards Afrobeats, hip-hop and other globally oriented sounds, leaving Fuji to be largely associated with the older audience and traditional settings because it belonged to a world that moved at a different pace, one where music was experienced physically, collectively and often locally.

Then Amapiano arrived. Originating in South Africa in the early 2010s, it gradually transformed into one of Africa's most influential musical exports. Amapiano did not just enter in Lagos nightlife; it was absorbed into it. DJs reworked it, producers localized it, and the audience embraced it. During the time of absorption, Fujipiano was brewing quietly, less importantly but more culturally significant.
Fuji started to reappear. 

But not in its original form, rather in fragments; in vocal cadences, lyrical patterns and unmistakable rise and fall of Yoruba chants embedded in contemporary production. It surfaced in  Asake’s “Peace Be Unto You” and then his “Sunmomi”, after which it was noticed in Seyi Vibez, Fujimoto, which demonstrates that Fuji’s essence can exist within modern and  digitized soundscape without losing its identity. 

Fujipiano is the next step in that evolution. Or at least, it is trying to be. 
At its best, Fujipiano is a meeting point between two rhythmic philosophies that share a surprising comparability as both rely on repetition, build atmosphere through rhythm and create immersive listening experiences that are more about feeling than they are about sound. But comparability does not guarantee cohesion. And this is where Fujipiano reveals its promise and limitations as a genre. 

Presently, much of what is labeled as Fujipiano feels incomplete; it feels more like an aesthetic overlay than a fully realized genre. Amapiano beats feel like it carries the  Fuji’s vocals. And street-pop structure borrows Fuji inflexions. The elements coexist, but they do not always integrate. Which raises an uncomfortable but necessary question: is this evolution, or is it appropriation of form without depth? 

The distinction matters because cultural evolution requires more than proximity; it requires intention. It demands that artists do more than just reference tradition; it requires that they engage with it, understand it and reshape it in ways that preserve its essence while allowing it to grow. Without the depth, fusion risks becoming surface-level, something that looks like culture without fully carrying it, more like a caricature.

To dismiss Fujipiano entirely would be equally shortsighted. What it represents, even in its unfinished state, is still significant. It symbolizes that a generation raised in a hyper-globalized world is not entirely detached from its roots and culture. Instead, it is negotiating with them, translating and reframing them within the contexts of its own experiences.  

This is not unique to the sound, but participating artists do it with no particular intensity. Its music has always thrived on collisions of genres, influence and histories. From Afrobeat’s fusion of jazz and Yoruba rhythms to Afrobeat’s fusion of dancehall, pop and hip-hop, the country’s most defining sounds have emerged not from purity but from hybridity. 

Fujipiano fits within that lineage, but it also exposes a tension that feels distinctly contemporary, the balance between reinvention and preservation. For the older generation, Fuji represents continuity and a direct line to cultural memory. For the younger generation of listeners, it feels distant, tied to contexts and spaces that no longer define the everyday lives of people. However, Fujipiano tends to bridge the gap, but by doing so, it inevitably transforms what it touches. The question at hand now is whether that transformation deepens the culture or dilutes it. 

There is no easy answer, but it is clear that Fujipiano reflects a broader truth on modern identity as it is layered, fluid and constantly in negotiation. Today, a young artist can move seamlessly between local and global influence, between tradition and trend, between heritage and innovation. Their music must reflect complexity. Fujipiano, in this sense, is less about sound and more about self-definition. It is what happens when a generation refuses to choose where it comes from and where it is going. 

Whether it becomes a fully realized genre or it fades into the background of Migeria’s ever-evolving music scene is almost beside the point. Its existence alone reveals something essential; culture is not preserved by keeping it unchanged. Its existence alone survives by allowing it to be reimagined. But reimagination comes with responsibility. If Fujipiano is to become more than a passing moment, it is expected to move beyond experimentation and into intention. It must find a way to carry the depth of Fuji, not just its aesthetic, into new soundscapes. Until then, it remains what it has always been: Not a genre. Not a movement. Not yet. But a question, which perhaps is its most honest form. 

Because in a world where culture is constantly sampled, remixed and redistributed at speed, the real challenge is not about creating something new, it is about ensuring that in the process of reinventing, nothing essential is lost.

 IG: anuhola_

Close your eyes, and it’s 2005. The air in the club is thick, and the opening harmonies of Styl-Plus’s ‘Olufunmi’ glide through the speakers. For a moment, it wasn’t just about the voice of one man. It was about the synchronized magic of three distinct voices creating harmonies that capture true love. From the R&B smoothness of Styl-Plus to the infectious energy of P-Square, the early 2000s belonged to the collective.

But walk into a studio in Lagos today, and the room is built for one act. The "tribe" has been traded for the "titan". While Afrobeats conquers the world, it is doing so with solo superstars at the centre, which normally includes Wizkid, Rema, Tems, Burna Boy, and Davido. Boy bands are no longer just rare; they are functionally extinct. This is a structural weakening of the genre’s soul, not merely a shift in style.

To understand what we have lost, we need to start from the beginning. Long before the polished R&B of the 2000s, there was The Remedies. Formed in 1997, Eedris Abdulkareem, Tony Tetuila, and Tony Montana were among the first to "Nigerianize" Hip-Hop, taking American beats and layering them with Yoruba slang.

When their hit ‘Sakomo’ dropped, it wasn't just a song; it changed things. It proved that young Nigerians didn't have to sound like American rappers to be relevant. They were the engine of Kennis Music, the label that effectively built the modern industry. But their story also provided the first blueprint for the “Band Curse”. Their success was massive, yet their split was equally monumental and messy. The moment they went solo, the industry learned that three individual paychecks were more profitable for labels than one.

Emerging from Enugu were the Plantashun Boiz, made up of 2Face (now 2Baba), Blackface, and Faze. They didn't just sing; they lived together, forging a brotherhood that felt like a family. Their success was built on tracks like ‘Knock Me Off’, which proved that Nigerian boys could deliver international-standard vocals. According to Pulse Africa, their debut album ‘Body and Soul’ released in 2000, supposedly sold over 600,000 physical copies. Their dominance earned them numerous accolades just before their split. 2Face’s rise post-split became the dangerous precedent that haunted every group thereafter, proving a solo career could lead you to be a legend.

Another band was Styl-Plus; they brought elegance to the scene. Their debut album, ‘Expressions’ was a masterclass in vocal arrangement. Their emotional love songs, especially ‘Olufunmi’, made them one of the most recognizable voices in Nigerian R&B at the time. Their music was played at weddings, parties, and on radio stations across the country. Their impact was undeniable, sweeping the Channel O Music Video Awards and multiple award nominations at The Headies. Although they didn't break up with a bang, they faded into the background as the industry moved toward solo acts.

Another band from Enugu was Bracket, with ‘Yori Yori’ in 2009; they became the face of ‘Soft Afrobeats’. Their success was validated when they won Artistes of the Year at the 2012 Headies Award and two NET Awards nominations. Their success showed that sweetness and melody could win, but they were eventually pushed to the background. While they never had a messy breakup, they struggled as the industry changed. 

P-Square was the only act that truly challenged solo dominance. Peter and Paul Okoye were a bloodline, turning music into a visual spectacle. They were the highest-paid act in Africa for a decade, winning a total of nine Headies and the MTV Africa Music Award (MAMA) for Group of the Year in 2008, 2009 and 2010. However, their public fallout was the final nail in the coffin. If even identical twins couldn't navigate the pressures of shared money and individual egos, the industry decided the collective model was simply too high-maintenance.
P-Square’s success showed that duos still had a place in Afrobeats. But it also marked one of the last moments where that band format felt central to the industry. Because after that, things began to change.
We can say one of the major reasons boy bands and duos struggle to last is creative disagreement. When more than one artist shares the same platform, they must constantly agree on important decisions. This includes the direction of their music and how they want their careers to grow. Over time, these decisions can lead to tension.

For example, problems within Plantashun Boiz eventually led to the group breaking apart. Each member later pursued a solo career. Something similar happened with P-Square. Even though they were extremely successful, disagreements between the brothers eventually led to their separation.
When these kinds of breakups happen, it reinforces the idea that working alone may be easier.

Money has also been a major factor in the decline of boy bands and duos. In a band or duo, income from concerts, endorsements, and music sales has to be shared between multiple members. As success grows, disagreements about money can become more common. In the early 2000s, physical CD sales and live bookings were the primary revenue streams. Today, the industry is fueled by Streaming Revenue, and the math simply doesn't favor boy bands. For example, on a solo track, the artist takes the entire "artist share" of a stream (roughly $0.003 to $0.005 per play). In a trio like Plantashun Boiz, that fraction of a cent is split three ways before it even reaches their personal bank accounts. This means a group has to work three times as hard to achieve the same individual "take-home" pay as a solo act.

Also, you might think this format works in K-POP, so why is it not thriving in Afrobeats? Groups like BTS or EXO are not accidents. They are built through structured systems, training, management, branding, and long-term planning.
Afrobeats doesn’t have that system.
It is more organic; although that freedom is part of its strength,  it also makes it harder to sustain groups. K-pop builds groups from the ground up. Afrobeats lets artists build themselves.
The structure of the Afrobeats industry has also changed.
Today, the industry is built around the idea of a solo star. Artists are not just musicians anymore. They are brands. Artists like Wizkid, Burna Boy, and Rema have built global careers based on their individual identities. Their music, fashion, and personality all contribute to how they are marketed.

In boy bands or duos, attention has to be shared. This makes it harder for one person to fully dominate the spotlight. As Afrobeats expanded globally, the solo artist model became easier to promote.
Interestingly, while permanent boy bands and duos have become rare, collaboration is now more common than ever.
Instead of forming long-term partnerships, artists now work together on individual songs or even short joint runs that feel like temporary duos. We are also seeing more joint moments and creative pairings that go beyond just one song. Artists link up for multiple tracks, shared sounds, or even short project runs that feel like mini partnerships. Think of the synergy between Wizkid and Asake; creatively, this partnership works because it pairs two fully realized distinct voices. A group requires a "merged identity"; the voices must blend into a singular brand. But in ‘Real’, the power lies in the friction of two separate solo artists. They aren't trying to sound like one unit; they are two kings sharing an EP for ten minutes.

These collaborations give artists the best parts of a duo or group's creative exchange without the long-term pressure that usually comes with staying together.
In today’s Afrobeats, artists don’t need to form boy bands or duos anymore. They can simply recreate that experience when they want, and walk away when they’re done.

So, if you’re waiting for the next P-Square or Styl-Plus to walk through the door, don't hold your breath. Under the current regime of Afrobeats, the "group" as we know it is a dead model. It has been replaced by collaborations that offer the variety of a group without the commitment of a marriage.

For boy bands to actually return, the industry requires more than just "new talent"; it requires a structural change. We need labels to start investing in group development and not just individuals. Fans must also move away from main character worship, where they pick a favorite and pit them against the others. Until then, the system will keep producing solo stars.
What comes next depends on whether Afrobeats is willing to build a system that allows it to happen again.
Because the truth is simple, boy bands and duos didn’t stop working. The industry stopped working for them.

IG- @justcallmetobii

The international reach of Afrobeats is undeniable. Over the last five years, the likes of Rema, Tems, and Ayra Starr have become household names, marking the ushering in of a new guard. Even with its global expansion, Afrobeats has mostly appealed to Africans and their diaspora, only slowly making its way to the Caribbean and the Western world. 
Through social media and the genre’s continued growth, its music and its artists have now reached the East, where new life has been breathed into the music, the events, and the sound - offering a surge of stardom that’s ripe for the taking. 

First coined in the 1970’s, Fela Kuti and drummer Tony Allen’s original ‘Afrobeat’ sound took highlife tunes, American jazz, funk, and traditional Yoruba music and merged them into what became a score for many protests against corruption and human rights abuse. As the years went on Kuti’s band maintained the sound as new artists created different fusions. 

Upon Kuti’s death in 1997, Afrobeats—with the s, a genre more synonymous with Nigerian Pop—  was planted in the 2000s, only sprouting and blossoming into what we now know in the 2010s. With young artists mixing original sounds with global hip hop, R&B, and dancehall in shorter, studio-produced beats, the use of digital technology brought connections around the world. It’s these same techniques that have led to expansion today, as well as the new flavours of Asian influence.

Today’s sounds, though distinct, have changed from Kuti’s smoother fusion. Kuti’s original mixes were featured in legendary Chinese rockstar Wu Bai’s 2016 album Ding Zi Hua (《钉子花》), making him the first mainstream Chinese artist to use the sounds overtly. As the pop and rap scenes have grown across the continent, Bai’s ingenuity spread to wider Asia, alongside the solidification of Asia’s own rap and hip-hop sounds.  

While the pop phenomenon is no stranger to Asia. Afrobeats, Hip-hop, and Rap symbolise a different shift in the culture's taste and, perhaps, its acceptance of outside norms. The current industries, while somewhat established, are still new to Western influence, as major record labels like Def Jam Records have begun to expand their reach globally. African labels, like Sony Music Africa (South Africa), Universal Music Africa, and other independent artists and collectives, like the Hong Kong-based AfroSeas, have made headway on the continent as well, signifying the noticeable gap. 

Like Afrobeat, much of the Rap and Hip-hop throughout Asian countries has lent itself to political commentary and national unity amongst the youth in the continent, advocating against gender inequality, corruption, and more. In the same ethos, the combination of Afrobeats unique sounds and the current identity of Asian hip-hop music play off each other - creating an understanding that’s building its home in the Asian market.  
Since 2020, Indonesia, India, the Philippines, and Thailand have seen the highest growth in Afrobeats listening, according to Spotify. 

Afrobeats Asia, a Bali-based Afrobeats and Amapiano event planner, organises and promotes weekly events across South East Asia, welcoming artists and DJs from Nigeria, South Africa, France and more. Accelerating the engagement and societal investment in the genre’s rise.

Similarly, AfroDesi is a movement centred around Amapiano, Afrobeats, and Bollywood rhythms performed by South Asian and South East Asian artists and DJ’s, on the continent and in major metropolitan cities like London - welcoming a new demographic and its sounds to the conversation. 

South Eastern and Eastern nations have also leveraged the trend bringing Chrisway, Salin in Thailand, Filipino J-Tajor, Sudanese-Japanese group Makki, and Singapore’s Yung Raja to the stage, domestically and worldwide.

And while the youth’s wish has been the industry’s command, an element of exploitation and cultural appropriation could be noted in the nature of the genre’s sudden and exponential acceptance. In a continent where racism and colourism hold deep roots, capitalising on the rise of Afrobeats should not  be misunderstood as an acceptance of its artists, culture, or core beliefs. Basic business principles, like supply and demand, have often been the core of strategic moves that appear inclusive and multicultural, while lacking any true reverence for the craft or its creators.

In another light, in Asia and abroad, social media has exposed Africa and its music to artists, events, media, and style in keeping with the global connectivity made possible through increased exposure, media networking, and rich diasporic communities in the Western world. The opportunity for representation and new narratives is the core of the movement for some, as well as the prelude to many deeper societal investigations - domestically and abroad..

Where mainstream Asian media in the West has often featured one facet of the continent’s creative, professional, or even fashion profiles, new wave artists throughout the nations  offer multilingual and multicultural, social commentary that have created ties to the original Afrobeat movement, capitalised on the current trend, and created a global symbiosis through sound. 
Just enough to, perhaps, add Asia to Afrobeats shining crown.

Cover Credit: @themesabali on Instagram

IG: clungaho

When you think of French black music? What are the first songs to come to mind? ‘Premier Gaou’? Maybe ‘Papaouti’? Surely, there must be more classics you have heard about… No, in actuality, that is a very realistic first experience for many Anglophone music listeners outside of the French world. That said, there are several noteworthy artists yet to discover, and an entire beaming world of sounds for those who dare. At the forefront? We have selected 5 key artists who we wholeheartedly believe, if not their names already ingrained, will be the bridge that transcends languages, continents and sonic landscapes.

Tayc 

Julien Franck Bouadjie Kamgang, better known to the music world as Tayc is a 29-year-old French Afropop / R&B artist of Cameroonian roots. As one of his most famous lyrics declares, “They will tell you that Tayc only talks about love,” not that it is far from the truth; however, there is more to the harmonizing singer than meets the eye. Take ‘Carry Me’ for example, and you will find that Tayc is a multilingual genius. Singles such as ‘Love Me’ and ‘Forévà’ show how truly versatile he is, ranging from topics about love, heartbreak, to loss and grief.

Dadju

It would be impossible to mention Tayc without his birthday twin–the prince of France, French-Congolese singer Dadju. They are truly two sides of the same coin, although Gims’ half-brother makes truth to his married-family man status and appears less Playboy-ish than his ‘Héritage’ collaborator. Let’s revisit one of his breakout hits, ‘Jaloux’, for example, it’s the epiphany of the good guy done wrong. Dadju doesn’t challenge himself in music; he sticks to what he knows.
And perhaps that could best explain his longevity in the game, but also, how he manages to never be dethroned.

Damso

There are a lot of words that could best describe Belgian-Congolese rapper-singer Damso, one of which is eccentric. Another would be sombre, melancholic, unafraid to speak of his deep flaws. And perhaps that is why black men from the French diaspora relate to him most; Damso exposes the ugly in man and turns it into something beautiful. Darkness never leaves him, even in his song ‘Limbisa ngai’, where he makes use of his rap lyricism to glide on an Afro-rhythmic instrumental. On the other hand, ‘Pa Pa Paw’ is a testimony of a true versatile talent, showing us his singing side, which almost acts like the other half of his personality. 

Tiakola 

Our first French cover star and French-Congolese mélo rapper, Tiakola is a name that keeps echoing to the masses as time flies. If our exclusive interview with the boy did not persuade you to add him to your rotation, we don’t know what else would. Tiakola naturally has all the elements of a star, and his charisma, coupled with his talent, makes him a natural component of the music world. Songs such as ‘Meuda’ and ‘BADMAN GANGSTA’ are an immediate click whenever they cross our playlist.

Stromae

You didn’t really think we would make up a list without the Belgian artist Stromae, did you? Despite what the recent surge of AI-generated versions of ‘Papaoutai’ may make you think, the singer-producer has one of the most solid music catalogues in the Francophone sphere of all time. Previously introduced to us as the party anthem ‘Alors en Danse’ in a distant past, Maestro is an artist of layers both lyrically and sonically. It would be very hard to pin him to a genre; Stromae pretty much does what he pleases. 

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Everything You Need to Know About the New French Music Sub-Genre Mélomane
Breaking Boundaries: Dadju and Tayc's Héritage Album: Bridging Francophone and Anglophone Markets with Diverse Genres

Tucked away in Pasadena is a retreat that feels completely disconnected from the city’s high-speed energy. Behind the gates of a massive modern estate, the Hollywood noise trades off for the stillness of a lush, green hideaway. We took full advantage of the beautiful garden location; the hidden trees and secluded corners felt like a genuine oasis. The architecture is sharp, the vibe is serene, and the atmosphere feels effortlessly tropical. This isn't just a high-end backdrop; it’s a reflection of the man himself. During the shoot, Armanii was locked in, showing a level of creative involvement that most artists find years into their careers. He moved with a quiet yet humble confidence, clearly understanding his angles and exactly what he liked. At times, he even gently guided the photographer to the specific perspectives that looked the best, never losing that grounded spirit. He genuinely loved the moodiness of the space and the touches of elegance that defined the day.

The Kingston native has already moved past the "rising star" label, backed by a massive 107 million global streams and a debut album, THE IMPACT, that’s currently shaking up the Billboard charts. He moves with a calculated calm, like someone who knows that when you’re really holding the power, you don’t have to shout to be heard.

The Evolution of the Sound

For anyone who only knows him for the high-energy grit of his early singles like "HAAD (Fiesta)" or "POUNDS," THE IMPACT is a total pivot. It’s a 15-track journey released via UnitedMasters that chooses soul over hype, mixing the heavy heartbeat of Reggae with the smooth, late-night textures of R&B. This is music as an experience something that sticks with you long after the track ends. The moodiness of the album mirrors the sleek, minimal aesthetic of our Pasadena set; there’s a balance here that keeps everything grounded.

As the legend Bob Marley once said:
"Music is the instrument of unity... The people must come together, and music is the way."
Armanii’s new sound lives in that space of unity. He’s bridging the gap between the raw, street-level stories of Kingston and the polished, global appeal of modern soul. Talking about this shift, he was real about where his head is at:

"I feel like R&B inspires my music 75% because I listen to the Summer Walkers, the Giveons, the Drakes, the SZAs... that sound gravitates towards me more. You can hear it whether it's a sample or a beat it just has that R&B feel to it."

This melodic evolution shows a level of vulnerability that’s rare. While his look leans into the high-fashion luxury of Balenciaga, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton, his core is still anchored in the honest stories of his life.

A Superpower Rooted in Reality

Armanii’s mission is all about a universal connection. He doesn't see his Jamaican heritage as just a style; it’s his core, the thing that lets him slide into any genre and still sound authentic.

"Using my roots, and then also getting a beat from somewhere like New York and having Jamaican lyrics on it is perfect... staying true to just who I am as a Jamaican is my superpower."

Even with the global wins like being named Billboard’s Rookie of the Month this February and taking home the Dancehall Impact Award at the 2025 Caribbean Music Awards Armanii stays incredibly tapped in. He speaks on the "default Jamaican story" the path from the ghetto to the global stage with a clarity that hits different. That reality is the anchor that makes his music feel like a real conversation instead of just a performance. He’s been there, he’s seen it, and he’s representing a community that sees their own potential in his wins.

Vision and Community

The title of his album, THE IMPACT, wasn't an accident. He wanted a word that held weight without needing extra hype. His vision goes way beyond the numbers; it’s about building a bridge for the next generation of Kingston artists, proving you can go global without losing your soul.

"Choosing the tracks was the hardest part... I made sure I picked something where people would go, 'Okay, wow. Okay, Armanii,' instead of just what they’re used to hearing from me. I wanted to show that versatility."

The Final Word

Watching the light fade over the trees in Pasadena, it's easy to see that Armanii isn't just playing the game he’s genuinely changing how it’s done. By mixing that raw Kingston grit with a smoother, R&B-heavy vibe, he’s created a space for everyone who wants music that actually means something. He is that essential link between the legends we grew up on and the high-fashion, high-speed future of the Caribbean sound.

With a four-city Canadian tour coming up in May 2026 and the rest of the world finally catching his drift, this moment feels less like he’s reached the top and more like he’s just getting started on shifting the culture. In an era where everything is a 15-second clip, Armanii is focused on the long game. THE IMPACT is more than a title; it’s the only way to describe the wake he’s leaving behind.
Keep an eye out the Armanii era has officially moved in.

Credits

Publication: Deeds Magazine @deedsmagazine
Talent: Armanii @armaniimusiq
Photographer/Producer: Pablo Flores Perez @shootervisualz
Lighting Director: Rudolf Bekker @rudolfbekker
1st Photo Assist: Denver Nelson @denvernelson_
Prod. Assistant: Carrington Smith @directorcarrington
Prod. Designer: Steve Ashby @steveflaneurs
Creative Director: Miguel Garcia @miguelhbz
Art Director: Victor Holt @vicknows_
Cover Design: Shalem Alone @Shalemalone
Fashion Director: Gloria Johnson @Styledbyglo_2
Stylist: Amiah Joy @amiah.joy
Styling Assistant: Micheal Washington @9.to.5
Interviewer: Debra Orols @debraorols
Marketing: Nadyahtaj @Nadyahtaj
Distribution: @unitedmasters
Location Rep: Andy Ta

Ayra Starr recently dropped a new song, ‘Where Do We Go?’, that speaks to the confusion that comes with an undefined love. Unlike her usual Afropop sound, the track is submerged with electronic undertones, a new sonic direction that hints at a new era for the pop star. Some welcomed ‘Where Do We Go?’ with anticipation for how this sonic direction would unfold in her upcoming projects; a majority were consumed with something else entirely: her outfit. The Grammy nominee dons a mini black sequined dress paired with purple tights in the visualizer and the song cover art. This style has since angered many fans, who are now not so quietly questioning the direction of her career.

This reaction has long been brewing. Ayra’s fanbase began criticizing her style since the yellow and black cape and peplum three-piece from Luar she wore for a performance in Ghana. Most reactions that followed that look were a mix of displeasure or concern, and sometimes both. As with most fandoms, Ayra’s fanbase turned their criticisms towards the person behind the change, her new stylist, Elly Karamoh.

Karamoh, who only began working with Ayra a few months ago, has so far leaned into a more opulent, high-glam direction with playful twists. Fur, structured pieces, and heavier styling choices take center stage with occasional pulls from 2010s trends; think peplums and pumps. In many ways, his interpretation of Ayra’s image feels bolder in contrast to the look Ayra had been known for.

This change has not landed well for fans. Among hundreds of comments, the most echoed has been that Ayra looks older. For an artist whose style repertoire has been placed at the center of Gen Z fashion, and curated a following from this base, fur coats and peplums, to some fans, felt prematurely aged and out of place for her image as an African pop star. 

This displeasure feels familiar. It’s the same reaction that reverberates when teen stars transition into adulthood and move away from the image that made them popular. Culturally, as Ayra is one of the newest teen-to-adult star transitions Nigeria has witnessed, the reaction may be subconscious; still, it mirrors the same patterns of scrutiny young female stars elsewhere have long faced.

Fans nonetheless express their thoughts as concern for her pop star status. Some worry she will lose her pop star appeal with this new style change, while others interpret the new look as a lack of direction.

But with the changes in Ayra’s personal life, her style choices like wearing fur feels natural. The artist recently moved to New York, and in a Substack post from December, she briefly reflected on the city’s climate and how it has influenced her mood. While she didn’t directly link this to her style, she included a photo of herself in fur. In the “Where Do We Go?” visualizer, she is also framed against skyscrapers, a setting that mirrors her current surroundings and also subtly positions her within a more American landscape.

It's unclear whether this style is simply personal or signalling a new era. One thing is certain: ‘Where Do We Go’ is sonically different, and speculations that she’s trying her hand at American pop have followed. When viewed through this lens, her recent looks make sense.

Still, fans' attachment to Ayra’s earlier image remains strong. Early visual framing of her identity through style, cover art, and music videos has set a precedent for how they read her as an artist. This type of fan attachment is often a result of great branding and building eras. Thanks to the modern pop economy, rollouts are elaborate and tease hidden meanings. Now audiences have been conditioned to read styling, hair, and overall presentation as a signal of what the music might sound or feel like. So when the visual language changes, it can create uncertainty around the music itself for some.

Within that context, the reaction to Ayra Starr’s evolving style begins to make more sense. To understand why this shift feels so jarring to fans, it helps to look at how Ayra Starr’s image was first constructed and how closely it became tied to her sound.

Ayra Starr was introduced to audiences in 2021 through her self-title EP, which wasn’t much of an era in the grand pop sense as it was an introduction phase and a testing ground. The sound was fun and fierce, and that, in conjunction with colorful graphic liner, playful makeup, and cropped shirts, positioned Ayra as the girl next door. Even without a defined era, this first introduction set her up as a girl’s pop star, and that image continued.

Much of that image was later sharpened under the direction of stylist Pat Ada Eze, whose approach to fashion was rooted in reflecting the core audience. “To truly be a star and inspire that level of adoration, you need to excite people, and one of the best ways to do that is through fashion,” she explained in an interview.

With 19 & Dangerous, the girl-next-door image was “baddified”: soft and youthful, but sharper and more self-assured. Through elements like graphic liners, cropped silhouettes, and Y2K references, Ayra sat at the intersection of trendy and alternative, becoming both reflective of and influential within her audience. Mini skirts, cropped shirts, and high boots became the Ayra look, a familiar image that audiences grew attached to. Through color, textures, or overall styling, there was always a thread of softness and youthfulness tying it all together as she experimented across different releases.

But outside of the machinery of branding and rollout strategies, Ayra’s style has never been a fixed image entirely dictated by her sound. She has said in interviews that she dresses for fun, moving between looks and refusing to be boxed into one version of herself. 

So while her previous style has become iconic, it was also distinctly tied to Nigerian youth culture, rooted in a Gen Z-coded style that shaped how audiences first understood her. There is, however, another layer to this reaction—one that doesn’t apply equally across pop

The misogyny of it all

When male artists experiment with their image, the conversation rarely extends to their music in the same way. Criticisms of male artists’ styles are rarely tied to how their music is received.

For example, Rema’s backpack, high tops, and wife-beater combo in the 'FUN' video was critiqued for looking Black-American, with some arguing saying it didn’t fit with his act as an Afrobeats artist. Despite the backlash, the criticism of his clothes barely crossed into how people perceived the music itself or whether they would listen to it.

Asake, in the last few months, has appeared with a different look almost every market day, to the point where constant transformation has become part of his identity. The office shirts and pixie cut hair, among many other looks, have at best earned him praise for his nonconformity and at worst been ridiculed, but not once was his artistry questioned. Meanwhile, each outfit change from Ayra Starr feels, to some fans, like a test of her loyalty to the image they first embraced.

Women in pop are judged more harshly for stylistic changes because their image is often treated as their primary currency, while male artists are still allowed to center their music and persona first. In other words, male artists can have style without being defined by it, while female artists are often defined by their style, whether they want to be or not. You can see this in the early conversations around Tems. 

When Tems first arrived on the scene, she played into the Billie Eilish handbook of purposefully wearing oversized shirts and baggy bottoms to avoid being objectified and taking attention from her voice. Still, her body would remain a point of discussion almost as much as her voice. And when she eventually moved away from baggy clothes to the soul singer look, that too became another talking point.
Even when they aren’t seeking attention for their image, female artists often find that their appearance becomes inseparable from the way their music is interpreted.

As Ayra steps into what may be a new era, the question becomes less about whether the image works and more about how much weight fans allow it to carry. In this age where branding is central to a pop star's image, can we judge the merit of their sound outside of the fashion style they present with it? ‘Where Do We Go’ is a chance to engage with Ayra’s art as she chooses to present it, understanding that her image functions as supplementary context or a continuation of the narratives within her music rather than the full picture itself. 

@radgalrabi

There’s a particular kind of magic that happens when Afrobeats enter a room. 

Picture a club somewhere in East London, 2019. The DJ has been playing the usual — UK drill, some R&B, and the occasional throwback. Then, without announcement, the opening notes of Burna Boy's “Ye” drop into the air. And something shifts. The crowd — Nigerian, British, second-generation everything — starts to move differently. There's a recognition that passes through the room like electricity. By the time Wizkid's “Soco” follows, it’s no longer a matter of who knows the words. Everyone moves.

That feeling of universal arrival is what Afrobeats achieved. It won hearts all over the globe musically, culturally, diplomatically and even commercially. It walked into rooms that had never made space for African sound and made itself at home. Afrobeats won, convincingly, and on its own terms, too. 
But the thing about a sound that conquers the world is that it tends to conquer the story too. 

The Coronation 

Afrobeats didn’t just break through — it reached a magnificent level of global success that is impossible to ignore. 
In 2021, Wizkid's “Essence” — a song recorded in Lagos, sung partly in Yoruba, and built on a distinctly West African beat- became a global phenomenon. It peaked at number nine on the Billboard Hot 100. It went platinum in multiple countries and made Tems a household name overnight. A year later, Burna Boy became the first African artist to headline Madison Square Garden — and sold it out. In 2023, Afrobeats became an official Grammy category. The continent not only arrived, but it also restructured the room and expanded the conversation.‍

Afrobeats won for several interconnected reasons. The African diaspora — millions of Nigerians, Ghanaians, and other Africans living across the UK, US, and Europe — created a ready-made global audience that already knew the music and carried it into new spaces. The sound itself is architecturally brilliant for export: rhythmic, danceable, and melodically accessible across language barriers. 

It doesn’t demand cultural fluency to enjoy; it invites people in through the body first. TikTok's algorithm also rewards sounds that make people move, and combining this with the influence of major label partnerships – that gave artists like Davido and Wizkid global distribution — Afrobeats success was almost inevitable. 

This is Afrobeats' genius. It is the most exportable version of African music ever produced. It is clean, danceable, streaming-ready, and culturally resonant without being culturally exclusive.
The problem is not the victory, but what the victory has come to mean. 

Somewhere between Burna Boy’s Grammy speech and Tems performing at the Super Bowl halftime show, "African music" quietly became a synonym for “Afrobeats.” It was not in every room and with every listener — but it was enough. Enough that when a Western journalist writes about African music, they mean Afrobeats. Enough that when a global playlist is labelled "African," it is overwhelmingly Afrobeats. Enough that artists making music on the same continent, in the same cities, sometimes in the same studios — but not in that particular sound — find themselves outside the frame of what counts as African music.

A continent of 54 countries, over 2,000 languages, and more distinct ethnic groups than most of the world combined, has been handed a single genre as its cultural passport. The result of this is that a lot of other very African sounds get left at the border for not being Afrobeats. 

The Sounds & Culture Left Behind

Alté:

Alté (pronounced ul-tey, reclaimed by Nigerian youth culture to mean something "alternative" or "other") emerged from Lagos in the mid-2010s as a direct response to the dominance of mainstream Afrobeats. This is not simply a music genre; it is an attitude. It is a culture built on deliberately rejecting conventional expectations. Where Afrobeats is polished and globally legible, Alté is deliberately messy, genre-fluid, and stubbornly local. It pulls from jazz, soul, psychedelia, funk, and traditional Yoruba sound. It drapes itself in thrift-store fashion, speaks in code-switched Pidgin and English, and refuses the kind of streamlined production that makes a song easy to market internationally.

Artists like Cruel Santino, Odunsi The Engine, and Lady Donli built this world almost entirely outside the mainstream industry's attention. Cruel Santino's 2019 project Mandy & The Jungle is perhaps the defining Alté document: a swirling, maximalist, deeply personal record that sounded like nothing else coming out of Lagos at the time. Not only did it receive critical acclaim, but it also did not chart globally. But that gap — between artistic achievement and commercial visibility — is precisely what Alté is.

What makes Alté significant is not just the sound. It is what the sound represents. In a country where success is often defined by how much money you make and how mainstream your taste is, Alté carves out a different definition of cool. ‘Cool’ here is rooted in self-expression, fluidity, and a rejection of the idea that African music must translate easily to be valid. The Alté community listens differently, dresses differently, thinks differently, and occupies public space differently. It is a subculture in the fullest sense — and it has been almost entirely invisible to the global gaze that has been fixed so intently on Afrobeats.

Amapiano

Amapiano is Afrobeats' closest rival for global attention, and its story reveals a different kind of erasure.
Born in the townships of South Africa — particularly in Pretoria and Johannesburg — sometime around 2012, Amapiano is built around a distinctive log drum pattern, soulful piano melodies, and a tempo that is slower and more hypnotic than Afrobeats. It is the sound of South African township life, of Sunday afternoons and late nights, of a specific joy that is inseparable from a specific geography and a specific history.

By 2022, it had gone global. Amapiano-influenced tracks were appearing on UK charts. International DJs were also incorporating its elements. The log drum — the calling card of underground South African parties — was showing up in pop productions worldwide. In 2023, Shallipopi's “Cast” brought Amapiano into Nigerian street culture, and the fusion was infectious.

But the world largely received the rhythm. It vibed with the log drum and the danceable surface. What it did not receive — or did not bother to look for — was the context. It did not receive the South African township culture that birthed Amapiano. The language, the references, and the specific social world the music was made to soundtrack. The artists who built the sound from the ground up — DJ Maphorisa, Kabza De Small, Focalistic — have found some international attention, but the genre is increasingly being reproduced by people with no relationship to its origins. It has been stripped of its meaning and retained for its marketability.

Street-Hop and Indigenous Sound 

Portable's “Zazoo Zehh” — a chaotic, profane, brilliantly unhinged record — took over Lagos in 2022 in a way that made very little sense to anyone who wasn't living inside that particular moment. The slang was hyper-local, the production was deliberately rough, and the references were invisible to anyone outside a specific Lagos street context. It was, by every measure of the global filter, unexportable. And it was a phenomenon.

This is the same tradition that runs through Fela Kuti's political Afrobeat and Olamide's early YBNL run, which built an empire on the dignity of the Lagos street voice. It runs through Seun Kuti, who still carries his father's fire, and through a generation of artists making music in indigenous languages — Yoruba, Igbo, Hausa, Twi, Zulu — for audiences who don't need a translation because they are the intended listeners.

This music is the most honest document of African everyday life that exists. It does not flatten itself for palatability or negotiate with the global filter. It asks for nothing except that the listener belongs to the world it was made for. Because of this, the world largely doesn't hear it.

African Indie

Before "Free Mind" made Tems a global name, she was making music for a smaller, more intimate audience. Soft music, searching, and deeply personal in a way that her later work, brilliant as it is, sometimes traded for scale.

That earlier mode — introspective, quiet, and unbothered by marketability — is what African indie represents. It is the Moonchild Sanellys, the Msakis, and the Asa's of the continent. Artists who make music that prioritises feeling over function, storytelling over danceability, and the interior world over the communal floor.

African indie rarely travels. Many times, it is dismissed for not "sounding African enough," — as if Africa is only allowed one emotional register, one volume setting, or one relationship to music. As if the soft, the searching, and the interior are Western inventions that Africans should leave alone. This is the invisible gatekeeping that no one names but is enforced on a global scale. 

The Global Filter 

None of this happens by accident. There is a filter, and it decides what is palatable for global consumption and what remains local.
Streaming platforms are built on engagement metrics — plays, skips, saves, shares. Afrobeats, with its rhythmic accessibility and high replayability, performs excellently by these measures. Music that is more challenging, more contextual, or more reliant on cultural fluency tends to perform worse. This is not because it is inferior, but because the algorithm was not designed with it in mind. Spotify's African playlist curators have improved significantly, but the structural logic of the platform still rewards the most immediately accessible version of any sound.

Record labels also compound this. When Western labels began signing African artists in earnest — Universal's partnership with Davido, Sony's investment in Afrobeats infrastructure — they were investing in what they already understood would translate. The pipeline that was built moved Afrobeats artists onto global stages. Artists outside that sound found that the pipeline didn't quite reach them.

The diaspora, too, plays a complicated role. African communities abroad have been the greatest ambassadors for their home cultures — but they are also, inevitably, performing those cultures for non-African audiences. In that performance, simplification sometimes happens. The most legible version of home gets amplified. The more complex, the more local, and the more untranslatable parts get set aside for a later time that never arrives.

The filter is not intentionally malicious. It is structural, and is the accumulated result of thousands of small decisions — what to sign, what to playlist, what to promote, and what to stream. Each small decision seems individually reasonable, but are collectively devastating to cultural complexity.

‍The Cultural Cost - Music is never just Music 

When Afrobeats becomes the world's primary reference point for African identity, it carries with it an implied story about who Africans are, how they live, what they feel, what they celebrate, and what they mourn. That story is not false — but it is radically incomplete.

A continent of 1.4 billion people, spread across climates ranging from Saharan desert to equatorial rainforest to Mediterranean coast, speaking more languages than any other landmass on earth, producing art across every conceivable tradition — that continent, in the global imagination, increasingly fits inside a single Spotify playlist.

The psychological cost of this falls on African artists first. When the only viable model for global recognition runs through Afrobeats, artists who make different sounds face a choice: adapt toward the dominant sound and gain access to the global machine, or stay true to their artistic identity and accept relative invisibility. This is not a free choice. It is a subtle, structural and relentless pressure.

The cultural cost falls on audiences everywhere. A world that only knows one version of Africa is a world that makes the worst decisions about Africa — in policy, in investment, in solidarity, and in simple human understanding. Culture is the software that runs our empathy. When the software only has one African reference, the empathy that runs on it is limited accordingly.
This is bigger than music. It is a question about who gets to be complex.

The Shift

But recently, there’s been progress. Though slow and uneven, it is unmistakable. Cruel Santino's Mandy & The Jungle has found a second life in international critical circles. Amapiano has forced global audiences to reckon with the fact that Africa's musical landscape has more than one address. Streaming platforms are beginning to develop more granular African playlists that distinguish between regions, sounds, and traditions. Publications like Pitchfork and The Guardian have begun covering African artists who don't fit the Afrobeats mould with more seriousness and more nuance than they did five years ago.

More importantly, a generation of young African listeners is growing up with a more sophisticated relationship to their own music. They know the difference between Alte and Afrobeats. They know Amapiano's origins. They can tell you who Msaki is and why she matters without needing a Western co-sign to validate the claim. The knowledge is being kept alive, even if the global spotlight hasn't caught up.

But the shift is fragile. Every time a Western artist samples Afrobeats and wins a Grammy, the global centre of gravity moves slightly further toward the one sound. Every time an African artist softens their edges to fit the global playlist, a little more complexity leaves the building. 
The music industry — and the audiences that sustain it — must learn to hold more than one story at a time because Africa does not sound like one thing.

Africa sounds like Cruel Santino building a psychedelic mythology in Lagos. It sounds like Amapiano's log drum echoing through a Soweto living room on a Sunday afternoon. It sounds like Portable's unhinged genius making something out of nothing on a street corner. It sounds like Msaki singing something so quiet and so true that you have to lean in to hear it. It sounds like 2,000 languages finding 2,000 different ways to say: I was here. I felt this. This is what it meant to be alive in this place, at this time.

Afrobeats is Africa's greatest introduction. But an introduction is not the full conversation. And the world — if it is serious about actually knowing this continent, and not just dancing to it — has to be willing to stay in the room long enough to hear the rest of what it has to say.
The continent is not a playlist; it is an archive. Africa is more than Afrobeats. 

Social media: Substack

‍

A Blend Between Soukous and Afrobeats World Was Born

When Nigerian Afropop singer Ayra Starr first released ‘Sability’ in 2023, it received mixed reviews. The public seemingly adored the song, with it charting no. 1 in Nigeria’s TurnTable Top 100 and no. 2 in the UK Afrobeats Singles; however, the press saw things otherwise. Ramblings of ‘a miscalculated production choice’, and a flat chorus filled social media blogs. And what could have been a moment of recognizing an African cross-genre blend between the Congolese power hold of Soukous and the newer Nigerian dominant genre of Afrobeats ended up falling short. Little did they know that Ayra Starr’s sample by legend Awilo Longomba was once renowned for its influence on the continent & beyond, respected for pushing boundaries and forever changed the soundscape of African music.

Soukous is a Congolese dancing genre that was first popularized in the 60s, deriving from Rumba. The main aspect that differentiates both sounds is that Soukous has a fast-rhythmic pace, accompanied by guitar improvisations and is often danced to ndombolo, whilst Rumba is a slow ballad and usually enchants lyrical themes of love. Historically, both genres have always gone hand in hand, where Congolese legendary artists such as Koffi Olomide, Fally Ipupa, or the late Papa Wemba and Franco Luambo would dabble back and forth between them, depending on the trajectory of the song they wanted to produce.

When Awilo Longomba released his second album, ‘Coupé Bibamba’ in 1998, it really shook things up. You see, Awilo was born into this, hailing from a musical father, Vicky Longomba, the lead vocalist and founder of the Rumba pioneering band TPOK Jazz. Some would say that music was in his blood; however, it is him revolutionizing Soukous with Electronic elements that really set him apart. The term techno-Soukous was then coined, bringing worlds together that had never been seen in the same category, let alone in the same room. The lead single that shares the title and 2023 sample made waves, encouraging the continent to dance along. The whole project was so popular that it even made noise in Europe & America through the diaspora.

It is 2023, and Thisizlondon, or London in short, is in the studio with Ayra Starr (At least that’s how we imagine it). We presume London showcased the original song to the team, and Ayra fell in love with it first listen, which prompted its immediate release. All jokes aside, ‘Sability’ was surely a brand risk, just for the mere fact of its unusual melodies, eclectic rhythms and still very evident Soukous influences. As Afrofusion is often known for wanting to try new blends, which were received pretty well by fans. That is, until critics shared their questionable point of view, and the try-out came to an end.

What ‘Sability’ showcased at the time is the lack of cultural context within foreign entities, but also in its continental limitations. This is because the lyrics that were met with perplexity are the same elements that make a Soukous song. Lyrics are simplified, often just shouting out names, or in this case, “Awilo” at the refrain, which is the name of the artist himself. This is a key attribute incorporated into Soukous music as its purpose is to make you dance, and not dwell on the meaning behind words. Surely, one could argue that Ayra’s remake wasn’t as convincing as Awilo, and a feature would have made the hook justice. However, when Burna Boy and Wizkid borrow famous Fela Kuti’s lyrics and melodies to fuse them in their sound without its initial message, why doesn’t anybody bat an eye and just dance along?

Let’s take Rema’s 2025 single ‘Kelebu’, for example, which also fell into the same fate. A song mainly heavily influenced by Ivorian Coupé-Décalé, yet failed to resonate with commentators. It’s not that the song lacked substance or didn’t serve its purpose, which was to make us dance; it is that the lack of awareness of the historical agenda behind regional sounds makes Nigerian artists’ attempt to fuse them with Afrobeats ultimately flop.

Wearing a beige suit and red tie, Asake waltzed onto the stage, the sound of his hit song ‘Why Love’ emanating from the 33-person orchestra flanking him. That historic night at Brooklyn’s King Theatre last year, Asake’s Red Bull Symphonic show would find him performing orchestral renditions of some of his biggest hits and trotting out stars like Wizkid, Tiakola, Central Cee, Gunna & Fridayy. By the middle of the show, however, the 31-year-old Afrobeats hegemon would take a detour from this thumping procession of hit songs, performing a mellow, introspective unreleased record. On Friday, the 20th of March, after five months of teasing the record during his many performances around the world, Asake finally released the single. Its title? ‘Worship.’

What’s especially remarkable about ‘Worship’ is how aptly it telegraphs Asake’s ascendancy. After years of relentless grind, of trudging ahead without the slightest hint of what the future held, of having to grapple with a fusillade of setbacks, he finds himself at the zenith of African music, having held the entire continent, and beyond, spellbound with three undeniable albums. “Alhamdulillah, praise be to God no matter your condition,” he offers in the song’s overture, as the production—replete with poignant keys and flamboyant horns—evokes the feeling of a church worship session.

In 2020, Asake, who had by then spent years chasing stardom, had his fresh brush with fame. ‘Mr Money’, a propulsive single he released that year, galvanised audiences in Nigeria, many of whom had been unnerved by the tightening lockdown restrictions and the attendant vagaries of the pandemic. TikTok and Instagram teemed with jaunty choreography by fans enthralled by its earworm melodies and skittering drums. But soon after, the song’s momentum would taper off precipitously, and he’d struggle without success for years to score another hit song. 

“Life humbled me,” he says of the incident in a recent interview with Nigerian YouTuber Korty EO. “Imagine God gives you a taste of something, and then takes it away. That’s what happened in 2020.” Two years later, however, the tide would turn when he signed to YBNL, a label owned by legendary Nigerian musician Olamide. Following his signing, Asake would display an unprecedented level of dominance in the industry, earning him sobriquets like "landlord," a cheeky allusion to his dominance on charts worldwide. 

Asake’s interview with Korty EO was released days before ‘Worship’ dropped and has played the crucial role of imbuing the song with a certain diaristic heft. The interview, conducted over five days, finds Asake steeped in a level of wealth and stardom that feels redolent of a different era. But even more poignantly, we see him swaddled with love, warmth, and adoration from his family and close circle. Watching the interview and then circling back to the song, in which he offers lyrics such as “You have to trust yourself and wait for results,” will almost certainly leave you feeling like you can take on the world, bet on yourself, and perhaps come out successful. 

The past few days have seen an outpouring of love towards the Mr Money crooner, often expressed in the form of emotion-sodden screeds posted on X. And the appetite for his hopefully imminent album M$NEY has never been higher. Last year, he relentlessly teased the project, taking us on a labyrinthine journey flush with countless evolutions of his personal style and a smorgasbord of snippets. Nonetheless, the project never materialized. What we got instead was ‘Real,’ a four-track collaborative project with Wizkid. But even that felt like a peace offering of sorts, something to hold on to before the main banquet arrives. Fans across Africa and the diaspora are waiting with bated breath. But with ‘Worship’ finally out, it appears that we’ve officially ventured into Asake’s M$NEY era.

In an era where musical "lanes" feel more like restrictive cages, DC The Don is busy tearing down the fencing. For the Milwaukee-born artist, moving from SoundCloud to the world stage wasn't just luck, it’s what happens when you refuse to dilute who you are. DC represents a rare breed of artist who successfully moved from the digital trenches to global market prominence without losing the "inner circle" intimacy that turned his fanbase into a literal movement.
His sound is a high-energy blend of fast, crashing rhythms and melancholy, synth-driven melodies. 
During our recent sit-down, Deeds Magazine explored his growth in 2026, which he describes as "astronomical". His latest EP, "THE RUMORS ARE TRUE", is a polished declaration of this evolution. It lives in that waiting room between two lives, the "in-between" where rising fame crashes into real life. Our conversation focuses on his journey, his dual personas, and why he’ll never fold.

Gloria for Deeds Magazine: You've described your 2024 album REBIRTH as your "official debut," but you've been a force in the scene since the SoundCloud era. Looking at the trajectory from Milwaukee to now, how would you describe the growth and refinement of your creative process in 2026?
DC: Astronomical.

Your music has famously orbited around two characters: Donny (representing rage and ego) and Rag3 Kidd (representing pain and depression). On your new EP, "THE RUMORS ARE TRUE", do these two still live in conflict, or have you found a way to fuse them into a singular, more powerful identity?
I found a resolution with them, but it's not answered until the next album. My next project, Heaven Offline, is a sequel to MOW3 (My Own Worst Enemy).

You've successfully blended everything from "breakbeat chaos" to "synth-pop sadness" into your work. For the fans who have been following your journey, what are some of the smaller details or influences in your "DC Sound" that you think people might still overlook?
There's a lot of small details in all of the shit that I do. But people don't know how involved I am in the entire process, how much attention I pay to the details. The people that do hear it, hear it.

You released an EP titled 2012 and frequently reference that era's culture. What is it about that specific point in time that remains a primary source of inspiration for you today?
2012 was a big year for me because that's when I fell in love with music. You can't take shit too seriously when it comes to making music these days.

"THE RUMORS ARE TRUE" is your first project under a major label partnership with Republic Records. As an artist who has always operated as a "chameleon" in full control of his palette, how has this new partnership empowered you to scale your original vision? 
It didn't really change anything. I didn't get validation from a record label. It's nice to feel celebrated and supported.

‍That track exploded with over 90 million streams as an independent release. What was the most surreal moment of seeing a song you fought so hard for become a global anthem? 
Beating out Taylor Swift, because I'm a Swiftie, on the trending music chart on Apple Music.

‍From short films to your "TRAT Burner" accounts, you've built a very specific aesthetic world. How does visual storytelling help you communicate the emotions of the music? 
I feel like the visuals come first to me you see something and it inspires a sound. That's always the first thing to me, the aesthetic.

‍You're hitting Chicago, Brooklyn, Atlanta, and LA this month. For those getting ready for a DC The Don show, what is the one thing they need to be prepared for? 
I think they should feel unprepared. I want them to experience this show as if it's their first time watching me live.

‍Your 2026 timeline mentions the launch of a "Burner" account. Why is it important for you to maintain that raw, direct line to your core fans? 
Sharing music and my life with my fans is what started this. Seeing how my music impacts other people's lives is the biggest part of music for me.

‍Beyond the upcom2012 was a big year for me because that's when I fell in love with music. You can't take shit too seriously when it comes to making music these days. album in July, what does the "World of DC" look like in the near future? 
I'm tryna get a film at the Sundance Film Festival. I'm tryna take all of my dreams as a kid and make it a reality.

Direct Connection: Your 2026 timeline mentions the launch of a "Burner" account. Why is it important for you to maintain that raw, direct line to your core fans even as your profile continues to reach new heights?
Sharing music, my life etc with my fans is what started this. It’s not ‘GET NAKED’ or signing a deal with Republic (Records). The first thing that really gave me that extra battery pack was seeing how my music impacts other people’s lives. Not even on some O.D. serious shit, but the fact I’m making people's lives better and shit like that, that’s fire to me. That's the biggest part about music for me. So if I switched that up, I would not be DC anymore

Beyond the upcoming Heaven Offline album in July, what does the "World of DC" look like in the near future? Are there other creative mediums like film or fashion that you are looking to conquer next?
I’m tryna get a film at the Sundance (Film) Festival. I got a short film coming out for ‘Heaven Offline.’ I’m tryna take all of my dreams as a kid and make it a reality. I feel like a lot of people get to a certain point where they make so much money, they forget the things they would say when they were a kid. I never lost that. Everything I dreamed of doing as a kid, I’m gonna do, and it will be fire. ‍

What is one part of your daily life that would probably surprise even your most dedicated supporters? 
Like probably 95% of the time, I be trolling and shit.

When people look back at this specific era ten years from now, what is the lasting mark you want to have left behind? 
I care more about how I'm defined in people's personal journeys. It's about whose life did you positively impact.

‍How do you hope your journey inspires others to embrace their own complexity? 
By watching all of my mistakes and learning that nobody has it figured out. You can be whatever the fuck you want to be.

‍When you finally step back from all the noise, what's the one thing you hope people understand about your heart?
‍I never folded, and I never will. I'm never gonna change.

A Note on the "In-Between"

DC The Don’s story isn't just about streams or major label deals; it's a living blueprint for anyone who feels like they don't quite fit the mold. He is entirely himself, unapologetically authentic even in his flaws. That authenticity is exactly what will keep him around for years to come. As DC says, you can be whatever you want to be. Don't fold.

Photo credit: Dre Casseus

New Project ‘JOŸA’ is Set to Drop on May 15th

When Julien Franck Bouadjie Kamgang, better known to the world as Tayc, first announced the coming of his second album ‘JOŸA’ at the Red Bull Symphony, a glimmer of hope filled the Parisian cold air. What most music critics would have described as the peak of Tayc’s career, the French-Cameroon Afropop singer suddenly quit music mid-performance after he had endured the dolorous passing of his late brother a year prior.

"This is Tayc's last summer. The road will end in 2025" was Julien’s last words on stage, and we swallowed every second of his final appearance with great chagrin, while convinced we would never hear from our favourite artist again. For months, Julien stayed off eye-sight, fueling the internet's wildest exchanges of mainly confusion and also empathy, before revealing to his supporters in December that it was only the beginning of a new chapter. And all of the stars in the skies seemed to align and point towards his newly-released single, ‘Super-Héros.’

‘Super-Héros’ feels like Tayc’s love letter to Cameroon. Accompanied by fragmented visuals of the ‘Forévà’ artist’s personal journey in the motherland, the sound truly lives up to its name; a new chapter of self-discovery and reconnecting with one’s African roots. Although Julien has always been known for singing about love to multiple significant others in different phases of a relationship’s cycle, some may accuse him of having been superficial in the past. However, the message behind this song feels deeply intentional, in which Tayc can be addressing an entire generation, his country, or maybe a blend of both, drenched in the history of a bloody battlefield and the reason his mother left her homeland for the Occident.

In the core of reflection, Tayc harmonizes in the most vulnerable state: “Joya, tell me where to go / Tell me where to go”, and we’re brought back to ‘TESTIMONY,’ a 2024 EP dedicated to Julien’s late brother. It goes without saying that, even by the first listen, we can sense that his pain still derives from this tragic passing and draw parallels to the familiar tone and lyricism Julien displayed in his previous project. “I heard all of the screams / and I felt the pain of your life” sings Tayc in the pre-chorus without sugarcoating. Is Julien now attempting to stretch a hand to his long-lost heritage through ‘Super-Héros’? It certainly is the case.

The Tayc you’ve seen before is not the Tayc you’re seeing now. God might have taken what’s most dearest to him, but he also gave him new life, as Julien is now a father of two children. Those are all new elements of his life, years apart from the person he was when Tayc first started his career in 2012. Some might say that he is experiencing an existential crisis, very common amongst men in their late 20s; however, it is far more complex than that. Take his mother shaving off his hair, for example, in ‘Il s’appelait Tayc’, what Julien is going through is an ego death. This is because he has no more use for his past self, who focused on all the sweetness that life offers, but now he is seeking something deeper, something more real, a spiritual awakening, per se, that encapsulates a man of substance rather than his materialistic gain.

Despite the simple build of the track, ‘Super-Héros’ is the perfect introduction to the new universe Tayc is trying to paint. One that is introspective, urges you to reflect and hypnotises you with its soft resonance. Words of Bamenda (One of Cameroon’s 250 native tongues) and instruments such as the glistening piano and saxophone outro-play only reinforce the galactic transition to a new beginning. Tayc’s different branding is a stage of agape, healing, and looking from within, but most importantly, we can expect ‘JOŸA’ to be a project of hope.

You may listen to Tayc’s new single here.

Ugandan Music Artist Trailblazing with Hit Song ‘Morocco’

When you think of the new cool kid in town, who is the first person to come to mind? Congo? South Africa? Kenya? Well, if your answer was anyone but Ugandan recording artist and music producer Joshua Baraka, then you clearly missed the plot here. His eclectic voice coupled with an Afrocentric emblem makes him a distinguishable African musician in his field. Since the AFCON season and the release of single ‘Morocco,’ Joshua has slowly slid in our capsule and you guessed it; his strategy is working.

Don’t be mistaken; Joshua is no newcomer in this music game. With parents from Kenyan and Rwandese roots, Joshua represents Uganda by birth. We can trace his first banger to ‘NANA,’ a song that perhaps many of you would have heard through its remix with Joeboy and King Promise. Ever since, Joshua’s reign has only risen throughout the years. One could say that a key factor to his growing success, aside from multiple versions to singles including dance videos and acoustics, is his collaboration catalogue. True to his multi-ethnic background, Joshua is able to vibe with anyone on a song. And when we state anybody, we truly mean anybody.

It is evident that Joshua is not only a student to the game; but he also wholeheartedly supports and participates in it. His records will resonate to crowds in Nigeria, South Africa, even as far as the Caribbean and the UK. In fact, you name it! And we are convinced that in due time, Joshua will come up with his own version to the region he occupies sonically. Not only does it make him one of the most versatile artists to come out of the continent lately, but also, a force to reckon with.

To be completely transparent, Joshua’s sound isn’t complex by any means and doesn’t tackle hard topics. Au contraire, his songs are digestible, it is feel good music and that makes him compatible with so many markets. It doesn’t take one to be of a specific corner in the world to relate to Joshua’s shared sentiments, and we imagine that this is why his sound has been able to travel as far as it does. That je ne sais quoi so many artists seek but fail to ignite is what Joshua portrays to the world naturally. And his footprint across the African continent has only grown what appears to be organically.

What is next for Joshua Baraka, you may ask? It is abundantly apparent to us that Joshua is one of these few artists that every once in a lifetime, can transcend their regional audience, broaden their reach and be equally loved and listened to by anyone who seeks refuge in good music. Not only does he have the potential to represent East Africa to the world stage, but he can unite us through his music. Of course, it is too early to predict the future of Joshua Baraka, but we can be sure that he is on the right path and we will continue to pay attention.

In 2019, you were probably doing what most people in Lagos did, phone in hand, scrolling through music without looking for anything in particular. And then something found you. A kid from Benin City, not yet twenty, releasing an EP that sounded like nothing heard before. You played 'Iron Man' and 'Dumebi' back to back, the way you do when a song feels like a secret you haven't told anyone yet. It felt new. It felt ours.

Somewhere between a gym playlist in Ohio and a Coachella headline slot, Rema's 'Calm Down' stopped being a song and became wallpaper. The oh oh oh oh and the lo lo lo lo -  that looping, hypnotic repetition was everywhere, soundtracking other people's lives, other people's moments, other people's TikToks. By the time the Selena Gomez remix pushed it to number three on the Billboard Hot 100, the track had been used in 1.8 million TikTok videos and powered by the full promotional machinery of Interscope Records. Everyone could sing along. Almost no one knew where it came from.

That's the moment worth sitting with. Not the triumph of it, though the triumph is real. But the question underneath it: when a song belongs to everyone, does it still belong to us?

The Scoreboard Looks Good
Let's be clear: the wins are real and they matter. African artists selling out the O2 Arena and Madison Square Garden. Tems became the first African female artist to surpass one billion Spotify streams for a single track. Burna Boy headlining his own world tour. Global Afrobeats listenership increased by 22% in 2025 alone, with streams of the genre recording a staggering 5,022 percent growth between 2021 and 2025. These are not small numbers. A generation of African artists fought for visibility that their predecessors were denied, and they are getting it.

But growth toward what, exactly? And on whose terms? The scoreboard tells us African music is winning. It doesn't tell us who's keeping score.

Who Controls the Dial
The infrastructure of global music is still largely Western. Streaming algorithms decide which sounds travel and at what speed. Spotify's own editorial playlists like African Heat and Afrobeats Hits became gateways to global exposure, while algorithmic playlists quietly reshaped how millions encounter African music. And here is the catch: the same algorithms that amplify African music also decide who gets seen and who gets sidelined.

Award shows tell a similar story. When the Grammy Academy introduced the Best African Music Performance category in 2024, it was framed as recognition. But critics were quick to notice the architecture of the gesture. In 2024, all five nominees were Nigerian, with no representation from other African countries, raising immediate questions about whether the category was truly for African music or simply for Afrobeats. As one op-ed in OkayAfrica put it, African artists are welcomed, but only if they perform Africanness in ways that align with Western expectations. There is a difference between being welcomed into a room and being given a separate table at the back of it.

Consider what made 'Calm Down' travel. The song is emotionally unspecific in the most deliberate way -  a heartbreak song, a daydream, a meditation on someone you haven't met yet. That emotional openness is part of its genius. Selena Gomez's remix undoubtedly gave the song new legs, and her familiarity to pop radio programmers and access to a global audience were ultimately her primary contributions -  something Rema himself acknowledged strategically. The oh oh oh oh requires no translation. Which is beautiful. And which is also the mechanism by which a song from Benin City becomes background music for a Western lifestyle brand.
The question isn't whether Rema made the song deliberately accessible -  of course he did, and that's craft. The question is what happens to the music that doesn't translate as neatly. What happens to the sounds that are too specific, too rooted, too local to be smoothed into a global format? African artists are often categorised under "world music" or "Afrobeats," even when their sound defies those labels. Do they get heard at all?

Two Kinds of Global
There is a version of 'global' that looks like Beyoncé sampling Afrobeats on her album - tribute paid by a Western superstar, the sound validated by proximity to her platform. And then there is the version that looks like Burna Boy headlining arenas on his own name, his own terms, his own audience following him there.
One is being referenced by the mainstream. The other is leading it. Both are called 'global.' They are not the same thing.
African artists continue to dominate charts, shape global soundscapes, and influence pop culture, yet their recognition at the Grammys remains largely confined to Africa-specific categories.

Globalisation and homogenisation travel together. The artists who have managed to resist this; who have insisted on their specificity even as they reached for wider audiences have had to fight for that right. It is not given freely by an industry that rewards what is easiest to package.

What the Fans at Home Feel
When an African artist blows up abroad, something shifts in how they are perceived at home. Sometimes it is pure pride - the chest-swelling kind, the "that's our person up there" feeling. And sometimes, quietly, it is something else. A suspicion. A grief, almost. Did they change the sound? Did they change themselves to get there?

There is something telling in the fact that 'Calm Down' -  a song that began its life on a Nigerian label, produced by a Nigerian producer, written from a very specific experience of Lagos nightlife needed a Selena Gomez remix to fully crack North America. Its ascent began the way so many modern hits do: with fan-made clips and dance challenges that spread faster than any single press campaign could. The Selena Gomez remix widened the aperture, but the groundwork was laid by users who treated the song as a social object first and a chart entry second. The fans at home were there before the algorithm. We are always there before the algorithm.

That proximity matters. Because the fans at home are not just spectators in this story. We are the original audience, the ones who heard it first, who knew what it meant before it had a global context to mean anything within. Our relationship to music changes when music becomes the world's. That change is not always a loss. But it is always worth naming.

Arrival, or Assimilation?
The numbers are undeniable. Afrobeats has generated more than 240 million global discoveries on Spotify in the past year alone. The stages are real. The streams are real. The wins are real.

But the conversation we need to be having is not just about whether African artists are winning. It's about what kind of winning we are working toward. Whether 'global' means African music reaching the world on its own terms or being processed by a Western industry machine until it is recognisable enough to be accepted. Until African platforms can produce their own verified insights, the continent's creative narrative will remain outsourced. There is a version of this story where African artists don't have to choose between authenticity and ambition. Where the infrastructure catches up to the talent. Where 'global' stops being a Western category that African music gets admitted into and starts being a stage that African music builds for itself.

We're not there yet. But we have artists making that argument with every song they release. And we have fans who remember what the music sounded like before the world got hold of it and who are watching, carefully, to see what it becomes.

IG: @ffeistyhuman

Let Me Introduce You to Davinhor and Her Alter Ego Karaba the Witch

Davinhor Makwala, better known to the world as Davinhor Pacman or Davinhor in short, is a French-Congolese MC; the hardest in her class, and at the highest of caliber. For long, she has completely been overshadowed by her male counterparts, often placed to the curb when speaking of female artists making moves in France right now due to her mingling with Rap music, a male-dominant genre where sexism persists. All took a sudden turn for the better; however, when Davinhor unveiled the breathtaking rollout to a much-anticipated project ‘Karaba Partie 2.’ This is part of a sequence to her 2024 sophomore album ‘Karaba Partie 1’ and continued narrative of the Karaba alter ego she has fostered.

Although there is much to uncover about the music itself and how both her album performing and cyphers are making rounds all over the internet. This article solely focuses on the message behind the music. You see, for much of her career, Davinhor has always used her field of expression as a means to combat patriarchy, uplift feminism and dismantle misogynistic norms in society. It goes without saying, her previous life in Kinshasa, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where her family faced persecution during the war for her father’s political opposition, can be vastly credited to her spirit and unpapologetic approach towards life.

Taken from the 1998 French children movie ‘Kiriku and the Sorcioise’ directed by Michel Ocelot, Davinhor is able to bring la souffle de vie back into the infamous and highly-misunderstood witch character of Karaba. Parallely, Karaba in the movie is feared by all village people, with rumours swirling around her name that she captures and eats men. It only takes the youngest and bravest of the bunch Kiriku, who doesn’t feed into those lies, to face her mischievousness in person and ultimately free her from a kept secret. It is then as the audience, we must confront our misjudgment of her and realize that Karaba was tortured by a mob of men who pierced a poisoned thorn in her neck. This was the reason for her villain arc all along; she was hurt by men before she began projecting that hurt onto others.

In her rollout clip, Davinhor, dressed in a beautiful white gown and African head scarf, shares that there was a time people used to call her Karaba the witch. She explains it is due to her being perceived as arrogant, villainized, and just like the film portrays, people didn’t dare to uncover the truth. The reasoning behind her pain was never questioned and she wore the rumours like an armour. Unlike the hero Kiriku who saves the witch from her own demise, Davinhor goes on to elaborate that she had to liberate herself from the shackles of her past, and now as a mother, she will warn her daughter of the same dangers she overcame as a woman. This can all be boiled down to her powerful translated words and we quote; “Being a black woman is a combat for life.”

Black women facing scrutiny in the music industry is unfortunately nothing new in the space. From the Lijadu Sisters urging women autonomy in the 70s, only for it to be echoed by Tems decades later, who founded the Leading Vibe Initiative to challenge those same narratives against women in music, it is a vicious cycle that women of colour are forced to participate in. Davinhor is no stranger to this harsh reality, and perhaps under more scrutiny for being part of a French society who has made the norm to villainize black women without end.

When we state that Davinhor is the hardest French rapper right now, we meant it. She has all of the elements of a number one rapper; the personality, the bars, the storytelling… Then why isn’t she celebrated and praised to the same regard as male artists in the rap game? And this is where her character Karaba falls into place, not only to personify Kavinhor’s own villain arc and triumph, but also, exposing the industry for trying their best to diminish her light.

Just like the sun never fails to rise, Davinhor didn’t let it slow her down to the slightest. From her newly becoming a mother and the release of her album in February, the once-proclaimed-karaba-the-witch is resonating to the true power of womanhood at full display. Her rapping skills have only garnered more eyes to her music, circulating across the world wide web like lightning. Despite all odds against her, we are sure that Davinhor’s day will come and the world will have no choice but to recognize her reign as the hardest rapper on the mic in France right now.

Cover: Virginie Cherie

This month marks Women's History Month, and so it is only fitting that we unveil our third cover for our Cultivators Issues. And it is only even more fitting that it be The Queen of Dancehall herself, Spice. When it comes to the title of The Queen of Dancehall, there is only one person who can stand fit to wear that title. The past 25 years of her career have shown her resilience and ability to embody everything that it means to be the Queen of Dancehall. Spice is a cultivator whose legacy extends beyond her and deserves to be celebrated in every way. 

Having Spice grace our cover is an occasion in itself, and it's an honour to give her flowers, as her impact on music has been monumental. The energy we captured during our cover shoot at East London's Blankbox Studios felt like a special moment for everyone who gathered to bring the editorial vision to life—spanning an evening and ending shortly after midnight. The atmosphere really felt like a real excitement and celebration of what we were creating and bringing together in honouring the Queen of Dancehall for this issue. 

For Spice, the meaning of the word cultivation goes beyond its definition and holds significance for her. "When I hear the word cultivation, mi feel it deep in mi spirit. Cultivation means planting something, even when nobody believed in it, watering it with hard work, dedication, tears, prayer, sacrifice, and faith—then standing tall when it finally bears fruit. For me, cultivation is about patience and purpose." She shares, as we speak, what it feels like to be a cultivator. "I had to cultivate my sound, my blue hair image, my confidence, my stage craft and most importantly, my voice as a woman in a male-dominated space. Nobody handed me my crown or my throne—I built it piece by piece, one year at a time." The last 25 years of her career have been evidence of this. She is someone who has never been shy about expressing herself, whether it be through her music, her style, or just the way she presents herself.

Entering the music scene in 2000, she has been able to craft a career of longevity, something she has recognised as a long road from the outset. "My career has been a journey of evolution. From “Fight Over Man" “Jim Screechie” to "Ramping Shop”, “So Mi Llike it" "Go Down Deh" and many other hits, I metamorphosed from controversial to being celebrated, from underground clashes to international stages. I've been misunderstood, criticised, boxed in—and still, I rise every time. I cultivated resilience. I cultivated authenticity. I never watered down who I am to make anybody comfortable." Throughout this, she has maintained her belief in herself, stepping out of her experiences of poverty and homelessness and building a career many can only aspire to have. No doubt there have been challenges along the way; however, it's her ability to rise above them and still stand in the power that has recognised her as the woman she is.

Meeting her 25 years into her career, there is no way we cannot look back and see just how far she has come, and she recognises this when it comes to where her career started. "When I first started in Jamaica, I didn't have this big, polished blueprint of what being an artist would look like. What I did have was hunger, confidence, and a strong belief in myself. I knew I wanted my voice to be heard, and I knew I wasn't going to blend in or play small just to fit into Dancehall." This was a driving force and has cemented her artistic power throughout the years. When you listen to Spice, you hear an unapologetic nature. No matter what she is singing about, she is somebody who never apologises for who she is.

Her legacy is rooted not only in her culture, as reflected in her music, but also in everything she represents as a Jamaican woman. Having graced stages across the world, she has always carried her pride in her heritage and in what it means to carry the island's flag. And this is something she has always carried throughout her career and has recognised in the responsibility she takes on. "I come from a small island, but the culture is big, and I've always taken that responsibility seriously. Every time I step on an international stage—whether it's a major festival, a TV platform, or a collaboration with global artists—I know I'm not just representing Spice, I'm representing Jamaica, Dancehall, and Caribbean culture. I carry that with pride." Looking at where Dancehall has reached in 2026, there is no doubt that Spice has been a big part of making that happen. For artists such as Jada Kingdom, Pamputtae, Shenseea, Stalk Ashley, and Lila Iké, these are just a few examples of artists who have benefited from the legacy Spice has built throughout her career. And this impact and legacy are not something she takes lightly, and she has seen them in the new generation. "Seeing younger artists now travelling, charting, and being embraced globally feels like confirmation. It tells me that the foundation we laid helped make it possible. Dancehall is evolving, and that's natural. I took the baton from those who came before me, and I never stopped. Now, knowing I played a part in taking it from the streets of Jamaica to the global stage, that's legacy." 

One of the things that has continued to maintain that legacy is her ability to grow and evolve throughout her career. Travelling and performing all over the world, as well as collaborations and creative expansions, have allowed her to step into different spaces and genres, while still maintaining what makes her Spice. As you listen through her discography, each era has brought us a different version of Spice, keeping in step with the shifts and changes of the world and the music industry. She has never been one to let herself stay comfortable or be boxed into one thing. She has always welcomed change and allowed herself to experience and push herself without losing the essence of Spice. "I stay inspired by collaborating across cultures while still keeping my Jamaican identity front and centre. That's how creativity expands beyond the diaspora—by being confident in where you're from, while being open to exchange and growth. Whether it's experimenting with new sounds, visuals, or platforms, I make sure the culture is respected and not diluted."

The latest evidence of this was her 2024 release, Mirror 25. The album was an ode to her legacy and was a marker of where she is now, 25 years into her career. As well as being introspective and being able to reflect. It once again represents a special time in her career, which has been no small thing. "Mirror 25 represents reflection, growth, and survival. It's me standing in the mirror and looking at every version of myself over the past 25 years, the struggle, the strength, the mistakes, the victories, and the evolution. That album is not just music, it's a testimony." At this point in her career, she is operating from a place of freedom and fearlessness. Having gone through the experience of being stuck in a record deal to life-threatening health issues and other hurdles she has had to overcome in her career, Spice is at a different point in her life, and this is something that is represented in the album. "At this point in my artistry, I'm confident and fearless. I know who I am, and I'm no longer creating to prove myself. I'm creating to tell my truth. Mirror 25 reflected maturity, versatility, and self-awareness. It shows that I can still deliver hardcore Dancehall while also exploring vulnerability, storytelling, and global sounds." 

Seeing her bask in the celebration of this music, receiving her flowers, the celebration of her legacy has been no small effort. In the past year alone, she took the stage for the return of Red Bull’s Culture Clash and took the crown as its winner. She also took the stage at the 2025 MOBO Awards, headlined both City Splash Festival and Boomtown Festival. As well as performing at the 10th Anniversary of Wireless Festival, reunited with her longtime collaborator, Vybz Kartel. And these are a few moments; however, they indicate how far Spice and Dancehall as a genre have come. "The past year has honestly felt surreal and deeply humbling. To stand on those stages, to be invited into those spaces, and to feel that love not just from my Jamaican people but from audiences around the world, reminded me of why I started in the first place. Moments like those don't come overnight. They come from years of work, sacrifice, resilience, and believing in yourself even when the odds were stacked." There is a deep gratitude she carries, and not something she takes lightly, given the cultural impact Spice has had globally.  

When speaking about everything we have discussed, I'm aware that Grace Hamilton is, too. The person beneath the artist. She is someone who has grown and changed over the years, maintaining her own peace of mind and standing strong in what is important and meaningful to her. Outside of Spice, she is a mother and someone who exists in her own right. When speaking to this, I'm intrigued to know what she has learnt about herself over the years and what it has meant for her to reach this point in her life. "Over the years, one of the biggest lessons I've learned is to stay true to myself. Trends will come and go, opinions will change, but authenticity is what keeps you standing for decades. I learned early that you can't build longevity pretending to be someone else, you have to know who you are and protect that." Protecting herself from everything that comes with being an artist and all that comes with that has also been a big thing for her. "I've learned to value faith, family, and self-worth. Success doesn't mean much if you lose your peace. Protecting my mental space, choosing my circle carefully, and knowing when to rest have become just as important as the grind". 

Her faith has played a big part in her life, not just personally but also throughout her career, and she has never been quiet about it when it comes to her relationship with God. The single "God Don't Play About Me," released at the beginning of this year, was just one of the songs that have expressed her faith. Other songs like "You Are Worthy", "Spice Marley", and "God A Bless Me" are all acknowledgements of the role that her faith has had throughout her life. "My faith has been my anchor. When the noise got loud, when the criticism was heavy, when doors felt closed, and people counted me out, my faith reminded me who I belong to and why I'm still standing as the Queen of Dancehall," she tells me "Faith gave me peace in chaos, strength in weakness, and clarity when I felt lost. God also reminded me that He's always by my side. My faith taught me patience, resilience, and gratitude, even in the hard seasons."

As the conversation comes to a close, there is so much more to discuss, but since we have spoken in depth about her career so far, we have reached this point. Spice is also embarking on and embracing the next phase of her career, as heard in her latest releases “Clean and Fresh” and "Soft Girl Era". The latest sounds are bringing a new vibe that reflects where her artistry is taking her in this next part of her life. "Right now, I'm in a very intentional chapter of my life and career. With "Soft Girl Era", that's exactly where I am in my glow-up season, stepping into a softer, more elevated, more self-aware version of myself while still being powerful and unapologetic." With everything we have discussed, there is a newfound freedom and fearlessness that Spice carries, knowing everything she has achieved and still plans to. "Creatively, I feel free. I feel inspired. I feel like I'm upgrading in every way sonically, visually, and emotionally. I want the world to see my versatility: that I can be fierce and dominant, but also feminine, reflective, playful, classy, and evolving. This is about showing growth without losing my edge."

This new chapter for Spice carries excitement about what she will bring next. As she continues to grow and evolve, and what that will expand to, and even though it comes with a new vibe and energy, there is still no letting go of who Spice is. "This chapter is about elevation of mind, music, image, and spirit. Soft… but still strong." As the conversation draws to a close, we return to the title of The Queen of Dancehall and what it has felt like to carry that, in terms of the pressure to uphold it and the way people view her as such. "Carrying the title Queen of Dancehall comes with pressure, but it also comes with purpose. When people look at you as a queen, they expect strength, excellence, leadership, and consistency at all times. That weight is real," she tells me. Ultimately, it comes back to everything we have discussed throughout the conversation, underscoring the importance of authenticity and staying true to oneself. And so as we celebrate and honour the reign of Queen Spice, we are looking forward to seeing where the next 25 years take her.

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Credits:

Creative Director/Photographer: Satori Cascoe

Producer: Seneo Mwamba

Co-Producer: Whitney Sanni

Creative Producer: Zekaria Al-Bostani

Lighting Assistant: Nicola Sclano

Lead Stylist: Ramario Chevoy

Styling Assistants: Selvie Brika  & Rudina Brika

Hairstylist/ Hair Artist: Shamara Roper

Hair Assistant: Funmi Oriola, Rochelle Grant

Nail Artist: Jenelle Roper

Makeup Artist: Aba Ahmed

Set Design: Rachel Ifediora

Set Assistant: Lolly Whitney Low

Hanson: BTS Photographer

BTS Videographer: Bruno

Design: Shalem

Extras: Marisse Dyer, Abida Bartholomew , Angel Cole , Melissa-Ebony Cumberbatch, Tameisha Edwards, Jonness Conteh , Annie Andriami Harisoa, Amy Allison

Studio: Blankbox Studios

Food: Guava Grill, Suya Jerks

Interview: Seneo Mwamba

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The history of Nigerian music does not start and end with Fela Kuti. For the glorious child that is Afrobeats today was once dust, before the labour of the hands of those that lived before it, their struggle for firmament and form breathing life into its nostrils many years later. But time and again, history itself informs us, albeit by its inaction, on how often and large the war stories of women go untold. It is a disembodiment in practice. Or, as is more seemly, organised obliteration. But what is certainly not possible to erase is the understanding that if there is an ubiquity of successful women in contemporary Nigerian music today, it is no doubt thanks to the women pacesetters that have come before them, fighting then to be seen just as what they were—artists who just wanted to matter—in a field swamped with prejudice.

In the wilds of the industry, these Nigerian women blazed trails across diverse genres, bringing, perhaps what could be named as most imperative: a differing point of view. That is, beyond mere sonic variety, or as opposed to mannequin representation (where the presence of women is only some sort of side attraction), the light of these women’s voices reproduced a new spectrum of experiences, stories. Of pleasure, pain, agitation… what it meant—means—to be a woman.

The following is an impossible-yet-necessary attempt at highlighting the triumph of some of these women.

1. Christy Essien-Igbokwe.

From the 1970s to the late 90s, Christy Essien-Igbokwe established herself as a Nigerian pop culture sensation. Her roots in music and acting would yield fruits of a career studded with excellence, and flowers alike in the plethora of awards and honours (including Doctorates) she received at home and abroad in both fields. She sang in her native language, Ibibio, but also in Igbo,Yoruba, Efik, and English, recording ten albums to her name, including the 1981 favourite, ‘Ever Liked My Person?’ which would go on to be the pioneering platinum album in Nigerian music history. From a discography charged with traces of R&B, Soul, and Highlife came hit tracks such as ‘Seun Rere’, ‘Rumours’, and ‘You Can’t Change a Man’. From a seventeen year old releasing her debut album in 1977 to becoming the ‘Lady of Songs.’ Between 1996 and 1999, she served as the first female president of the Performing Musicians Association of Nigeria. She passed away amid immense tributes in 2011.

2. The Lijadu Sisters.

Ambitious twin sisters determined to make a name for themselves debuted on the bubbling and male-centric post-civil war music scene with a ballad to their mother, ‘Iya Mi Jowo’, at twenty, in 1968. Later came the record deal with Afrodisia. Then ‘Danger’ (1976)—their first international breakthrough; then three more seminal albums to complete an incredible run of four in four years. Having drawn influences from their mother’s foreign record collection and later from local genres, collaborations with multinstrumentalist Biddy Wright and renowned drummer Ginger Baker further refined their fusion of Afrobeat, Rock, Reggae, & Jazz. ‘Come on Home’, ‘Orere-Elejigbo’, and ‘Life’s Gone Down Low’ are some of their most popular tracks. In the 1979 documentary, Kokombe: The Nigerian Music Pop Scene, the sisters are filmed amplifying the rising agency of women in post-colonial Nigeria as well as their dissatisfaction at the exploitative behaviour of their label bosses, mirroring some of the themes that pervade their work. Today, while Kehinde is of blessed memory, Taiwo lives in Harlem, preserving the legend of her sister, and the legacy of their music.

3. Queen Oladunni Decency.

Born Serifatu Oladunni Oduguwa, seventeen-year old Queen Oladunni Decency broke the gender monopoly of Yoruba Juju music with her guitar and an audacious band in 1956. The first female guitarist in Nigeria, she first shredded the sexist dissonance that alienated the co-existence of two ideas: women, and musical instruments. She would then, off the growing mobility of women that the civil war afforded, achieve huge success as a band leader, performing to critical acclaim as Her Majesty Queen Oladunni and Her Unity Orchestra. She attained national recognition and was fondly called ‘Mummy Juju’ by fans. Sadly she passed away at 28.

4. Hajiya Fatima Lolo.

What’s more poetic than a historian living for more than a hundred years? Fatima Muhammadu Kolo, turned Fatima Lolo, began her journey to stardom performing in village gatherings first, then in more elaborate circles in her place of birth, Etsu, in Northern Nigeria. Lolo’s grip on the reins of glory would be tighter after getting turbaned Sagi Ningbazhi (Queen of Musicians) by the 10th Etsu Nupe, ruler of the Nupe people, bringing prestige to her local music industry. Alongside Her Nupe Group, Lolo became a staple in the company of dignitaries throughout the North, carrying in Nupe music the memory of a people and a wisdom seasoned by time. One of her most enduring releases is her 1985 album, ‘Ewodechizi’. Her many years of excellence would eventually earn her a National Honour, a Member of the Order of Niger. And on May 15, 1997, aged 106 and after a lifetime of riding, the Queen descended from her horse.

5. Onyeka Onwenu.

Onyeka Onwenu was a multihyphenate. Dazzling audiences with glitter as she wielded her talents across music, journalism, film, fashion, and activism, shapeshifting, earning her the nickname ‘Elegant Stallion.’ While working her broadcasting job at Nigerian Television Authority (NTA), she released her 1981 debut LP, ‘For the Love of You’. Onwenu wrote and presented a BBC documentary; Onwenu won a Best Actress award at the Africa Movie Academy Awards; Onwenu, while at NTA and when it was unpopular, protested against their refusal to pay royalties on her song. All these with the image of her manicured hair and its slight patch of grey so that it is almost inseparable from her icon. Of her many hits, the 1986 anthem, ‘One Love’, is the best known. She released four albums in total before switching her Soul and Pop majors for Gospel in the nineties. She was twice awarded the National Honours, and also later served as the Executive Director of the National Centre for Women Development in 2013. She passed away amid nationwide tributes in July 2024.

6. Salawa Abeni.

For Waka music, Batile Alake first, then Salewa Abeni. But it was Abeni who took the recipe from the fifties to sate the appetite of the seventies. She contemporaralised Waka music, a traditional genre that was an offspring of, and popular among Yoruba muslim women. As a teenager she sold one million copies of her 1976 debut record, ‘Late Murtala Muhammed’, becoming the first Nigerian female artist to achieve the feat, quickly turning her to the life of fame. At the turn of the eighties, Salawa Abeni and Her Africa Waka Modernizer had injected popular appeal into a redundant genre, contesting the field with more enduring and male-dominated genres in the industry. ‘Gentle Lady’ is one of her most evergreen songs, her 1990 hit. Two years later she was crowned “Queen of Waka Music” by the then monarch of Oyo, the Alaafin, Oba Lamidi Adeyemi. In a 2011 interview for her 50th birthday, “A lot of water has passed under the bridge,” Abeni says; “I never knew I was going to be as great as this…”

7. Evi-Edna Ogholi.

At twenty-one, Evi-Edna Ogholi happened upon the late 1980s with ‘My Kind of Music’, a reggaeton album of African expression. Coming into a male-thick genre and from the same enclave (Delta state) as reggae maestro Majek Fashek, she shows no diffidence when she sings, “Special dedication to all lovers of reggae / music / all over the world” on the album’s titular track. She would later be dubbed the Queen of African Reggae by fans, often sporting Jamaican costume and a wide smile. ‘Happy Birthday’, and ‘Oghene Me’ are her most famous tracks today. 

It is a marvel to see how far women have come: from existing as microfauna in an ecosystem that moralised feminine participation in popular music to producing immortals even across different genres. Today, although women still struggle more to break barriers in the industry when compared to their male counterparts, it is, again, thanks to these women pacesetters that have come before them, fighting to be seen just as what they were. And while there remains many more of them to be talked about, an attempt at total recognition has been declared impossible from the gun.

IG: @fortuneakande

Black Women in French Music on the Rise 

The French music rise is no longer just another discovery playlist––it is a momentum here to stay. Now, it would be in your best interest to get familiar with those exceptional female acts pushing boundaries across the Francophone sphere & beyond. Far from being mere singers draped in extravagance and flamboyance, these artists embody a generation of black women reshaping soundscapes, trampling on their male counterparts, and setting cohort trends for others to follow. It is the rebellion spirit that resides within them that we hope resonates throughout this year’s Women’s Day.

Aya Nakamura

Aya Danioko, better known to everyone as Aya Nakamura is a French-Malien Afropop singer who really sparked in 2018 when she released ‘Nakamura’ with hit singles such as ‘Copines’ and ‘Djadja.’ Ever since, music listeners have been infatuated and inseparable with the star. Her Afro-blending sound coupled with relatable and authentic lyrics, makes Aya one of the most sought-after French artists to date. Not to forget her unmatched personality, she truly earns the title of the Queen of France. Her latest album ‘Destinée’ includes guest appearances from our Jamaican covergirl Shenseeea, JayO and more.

Theodora

A new addition to the French-speaking roster of female rockstars is none other than recent Les Victoires de la Musique Award winner, Afro-fusion French-Congolese singer Theodora. What is there not to love about her? Theodora’s music is fun and carefree; however, she also tackles heartfelt topics that a lot of young black women can relate to. At just 22, she shook the world with hit songs such as ‘melodrama’ and ‘MASOKO NA MABELE.’ featuring music producer THIZIZLONDON. Theodora is definitely one of the more experimental emerging French artists who doesn’t let a specific genre define her.

Yseult

There is a special place in our hearts when it comes down to French-Cameroonian Pop singer and model Yseult. Getting her start on screen in a French TV show called Nouvelle Star in 2014, when she was only 20, the icon’s rise to stardom was nothing close to ordinary. Yseult is also the only singer on our list that works independently. Her music often echoes a melancholic ballad, penetrating topics about love, heartbreak, depressive episodes and many more. Along with her masterful collaborations such as ‘Wine’ with Rema, and more recently ‘Alibi’, Yseult manages to never leave our sight.

Tshegue

Tshegue is a French-Congolese Afropunk group consisting of Faty Sy Savanet (the face) and Nicolas 'Dakou' Dacunha. The best way to describe their sound is like a ball of energy. Although Faty mainly expresses herself through Lingala, a native language in both Republic of Congo, Democratic Republic of Congo, and Central-Africa, the electronic flare that Nicolas delivers is obviously of obscure Parisian niches. In short, Tshegue’s music is not for the weak! This is evident in tracks such as ‘Na Boyi’ and ‘Pili Pili.’ Faty’s lyrics often call for a revolt, which can correlate to the constant unrest in Eastern Congo.

Lous and The Yakuza

Last but not least, Lous and The Yakuza is a Congolese-Belgian multilingual singer-songwriter and model. Some of you may recognize Lous based on her bookclub. Needless to say, she is an artist of many talents, a gift that keeps on giving. Notable songs from her catalogue are ‘Dilemme’ and ‘Je ne sais pas.’ Perhaps you may have noticed The Yakuza in her artist name that derives from giving flowers to her music collaborators. One more interesting fact about her is that the singer has a lot of other interests aside from music such as poetry, which really makes her a virtuose of the arts.

In recent weeks, social media, or perhaps more appropriately, the corner of social media concerned with all things Nigerian music, has lit up with something resembling holy indignation over a seven-month-old Billboard article. The article, titled ‘The Biggest One Hit Wonders of the 25th Century,’ puts Rema at the number six spot, on account of his putative failure to reprise the surreal heights he attained with ‘Calm Down’ remix, featuring Selena Gomez. “The No. 3-peaking "Calm Down" was obviously not veteran pop superstar Gomez's only hit, but Rema has yet to make it to the Hot 100 again,” the article notes, in a tone that seems somewhere between dour and cheeky. “Although he has landed six top 10s on the U.S. Afrobeats Songs, through the June 7, 2025, chart,” the writer follows, on a somewhat conciliatory note.

It was a sedate Sunday afternoon when I happened upon a tweet decrying the article as malicious. Before long my timeline had transformed into a sizzling pastiche of takes and polemics on the subject. Rival fans seized upon the article, wielding it to downplay Rema’s impact on Afrobeats. I found this ironic, if Rema, who made the biggest Afrobeats song and has constantly bent the culture to his will at every turn in his career was suddenly insignificant because of a Billboard article, what claims does anyone else on the scene have to significance? Expectedly, fans of Rema and Nigerian music enthusiasts have forcefully railed against the Billboard article. Even those who have maintained an ambivalent stance, have been no less involved in the conversation. What all of this immediately gestures at is the immense significance the Billboard Chart holds in this part of the world. 

But even this assessment barely captures the full picture. Weeks ago, the Grammys, in usual fashion, set off a salvo of debates, ranging from conversations about who deserved to win in the recently minted Best African Music Performance category to debates on the relevance of the category. Taken together, these underscore the degree to which Western validation has become a mainstay in the Nigerian music industry. The question then becomes: Why is this so? Why do Nigerian music enthusiasts care so much about western validation? Putting aside the singular cultural influence the western world, America in particular, wields over the rest of the world, and the fact that American charts and awards have come to be lodestars for music scenes across the world, Nigerian music artists and stakeholders disproportionately value western validation for the same reasons droves of Nigerians migrate to these regions every year: the desire for better opportunities. 

Nigerian artists are nowhere near being unique in their fascination with American success. Stretching back to the early days of the country, America has attracted strivers from around the world, eager to make good on their American dreams. And Nigerian artists are no different. Winning a Grammy or scoring a Billboard Hot 100 hit instantly signals ascendancy into a rarefied club. It also translates to increased commercial success, as well as visibility and access. For everyday Nigerian music fans, who relish a good grass-to-grace story, it's not hard to see the appeal of success on the Billboard Charts or the Grammy stage; and by extension, why we care so much about what the Billboard charts have to say about our artists. But I suspect it also owes something to our local metrics of success being in a shambolic state. 

The Headies, which is supposed to be the Nigerian equivalent of the Grammys, continues barreling towards obsolescence. Every year, the show’s production quality and organizational problems drive a wedge between the award and fans. These days the nation's biggest artists don't bother attending and the complaints of former years have given way to collective apathy. The Turntable Charts, the nation’s eminent music chart, despite the best efforts, still struggles to muster the widespread acceptance and cultural cachet it needs to be a cultural authority in Africa in the way the Billboard Charts is in America and indeed much of the western hemisphere. On this front, it has to be noted that the good people of the Turntable Charts are doing an excellent job and require all the funding and institutional support they can get to maximize their potential. 

It’s tempting to wrap up this piece with a feel-good rallying call for Nigerian music fans and stakeholders to avert their gaze from Western honors and milestones, even if only momentarily, and look inwards. It’s true that in our pursuit of global domination, we have neglected local institutions, and that now more than ever we need to return to building structures and systems that can better serve the local industry. But I’ll be remiss if I fail to call out Western music institutions for their half-assed efforts at recognizing Afrobeats or Nigerian music as a whole. When you take the Billboards Chart branding Rema a “one-hit wonder”—which makes no sense regardless of whatever angle we look at it from (he’s not an American artist, so why should the Billboards Hot 100 be used to decide his hits?—and the fracture between the Grammys and current trends within Afrobeats, what one finds is that while these platforms constantly affirm their interest in Nigerian music, they’re often unwilling to do the work required to properly recognize the genre. 

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We truly thought that South East London Zimbabwean-born rapper Leostaytrill couldn’t be any more talented, but he proved us all wrong. At such a young age, Leo embodies determination, persistence and a growing music catalogue that has placed Zimbabwe’s emerging talents on the map. In 2023, he made a lasting first impression with ‘2 Man’ and ‘Honeybun,’ playing around catchy punchlines and a charismatic demeanor that won the internet over just by one listen. From there, Leo’s chances to stardom only faced upwards. However, it is his recent take on melodic tunes that has us really intrigued.
This new direction caught us by surprise when Leo started teasing ‘Peace’ over social media in October. His singing voice sounded smooth, strong, with promising vocals Leo had yet to explore. This phenomena really solidified when ‘Jah Knows’ released last December. In the official music video, one specific scene, you can catch a young Leo proudly rocking the Zimbabwean flag over his neck. Just with a few details, the message was clear; Leostaytrill is not only making music for himself but also, for his Zimbabwean people.
If there’s one thing about Leo is that his country is fully behind him and supports every step he takes towards becoming the next superstar. Similarly to Pa Salieu and his predominantly Gambian audience. Leo’s approach to the inclusion of his heritage is present, but not all up your face. At times, when members of the diaspora tried to implement aspects of their heritage, it often gets labeled as tacky or inauthentic. However, Leostaytrill isn’t hiding that he is a boy of the South London’s trenches. Instead, he welcomes it through rap lyrics, while letting his singing shine a softer light, that can be interpreted as the little Zimbabwean boy in him that never left.
In the song ‘Blessing’ is where we saw no returning, but it did not come without setbacks. Like all artists are destined to face, Leo was met with multiple questions by his supporters surrounding whether he was turning a new leaf and leaving the rap game behind. Of course, Leo made sure to clarify; singing was only an extension to his artistry, and not a career move. You see, it is very common for artists to want to try new elements and for those core listeners who have only seen one side of their favourites thus far to slowly grow attached. As a result, any change can be received negatively. At times, fans may say that their acts became too Hollywood or commercial, that they forgot where they came from. The question is will Leo fall into this trap or manage to balance those two sides of him, knowing change is inevitable.
Up-and-coming singer-rapper Leostaytrill is not just a talent to watch, but also one to make notes of. When one browses through his social media, we know that Leo understands how to market himself online and he showcases his roots through a lens that many music listeners know so little of. It is his badge of honour rather than something that is supposed to limit him sonically. Ever since Drake popularized being a rapper as much as a singer, only a few artists managed to follow his footstep and keep this overall balance tasteful. Leo can certainly be the next man in the UK to follow suit. That’s to say, it may be the biggest risk he has yet taken in his career, but from the looks of it, Leo has the golden touch meant for greatness.

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In celebration of Black History Month, the Deeds Writing Program of 2025 came together to present the top 100 Afrobeats songs of all time; however, there’s a catch. Each selection also reflects a deep personal attachment to the song—whether through a formed memory, a defining moment in time, or the start of a new movement.

For years, Afrobeats has opened doors for Africans like never before. Along those creative communities include Deeds Magazine that fronts as a power hold for the genre and so many more sub-cultures across the African continent. We can confidently attribute the sound as a vessel for emerging careers and talents to take shape and it was only, therefore, right to give this movement its flowers.

‍ 1. Top of the Morning by Black Sheriff

“This track is one hell of a piece. It held me down months ago, and Black absolutely delivered. The message cuts deep: if you don’t get your sh*t together, you stay stuck, because no one is coming to save you. People claim they understand your struggle, but it’s usually just talk. He’s been on gas since his 2021 breakthrough, truly Ghana’s finest gem." - Shankara

2. Again by Wande coal

“This song is the perfect love song from our OG Wande Coal. Anytime it plays, it brings out the lover girl or boy in anyone. You might not be in love and might not even know what love feels like, but this song will make you feel it anyway.” - Ruqayyah

3. Stay by Rocky Maye

“The lyrics describe a relationship where the protagonist is trying to convince a love interest of his sincerity. He admits to being captivated by her ("You dey make I wonder") and promises commitment, mentioning wanting to take her on a "baecation" and give her the attention she deserves. The perfect “Lover boy” Anthem!” - Shankara ‍

4. Escaladizy by Mavo and wave$tar

‍ “Escaladizzy isn’t about deep lyrics or making logical sense and it doesn’t need to be. It is strictly a vibe. This is the track you play to snap out of a heavy mood and get right back into the groove. It’s a sonic palate cleanser; a total head-bopper designed to turn off your brain and turn up the energy. Sometimes, you don’t need a message, you just need a beat. - Shankara‍

5. Dorobucci by Mavins ‍

“Possibly one of the greatest Afrobeats songs of all time. It’s the perfect song to get ready to or to transport you back to the simplicity of 2014 and everyone has an opinion on whose verse goes the hardest (personally I will always fight for Tiwa Savage).” - Mayowa

6. Leg Over by Mr Eazi and Major Lazer

“You know that song that suddenly pops out and becomes a hit? Leg Over was that song. Leg Over by Mr Eazi and Major Lazer dropped late 2016 and completely dominated the industry in 2017. It was one of those 2017 OG songs. 2017 had a lot of songs we’ll be seeing below.” - Ruqayyah‍

7. Mad over you by Runtown‍

“Afrobeats songs of all time and Mad Over You isn’t there? That would be a crime , punishable by Afrobeats fans. Mad Over You was also one of the 2017 hits, played everywhere. Mad over you, everywhere you go  “Ghana girl say she wan marry me ooo.” That song will forever be iconic.”- Ruqayyah‍

8. Did You See by J Hus‍

“Ask anyone who was outside in 2017 and they will tell you that ‘Did You See’ was truly everywhere. This was, and still is, a song which defines summer. This is the song you hear coming out of cars driving past, the song coming out of the beaten up speaker at the 5-a-side pitch, the song gassing up crowds in nightclubs. Whatever J Hus laced into this tune still injects energy into everyone who hears it.” - Adam Brocklesby‍

9. City Boys by Burna Boy

‍“When Burna Boy popped out with DJ AG at King’s Cross, I happened to be cycling home from work and joined the masses to watch the Nigerian megastar at one of his smallest concerts ever. He finished the set with City Boys, fitting for a show on the streets of the British capital. The crowd were so excited you could barely hear his voice nor barely move to dance, but the vibes were so high in the July heat that commuters and fans alike were celebrating to this recent Afrobeats classic”  - Adam Brocklesby‍

10. Energy (Stay Far Away) by Skepta and Wizkid ‍

“There is a particular part of the chorus to this song, Wizkid’s eponymous line “Bad energy stays far away, make it stay far away” which I can hear shouted by crowds of people. It's a collective prayer in the form of Afrobeats and when that DJ inevitably cuts the track just for that line, it never fails to turn a room of strangers into a choir.” - Adam Brocklesby‍

11. Essence by Tems & Wizkid

“This might as well be crowned one of the best collaborations Afrobeats has produced. The sync between Tems & Wizkid is one to write about. When the word 'Alignment' is said,  Essence comes to my mind. It's just that song that fits.’"- Adedoyin Adeoye

12. Olunfunmi by Styl Plus‍

“This song has a special hold on me. Every time it comes on, I pause whatever I’m doing just to sing along. It’s old, yes, but it still sounds fresh and emotional, like it never aged. Leaving it off this list would honestly feel like a crime. It’s one of those classics that refuses to be forgotten." - Adedoyin Adeoye

13. Jealous by Fireboy DML‍

“Old release but from the intro to the vocals to the flow? Fireboy really did something with this sound. From the intro to the vocals and that smooth flow, everything feels intentional. This song is proof that music can still slap." - Adedoyin Adeoye

14. Gobe by Davido

“The 'hand on head' Davido era! That era was 100% Davido. I love this song, especially with the title literally meaning 'trouble.' It was messy, energetic, and peak O.B.O , a total 2013 masterpiece. ” - Ruqayyah ‍

15. IF by Davido

“The song that almost every guy was singing to woo, and suddenly everyone believed they had 30 billion in their account to give their woman. Davido is the ultimate lover boy who made 'financial romance' sound so smooth.” - Ruqayyah‍

16. Holla your boy by Wizkid ‍

“Anyone that doesn’t know this song is not a true fan. It was giving 'Justin Bieber in Nigeria!' The high school setting, the bicycle, and the baseball cap were iconic. It made Wizkid every girl’s crush and was the moment he became the Starboy we know today.” - Ruqayyah

17. Adaobi by Mavins

“Mavins has been giving us iconic hits from day one, and Adaobi is a prime example. Anytime the Mavins come together as a group, you know it’s another big banger. They gave us that legendary call-and-response: 'Ada fine gan (ah fine na ni) Abi be ko o (A be ba bi) 'it's impossible not to join in!” - Ruqayyah

18. Azonto by Fuse ODG

“The dance song of the decade! Azonto was everywhere when it was released. If you don’t know Azonto, there’s a high possibility you aren’t African or you live under a rock. Honestly, not knowing Azonto deserves jail time in an Afrobeats detention center!” - Ruqayyah

19. Crazy Tings by Tems

“Crazy Tings opens If Orange Was A Place with confidence and emotional honesty. It captured a strange global moment,  the uncertainty of the pandemic, the fear of tomorrow, and the fragile hope of trying again. Tems gave language to confusion without panic. It wasn’t escapism; it was acceptance. This song will always remind me of learning to move gently through an unpredictable world.” - Gene Sibeko

20. Ojuelegba by Wizkid

“Although I was in my final year of high school when Ojuelegba was released, it truly soundtracked my first year out of school in 2015. I was living away from home for the first time, navigating Cape Town as a young African woman discovering independence. The song mirrored that moment perfectly feeling exposed, hopeful, and strangely at home while learning how big and generous the continent could be.” - Gene Sibeko

21. So Mi So by Wande Coal

“So Mi So is pure vacation energy. This is the song that plays on girls’ trips, somewhere between sunkissed skin and late afternoons that turn into nights. It carries joy without responsibility. Dance now, worry later. Every time I hear it, I picture sparkly blue water in Durban or Zanzibar, where memories were made loudly, freely, and without an exit plan.” - Gene Sibeko‍

22. Sungba (Remix) by Asake ft. Burna Boy‍

“This song takes me straight back to my first trip across the continent — Ethiopia. A country untouched by colonisation, proud and self-defined. I didn’t understand the lyrics, but I understood the feeling completely. Confidence. Movement. Joy. By by Sungba played as I absorbed African excellence in real time, feeling rich in culture and spirit truly ‘Mr Money with the vibe." - Gene Sibeko‍

23. Maradona by Niniola

“Maradona is the ultimate post-heartbreak reality check. It’s playful but pointed — a reminder that men can play you like football if you let them. This song helped me laugh through disappointment and reclaim my power. It’s about truth, wisdom, and learning not to fall too easily again. Healing doesn’t always have to sound sad; sometimes it sounds like dancing your way back to yourself.” - Gene Sibeko

24. Kiss your hand by R2Bees ft Wande Coal

“Kiss your hand is a song that makes you think of your childhood because of the nostalgia but also about your future romance. Every time I hear it, I’m transported back to my childhood when I didn’t even understand the lyrics. Now as an adult, the undying romance of just wanting to kiss someone’s hand is so aspirational in this day and age.” - Mayowa

25. Ye by Burna Boy

“This song takes me back to being in secondary school and singing it with my friends at break and lunch. I remember that it was absolutely everywhere for the rest of that year and even inspired the iconic meme/song, ‘my ye is different to your ye." - Mayowa

26. Joha by Asake

“When Joha starts playing in the club everyone knows exactly what to do… even those of us that don’t know how to dance or speak French. Asake’s 2022 run was iconic and inspirational; just banger after banger”. - Mayowa

27. Omo Ope by Asake

"I can shout / Mo tun le pariwo’ may be one of the most poetic lines that I’ve heard in a song in a long time. Omo Ope is the perfect song to remind you who you are while you’re getting ready to go out and have a good time. It’s an immediate confidence booster while you’re trying to decide if your outfit looks cool or your makeup is blended enough.” - Mayowa

28. Tumo weto by Mavo

"Tumo Weto" is a luxury anthem twisting the phrase "Two Moët." Lyrically, it highlights the social reality that "only rich people get way." Inspired by phonetic experimentation, Mavo created the track to transform a simple club order into a hypnotic mantra, expanding his signature "Bizzylingua" slang." - Shankara

29. Eminado (Tiwa Savage feat Don Jazzy)

"My mom would play this song on repeat every morning before work, when she would do her morning workout. It famously became known as “her song” and every time we played it, we knew it was Mommy’s song. Tiwa Savage was a must-play in my household. This song was quite literally etched into my family’s brains in 2013– every ad-lib, verse, harmony line." - Emem-Esther Ikpot  

30. Imagine That (Styl-Plus)

"My sister traveled to Nigeria. Upon her return, she came back with several iconic Styl-Plus DVDs that we played 100% into the ground. As silly and weird as my siblings and I were, we even had each interview prelude with T-Jazz and Joey memorized. IMAGINE THAT… And Imagine That remix at the time was the coolest video to ever exist, and although my family is ibibio, we knew all the Yoruba words. Or at least tried to. This was 2005." - Emem-Esther Ikpot  

31. Oyi (remix) (Flavor)

"This was one of my dad’s favorite songs. It’s funny because at the time, this song seemed “new”, relative to his Lagbaja, Fela, and Sunny Ade preferences. Growing up, my parents would speak Ibibio from time to time, but they also spoke a lot of Yoruba. Every time this song played, my dad would emphatically clap, dance, and vibe. He knew all the Yoruba and would explain the meaning to us. This was 2012, and Flavour was rocking the world." - Emem-Esther Ikpot

32. Science Student (Olamide)

"My cousins can DANCE. Same as my siblings, with the exception of myself (I do really try to activate that gene). The way my cousins and siblings would do the Shaku Shaku was enough to shake an entire room, especially when Science Student by Olamide came on. Every family graduation party, when this song came on, it was game over. Everyone would dance like crazy. These were some of the best moments. This was 2018." - Emem-Esther Ikpot

33. KU LO SA (Oxlade)

"This song BELONGED to my sister Elsie, who is easily one of the best dancers I know. She memorized the dance to KU LO SA  like it was her full-time job and hit it every single time. There’s a sort of conviction that this dance requires that she always has. Every time this song plays I’m like WHERE IS ELSIE?!  Always eats. This was 2022." - Emem-Esther Ikpot

34. Over by r2bees

“Over" is the ultimate heartbreak banger. R2Bees pair a bitter story of a lover leaving her man for a man with more money. With an infectious Killbeatz rhythm, It captures the classic Ghanaian spirit: mixing sad lyrics with a sweet melody, so you end up dancing through the rejection rather than crying about it.” - Shankara

35. Coming Back For You - Fireboy DML

“Chadwick Boseman’s passing heavily influenced the plot of Black Panther 2. When Fireboy sang ‘I know that I’ma see you one day’ it felt like a message right to Chadwick. Forever in our hearts.” - Wale Ajala

36. Energy - Wizkid

“One of Wizkid’s slickest flows, once more P.Prime proves he’s a generational producer. Go to 2:02 if you don’t believe me.” - Wale Ajala

37. Wengeze - Eazzy

“The energy and sexiness this song holds alone is why it is one the best afrobeat songs of all time.” - Elisha Kiala

38. Chingnem - Sardokie, Bisa Kdei

“Sardokie and Bisa Kdei chemistry is so magnetic. The production is so smooth, and once the synths kick in you just want to start the song again!” -  Elisha Kiala

39. Chop My Money Remix - P- Square, Akon, Rudeboy, May D, Mr. P

“This song instantly takes me back to my childhood. Hall parties, spraying money. It's one of those cases where the remix superseded the original, which is what remixes are supposed to do.” -  Elisha Kiala

40. Ukwu Nwata - Flavour

“I got introduced to this song by one of my best friends. I wasn’t a fan of flavour in the past but this song turned me into one. The romance this song holds alone, makes me want to take a long walk during summer. The Igbo language is magnetic and the background vocals are such a great touch.” - Elisha Kiala

41. Ayi- Cross Wadle

“‘Too much’ and everyone is immediately on the dance floor. This is how you know it's a banger.” - Elisha Kiala

42. Calm Down - Rema

“Nothing about this song was calm. From the intro to the records it broke. And before anyone knew, the remix with Selena Gomez hit No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and spent over a year on the chart. If Calm down has 1billion, I’m certain enough that I contributed to half of it. The song went on to become the first Afrobeats record to hit a billion on-demand streams (as it should) and reoriented how global pop saw Nigerian music’s reach.” - Dubem Collins

43. Peru - Fireboy DML

“I remember the first time Peru played on a friend’s playlist and how instantly carefree I felt. I could sing the whole song after the first 3 listens, and the chorus “Peru, para” stuck with me for days. The remix with Ed Sheeran did not disappoint at all, and with it came a new wave of attention.” - Dubem Collins

44. Soco - Wizkid, Ceeza Milli, Spotless & Terri

“Soco was everywhere in 2018, the streets, clubs, bars, everywhere, even churches were not spared. The fact that the music was with artists that not a lot of people knew in the country at the moment, also added a certain appeal to it. I’m not so much of a dancer, but every time the song came on, I was forced to move my body. Afterall, proper gbedu no need permission to enter your body.” - Dubem Collins

45. Pana - Tekno

“Tekno knows his way around bangers. Pana had its hooks deep down the country when it dropped. There was no escaping it, and I don’t think anyone wanted to. It was played at weddings, clubs, roadside speakers, everywhere. I played the “hell” out of this song myself and even tried to breakdance as Tekno would. What a time!” - Dubem Collins

46. African Queen - 2baba

“There can't be a Top 100 Afrobeats list without this gem of a music. 2Baba (TuFace at the time) created what became a countrywide sensation at the time, and it also became the foundation stone for Afrobeats’ global journey. I was very young when this song came out, but to this day, I can sing everything word for word. It played at weddings, on the radio, and in films; you could not escape it either.” - Dubem Collins

47. Oliver Twist - D’banj

“Many would say this is the progenitor of Afrobeats going global, and I would not bother to argue. When Oliver Twist dropped in 2011, it broke new ground for Nigerian pop by charting on the UK Singles Chart, a feat few Afrobeats artists had achieved at the time. The video even had the musical genius, “Kanye,” in it. There can’t be a Top 100 Afrobeats song without this as well.” - Dubem Collins

48. Cash App - Bella Shmurda, Zlatan, Lincoln

“When this dropped, I didn’t really vibe to the lyrics, but like I said earlier, proper gbedu no need permission to enter your body. And before you know, my voice became the loudest whenever it came on. This song became the track that cemented Bella Shmurda’s arrival in the mainstream Afrobeats conversation.” - Dubem Collins

49. Fem - Davido

“Talk about timing. Fem dropped at the time the Nigerian youths were standing up and protesting against police brutality in the country. It became the unanimous protest anthem and was chanted at every protest ground across the country. 2020 is a year that no Nigerian youth will forget in a long time, and with it, FEM as well.” - Dubem Collins

50.  Away - Oxlade

“I loved Oxlade even before this dropped, but this was the breakthrough single that transformed his career. The song even had figures like Drake share the track online, spotlighting Oxlade internationally and proving Afrobeats could resonate emotionally and commercially across borders.” - Dubem Collins

51. Enemies - Durella

“Enemies may not have global chart data, but in Nigerian pop culture, it became a catchphrase as much as a song title. It reflected a time when Afrobeats intersected with street rap and lifestyle bravado, and the idea of “enemies” in the lyrics became shorthand for the coming-up struggles many listeners felt. I listened to this song recently, and I couldn’t stop screaming, “Enemies, let me live my life!” Not that I have any enemies, but yeah, the song does that to you when it comes on.” - Dubem Collins

52. Baba Nla - Wizkid

“You know what it’s like to leave your record label with nothing and drop this as your first single as an independent artist? Talk about making a statement! Yeah, Wizkid has always been HIM. And whenever this song comes on, I puff up my shoulder and become as cocky as my goat, because why not? I’m ‘big daddy’ too” - Dubem Collins

53. Hot Body by Ayra Starr

“Hot Body is my personal hype song. Whether I’m getting ready for the gym or a night out, it instantly puts me in the right mindset. It’s a joyful reminder to invest in yourself. Mind, body, and soul. Because when you feel good, you show up differently, and good things follow. Confidence, discipline, and self-love wrapped into one addictive track.” - Gene Sibeko

54. Obianuju by Duncan Mighty

“Junior secondary school days, nothing extraordinary about the moment itself. Just another afternoon with the radio on, and then those opening notes cut through. Duncan's voice carried that Port Harcourt soul into my world for the first time. Sometimes the most significant songs don't announce themselves with fanfare, they just quietly become part of your soundtrack, marking time in the most ordinary, unforgettable way.” - Femi Bakinson

55. Ijoya by Weird MC

“The Ijoya era was absolutely insane. There wasn't a single party you could attend where the DJ wouldn't spin this track. Weird MC owned every dance floor, every gathering. Her voice became the anthem of that season, unavoidable and electric. Everyone knew every word, everyone moved when it dropped. That's when you knew a song had truly taken over. It was everywhere, inescapable, essential.” - Femi Bakinson

56.  Gongo Aso by 9ice

“This was the ultimate party favorite, the song that united generations. Everywhere you went, Gongo Aso was playing. Old and young, men and women, everyone sang along with the same passion. It didn't matter who you were; when those beats hit, you were part of something bigger. A rare song that belonged to everybody, transcending age and gender with pure, undeniable energy.” - Femi Bakinson

57.  Nwa Baby (Ashawo Remix) by Flavour

“Another party staple that demanded participation. As kids, we knew the lyrics were vulgar, but we didn't care one bit. We'd sing along shamelessly, moving to those irresistible beats. There was something liberating about it, that collective rebellion disguised as dancing. Flavour had us all under a spell, and we surrendered willingly, lyrics and all, lost in the rhythm.” - Femi Bakinson

58. Yahooze by Olu Maintain

“This song's arrival was instant domination. The moment it dropped, dance floors belonged to Yahooze. Everyone learned the choreography, those signature moves that made you feel like you were part of something massive. You couldn't just listen, you had to participate, to move exactly right.” - Femi Bakinson

59. Shayo by Bigiano

“Pure club energy distilled into one track. Shayo captured that beautiful, reckless feeling of living completely in the moment. No worries about tomorrow, no dwelling on yesterday, just now, just this beat, just this freedom. It was the soundtrack to carefree nights, the song that reminded us that sometimes the best thing you can do is simply let go and exist fully in the present.” - Femi Bakinson

60.  Raise the roof by Jazzman Olofin x Adewale Ayuba

“A brilliant fusion of Afrobeats and Fuji Music that shouldn't have worked but absolutely did. This was pure feel-good energy, a song that belonged to everyone regardless of age or background. The collaboration brought two worlds together seamlessly, creating something that made you smile before you even realized why. It proved that when great artists respect each other's craft, magic happens. A unifying anthem in every sense.” - Femi Bakinson

61.  Bibanke by Asa

“I first heard this during a quiet evening, and it stopped me cold. Asa's voice carried the weight that most artists spend their careers trying to find. Bibanke was poetry, social commentary wrapped in melody. The guitar work, her delivery, and the lyrics.” - Femi Bakinson

62. Kelekele love by Tiwa Savage

“This was my introduction to the queen herself. Kele Kele Love absolutely dominated the airwaves, you couldn't escape it, and nobody wanted to. Tiwa's voice, that infectious melody, the way she owned every note with confidence and grace. This was the moment we all realized Nigerian music had found another superstar, someone who would define an era. The reign had begun.” - Femi Bakinson

63.  5 and 6 by Naeto C

“ That hook was absolutely catchy, lodging itself in your brain and refusing to leave. Naeto C had this knack for creating memorable choruses that everyone could sing along to effortlessly. The song had swagger, confidence, and that polished production he was known for. "5 and 6" became part of our everyday vocabulary, another phrase Naeto gifted to the culture.” - Femi Bakinson

64. Street Credibility by 9ice x 2Baba

“Another inescapable anthem from 9ice. Street Credibility was everywhere, blasting from cars, shops, parties, phone speakers. He had this uncanny ability to create songs that just infiltrated every corner of daily life. You'd hear it multiple times a day without ever getting tired of it. 9ice understood the streets, and the streets loved him back.” - Femi Bakinson

65. Portharcout son by Duncan Mighty

“Port Harcourt's first son had to make a proper introduction, and he did it spectacularly. This song flooded the airwaves with that distinctive Port Harcourt sound we'd come to love. Duncan Mighty was carrying an entire city on his shoulders, and he wore that responsibility with pride.” - Femi Bakinson

66.  Mr. Lecturer by Eedris Abdulkareem

“I absolutely loved this song. Eedris Abdulkareem truly did his thing. The storytelling was raw and real.” - Femi Bakinson

67.  Ole by Sound Sultan

“Sound Sultan called out thieves with this bold, unapologetic anthem. "Ole" means thief in Yoruba, naming names, pointing fingers, speaking truth to power. The song was controversial, direct, and necessary. Everyone sang along because we all knew the thieves he was talking about.” - Femi Bakinson

68.  My Car by Tony Tetuila

“One of the absolute highlights of my childhood. That hook, "you don hit my car" was permanently embedded in my brain for the longest time. Tony Tetuila created something catchy beyond reason, and as kids we'd sing it endlessly, dramatically, like we actually owned cars worth protecting. The beat, the humor, the energy, it all combined into pure nostalgia. Simple, fun, and utterly unforgettable.” - Femi Bakinson

69.  Angel of my life by Paul Play

“A love song that defined romance for an entire generation. Paul Play's smooth vocals and heartfelt lyrics made this the soundtrack to countless relationships, dedications, and slow dances. It was the song you played when words weren't enough, when you needed music to express what your heart felt. Timeless, sincere, and beautifully crafted.” - Femi Bakinson

70.  First of all by Olamide

“Olamide had EVERYONE in a chokehold with this one. You could be walking down the street and someone would shout "first of all!" and you knew, you absolutely had to respond with "introduction!" It became a cultural call-and-response, a shared language. The song was infectious, clever, and undeniable. ” - Femi Bakinson

71.  Come closer by Wizkid x Drake

“A classic collaboration that proved Wizkid's global reach. Bringing Drake onto an Afrobeats track felt monumental. The chemistry was effortless, the vibe infectious, and the song became an international anthem. Watching Wizkid operate on that level, seamlessly blending worlds, made us all proud.” - Femi Bakinson

72.  Pon pon pon by Dagrin

“Pretty sure every kid back then could rap along to this song word for word. Dagrin's rapid-fire Yoruba delivery was hypnotic, challenging, and addictive. We'd practice until we got it right, stumbling over syllables until they flowed naturally. It became a badge of honor, if you could keep up with Dagrin on Pon Pon, you had credibility. His energy was raw and authentic, representing the streets with unfiltered honesty and skill.” - Femi Bakinson

73.  Double Wahala by Oritsefemi

“Pure street anthem energy. This song had so many quotables, you just had to be there man.” - Femi Bakinson

74.  Action film by MI x Brymo

“That hook was absolutely crazy. Brymo came through and did his thing so well he almost bodied MI on his own track. The contrast between MI's sharp bars and Brymo's haunting vocals created something cinematic, exactly like the title promised.” - Femi Bakinson

75. Superstar by Ice Prince

“ A straight club banger, no discussion needed. Ice Prince was gliding on that beat with effortless swagger and precision. Once the DJ dropped this, people completely lost their home training, all decorum abandoned, pure chaos on the dance floor. The energy was electric, infectious, impossible to resist. Ice Prince earned that Superstar title with this track, proving he belonged at the top of the game.” - Femi Bakinson

76.  Beat of life by Sarz x Wizkid

“Need I say much? That beat is absolutely insane. Sarz created something otherworldly, and Wizkid floated over it like he was born for that exact moment. The production, the melody, the vibe—everything aligned perfectly. Pure magic captured in audio form.” - Femi Bakinson

77.  Dem Mama Anthem by Timaya

“You simply had to sing along to this song, no choice in the matter. Timaya had this way of creating irresistible anthems that grabbed you by the collar and demanded participation. But beneath that infectious, celebratory dancehall beat was something darker—a satirical, mournful chronicle of the Odi massacre. The upbeat tune served as a clever decoy, making us dance while delivering painful truth.” - Femi Bakinson

78. Belle by Omawumi

“Omawumi's voice has always carried this raw, soulful power that stops you mid-conversation. Belle showcased her ability to blend traditional Nigerian sounds with contemporary production, creating something uniquely her own.” - Femi Bakinson

79.  Alobam by Phyno

“The moment Major Bangz's production hit, you were hooked. Phyno delivered his verses with a commanding flow, rapping entirely in Igbo without apology or compromise. "Alobam"—Igbo slang for "my guy"—was a phenomenon that advanced Eastern rap into the mainstream. An anthem celebrating brotherhood, name-dropping Olamide, Flavour, Ice Prince, and P-Square The Clarence Peters-directed video sparked fashion trends, those Alobam tees and gold stars became symbols everyone wanted to wear.” - Femi Bakinson

80.  Shoki by Lil Kesh

“Lil Kesh had everyone busting dance moves to this absolute classic. It didn't matter where you were, once Shoki came on, you had to get on your feet and do the dance. No exceptions, no excuses. The choreography became a cultural phenomenon, a language everyone spoke through movement. Lil Kesh created a moment that united dance floors everywhere with one unmistakable rhythm.” - Femi Bakinson

81.  Shake Body by Skales

“As the name clearly implies, you absolutely had to shake your body. Skales created a command disguised as a song, and we all followed orders gladly. The beat was designed for movement, the energy impossible to contain while sitting still. Sometimes the best songs are the simplest ones that make your body move before your brain catches up.” - Femi Bakinson

82. Ara by Brymo

“Brymo truly knew how to craft catchy hooks that burrowed into your brain. Once Ara came on, singing along wasn't optional, it was compulsory. His unique voice and melodic sensibilities created something hypnotic and irresistible. The simplicity of the hook masked its genius; it stuck with you for days, weeks even.” - Femi Bakinson

83. Juice by Ycee x Maleek Berry

“A classic, plain and simple. Ycee and Maleek Berry created something that felt both fresh and timeless simultaneously. The production was crisp, the vibe immaculate, and the energy infectious. Juice had that rare quality of sounding good everywhere, in the club, in your headphones, at parties, alone in your room. Some songs just get it right from every angle, and this was one of them. Effortlessly cool, endlessly replayable. ” - Femi Bakinson

84.  Soldier by Falz x Simi

“Proper storytelling at its finest. Falz and Simi crafted a narrative that was funny, relatable, and brilliantly executed. The back-and-forth dynamic between them felt natural, like eavesdropping on a real conversation. Then the visuals came and elevated everything, top-notch production that brought the story to life perfectly. This collaboration showed that Nigerian artists could do concept songs with Hollywood-level creativity and execution. Pure artistry from start to finish ” - Femi Bakinson

85.  Jamb Question by Simi

“The song that introduced me to Simi's artistry and what an introduction it was. That hook was taken from Nigerian slang, loosely translating to "don't ask me a stupid question." Simi's wit, her smooth vocals, and clever wordplay all came together beautifully. She wasn't just singing; she was conversing, relating, making you laugh while making you feel. This song showcased her unique ability to blend humor with musicality effortlessly.” - Femi Bakinson

86.  Skin Tight by Mr Eazi x Efya

“Mr Eazi and Efya absolutely cooked on this one. The chemistry between them was undeniable, their voices blending perfectly over that smooth, seductive production. Skin Tight had this intimate, late-night vibe that made you feel something deep. Efya's vocals added layers of emotion while Mr Eazi's laid-back delivery kept everything effortlessly cool. This collaboration proved that sometimes less is more—subtle, sensual, and completely captivating. ” - Femi Bakinson

87.  Tonight by Nonso Amadi

“This song flooded the airwaves, and for good reason. Nonso Amadi's voice carried this gentle vulnerability that made Tonight feel intimate despite its widespread popularity. The production was clean, allowing his vocals to shine without distraction. It became the soundtrack to countless evenings, that perfect song when the night was just beginning and anything felt possible. Nonso proved he belonged among the greats with this one track.” - Femi Bakinson

88.  Yes/No by Banky W

“A love song that captured romance with sophistication and sincerity. Banky W's smooth delivery and heartfelt lyrics made Yes/No the perfect song for expressing feelings you couldn't quite articulate yourself. It became the soundtrack to proposals, dedications, and vulnerable moments.” - Femi Bakinson

89.  Last Last by Burna Boy

“This song is so incredibly good. Burna Boy had everyone singing this heartbreak anthem even in the club, tears and dancing somehow coexisting perfectly. The Tony Braxton sample, his raw emotion, the relatability, it all combined into something magical. People screamed "everybody go chop breakfast" like a battle cry.” - Femi Bakinson

90.  Bumper to Bumper by Wande Coal

“A club classic, no debate necessary. Wande Coal's smooth vocals over that infectious beat created pure magic on dance floors everywhere. The energy was sensual, the vibe undeniable, and the song became synonymous with good times and close dancing. Wande had this gift for making party songs that never felt cheap or disposable. Bumper to Bumper remained timeless, still getting the same reaction years later.” - Femi Bakinson

91.  Johnny by Yemi Alade‍

“ The storytelling was relatable, the hook was addictive, and Yemi Alade’s energy was explosive. Yemi announced herself as a force to be reckoned with, unapologetically bold and undeniably talented.” - Femi Bakinson

92.  Fall in Love by D’Banj

“ A classic that defined an era. D'Banj's charisma radiated through every second of this track, his signature harmonica adding that unique Kokomaster flair. Fall in Love was romantic without being corny, catchy without being simple. It became the soundtrack to countless relationships and hopeful crushes.” - Femi Bakinson

93.  Get me high by Mayd

“ A proper banger from start to finish. Mayd brought that fresh energy and smooth production that made Get Me High irresistible. The vibe was intoxicating, living up to its title perfectly. It had that quality of making everything feel elevated, better, more vibrant.” - Femi Bakinson

94.  Jaga Jaga by Eedris Abdulkareem

“"Jaga Jaga" a slang for shambles in Nigerian parlance and everyone sang this song unapologetically. Eedris fearlessly called out the chaos, corruption, and dysfunction plaguing the nation. The song was controversial, banned even, but that only made it more powerful. We sang it loudly, defiantly, because it spoke the truth we all recognized.” - Femi Bakinson

95.  Oleku by Ice Prince x Brymo

“Ice Prince's sick verse blended flawlessly with Brymo's impossibly catchy hook, creating a nationwide sensation. Oleku was everywhere, you couldn't escape it, and nobody wanted to. The chemistry between them was perfect, each elevating the other's strengths. The song had this effortless cool that made everyone feel stylish just for knowing the words.” - Femi Bakinson

96.  Danfo Driver by Danfo Driver

“That Galala-stepped rhythm and pidgin-reggae infusion struck a chord with everyone. Danfo Driver represented the streets authentically, their sound raw and unapologetically Lagos. Everyone loved this song because it felt real, lived-in, genuine.” - Femi Bakinson

97.  Love Nwantiti by Ckay

“The melody was deceptively simple yet impossibly catchy, worming its way into every corner of the internet and beyond. Watching it blow up on TikTok, hearing it in clubs across continents—it was surreal.” - Femi Bakinson

98.  Dami duro by Davido

“The song that introduced Davido to the world and changed everything. "Dami Duro" meant "don’t hold me back," and we all didn’t exactly hold back. The energy was explosive, youthful, and unapologetically bold. Davido burst onto the scene with confidence that couldn't be ignored, creating an instant anthem that took over streets, clubs, and airwaves.” - Femi Bakinson

99.  One Naira by MI x Waje

“Waje's incredible voice paired with that unforgettable hook, then MI came through with bars that elevated everything. The contrast between Waje's soulful singing and MI's sharp rap created perfect balance.” - Femi Bakinson

100.  Joro – Wizkid

"I don't know about anyone else but Joro was that song that made me feel all giddy. It gave a very smooth and addictive feel. It still does!. If another voice that wasn't Wizkid’s had sung the song, it wouldn't have been a hit. His voice was a key element to the song. Every replay feels like falling in love with it again." - Adedoyin Adeoye

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A Playlist Bringing Back Jams That Didn’t Get Their Flowers

Whether this season of love is filled with butterflies or embers, we have the serenading playlist for you. As Shakespeare once said; “The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite,” and although the musical streets have us fulfilled these past two years with love anthems from ‘Raindance’ by Tems & Dave, and a rise in R&B feels such as Nigerian sweetheart Odeal, these carefully selected songs; however, may have gone over all of our heads. For this reason alone, it is only right to bring them forth once more now that love is in the air and our hearts can’t stop blooming.

Love Like Poison By LYRXX
Slow and steady in his rise to stardom is none other than Nigerian singer-songwriter LYRXX with his sensational song ‘Love Like Poison.’ With a rhythm that makes you move your hips like in Samba and lyrics meant to make your heart melt to his soothing voice, this is the perfect start to your Valentine’s day. Just like most Afrobeats artists we’ve grown to adore, LYRXX sparked his entrance into the music scene through clever covers. You see, rather than singing the songs as they were meant to, he’d harmonize above the original vocals, making him stand out as not only a vocalist to watch for this 2026, but a talented one at best who can smoothen your heart to any song he touches.

Ifeoma By Ozedikus, CupidSZN, BoiGizmo
If you’re tired of listening to ‘Soweto,’ but need a song that evokes the same emotions, then ‘Ifeoma’ by Ozedikus, CupidSZN and BoiGizma is the right choice for you. Their pairing, and especially the vocalist on the first verse, it will have you close your eyes and hum along like nobody is around. It's simple in its structure and pleasing to the ears; however, maybe that is what you’re looking for, maybe this is what you’re into and ‘Soweto’ younger and newcomer brother is what you needed all along and we just confirmed it for you.

Milli II By Ir Sais & SO7ACE (feat. Jungeli & Victony)
It is safe to say that last December's releases went through a lot of people’s heads. First released in 2024, ‘Milli II’ comeback stands as strong and bold as ever. Not only is it the first time we catch Congolese-French Afropop singer Jungeli collaborating with a Nigerian singer, namely Victony. But also, it’s been a while since we heard of him, and how best to return to our playlists with a feature we didn’t know we needed yet? Just like fine wine, this song only gets better with time and it is a must have on our playlist this love season.

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Round & Round By Pa Salieu
Every listen, every bar he spits, it’s like there’s something new to uncover about the Gambian-Conventry star Pa Salieu and his 2024 love single ‘Round & Round.’ A master in lyricism and African love, this song you should have been bumping to every Valentine since its release will have you reflecting on the layers within yourself you didn’t even know you possessed. It is hard to say whether the honesty felt in his delivery or the heartfelt lyrics is what really carries the song away; however, one thing is clear; this tune is for a love like no other.

Iweriwe Love By Chella
If the boy Chella isn’t talking about Nyuash this season, then he must surely be unveiling his romantic affection in ‘Iweriwe Love.’ It has come to my attention that both tracks, if they do not at least share the same instrumental parent, then we must have gotten deaf. It is as if Chella had a longer version with both included and decided to separate them, each with their own elements of content. Nevertheless, this track is here to stay in our playlist– and so does Chella.

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Forévà By Tayc
If it is not the prince of French Afropop Tayc, most famously known for singing about love in its most vulnerable state, then what else will make you believe love is real? ‘Forévà’ is not your typical one of many romantic loves we see so often these days, au contraire, it is unconditional. If this is the vibe you’re on this Valentine day, then you may as well let this song play in the background as you get on one knee and propose to the love of your life. Let’s just say, Tayc did not disappoint, this song will literally be played forever…

Ruin By Usher & Pheelz
After a rainbow always comes the rain, and we did not forget about you if you're heartbroken this season. Like we said, this playlist is for everybody. That’s right, because even in the most beautiful time of the year, there’s always that one guy ready to bring out the sad violin and remind us all that heartbreak is just around the corner. Truly, ‘Ruin’ by Usher & Pheelz is a sweet reminder of the power that love possesses. And just like that reminder, your Valentine is felt with reflection, pondering, maybe regrets and a little bit of shoulder movements.

Please Don’t Fall in Love with me By Khalid
If the previous is the softer version of what you’re feeling and you need something stronger, then ‘Please Don’t Fall in Love’ by Khalid is just up your alley. Why give yourself a hug when you could be crying your eyes out, both hands on your knees and singing along to lyrics that cut deep, right? This is when the phrase; “May this love never find me” begins to sound like a prayer you must tell yourself every time you’re done listening to this song.

Melodrama By Theodora & Disiz
And then, maybe feeling is not what you’re looking for and you prefer to feel nothing at all. This is exactly how ‘Melodrama’ by Theodora & Disiz can be interpreted as you’re dancing around your living room aimlessly in your pajamas, wanting to forget Valentine’s day ever existed in the first place. This season would also not have felt special without you and this don’t-know-how-to-feel-about-this hit of a song is the perfect chaotic balance we didn’t forget to include on our been there list.

Soar By Aqyila
Last but not least, if you’re ready for healing this love season, then this may be the right song for you. ‘Soar’ by Aqyila sounds like a ballad of rediscovery as you let go of the past and let yourself transcend to a new dimension. Whatever left you broken, whatever had you confused, this song is the perfect way to spend your Valentine in a state of mine to heal through music.

So, what have we learned this love season? Whether emerging or established, let’s not sleep on those bangers ever again. Love may come and go, but Valentine’s Day is here to stay. Whatever ways you choose to spend this special time, may this playlist make you feel understood, seen and appreciated.

The year 2025 marked a definitive turning point for electronic dance music (EDM) and house music in Nigeria. No longer a niche subculture confined to the fringes of Lagos nightlife, the scene exploded into a vivacious industry, recording a staggering 403% growth in engagement and consumption. This electronic renaissance was fueled by a unique blend of indigenous sonic experimentation, the influx of global heavyweights, and, importantly, a dedicated ecosystem of collectives that prioritised community over commercialism.

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In 2025, the Nigerian house scene was defined by collectives. These groups acted as curators, safe spaces, and tastemakers, each carving out a distinct identity.

The rise of Group Therapy (GT) is one of the most significant case studies in the professionalisation and global scaling of the Nigerian electronic scene, or even any scene at all. Group Therapy started in 2023, and by 2025, it evolved from a series of niche underground gatherings into a cultural bridge for major global entries, including Boiler Room and Keep Hush. Under Aniko’s leadership, Group Therapy hosted the most impressive range of raves in 2025, from the impromptu “SMWR” editions in multi-storey car parks in Lagos Island to “KlubAniko” at the sophisticated Royal Box Centre in Victoria Island, and managed to maintain top quality across board. Group Therapy’s lineup for every 2025 edition paved the way for a more diverse roster of DJs – including many women, nonbinary, and intersex artists – to play prominent roles in the 2025 rave cycle. However, the collective's most significant achievement was the successful attraction of a record number of renowned international DJs to its Lagos-based editions.

As one of the longest-running house music residencies in Lagos, Element House (under the Spektrum banner, run by Ron and DelNoi) provided the necessary stability for the scene. Their monthly editions remained the "gold standard" for consistency. The 2025 rave calendar kicked off with a visually stunning Element House edition, courtesy of artist Bidemi Tata. This event marked the beginning of a sustained partnership between the organisers and the University of Lagos-trained artist. Throughout the rest of the year, they continued to collaborate with Bidemi Tata to refine their visual narrative, transforming each subsequent event into a sophisticated, high-concept, and fully immersive experience. In 2025, Element House achieved two significant milestones. Firstly, it solidified its position as the scene's "reliable giant," providing a predictable, safe, and carefully curated environment through its monthly residency. Secondly, Element House successfully cornered the economic power of the scene. By catering to a demographic of ravers who prioritised comfort over the raw atmosphere of a warehouse, they legitimised house music to corporate Nigeria. It is fair to claim that this appeal helped secure sponsorships that were out of reach for more underground rave events. The Element House lineup for every episode was also impressive, with them closing the year with a 2-hour Francis Mercier set. 

Monochroma Live started in 2024, and by 2025, they were already full throttle. The collective, spearheaded by Blak Dave and Proton and structurally backed by KVLT, approached nightlife with a simple philosophy: intentional, structured, and visually minimalist. This mindset was expressed through their signature monochrome aesthetic. Monochroma utilised the rhythmic familiarity of 3-Step to seamlessly convert normies into house enthusiasts, proving that the underground can grow without having to be clandestine, and without having to be diluted. This philosophy, coupled with the sonic direction of the Monochroma’s leaders, defined their 2025 programming and resulted in a year of cross-cultural convergence. 2025 on the Monochroma Live calendar culminated in the massive Dance Eko collaboration featuring Mörda, Blak Dave, JNR SA, Aniko, SoundsOfAce, and Earthsurfing, a finale that perfectly encapsulated Monochroma’s spirit.

In 2025, Sweat It Out solidified its standing as the raw, beating heart of the Nigerian underground, distinguishing itself by maintaining the gritty, industrial ethos of global rave culture. Under the sonic stewardship of resident headliner Sons of Ubuntu, the collective has kept the flame alive, curating sets that traverse the darker, more hypnotic corridors of Techno, Minimal Tech, and Acid House. The brand’s 2025 run reinforced its status as the scene's most vital safe space. Acknowledging the inherently queer roots of electronic dance music, Sweat It Out provided a rare, judgment-free sanctuary where gender expression and identity were not just tolerated but celebrated as essential to the technicolour vibrancy of the night. This commitment to inclusivity created a loyal following that prioritized the vibe over social hierarchy and/or buy-in. The year reached its apotheosis with "Sweat Therapy," a strategic year-end collaboration with Group Therapy. By closing 2025 with this unified front, Sweat It Out demonstrated that the underground remains undefeated, proving that a commitment to raw sound and radical safety is the strongest currency in the Lagos EDM scene.

While the major collectives dominated the headlines, the depth of the 2025 scene was defined by a constellation of parties that decentralised the culture and catered to specific communities. Leading this charge was Mainland House, which single-handedly dismantled the "Island-only" gatekeeping of Lagos nightlife. By planting the flag in different halls and production studios across the state, it offered a grittier, unpretentious alternative that tapped into the massive, underserved youth population of the Mainland, proving that the genre’s viability extended far beyond the elite coast. Simultaneously, Motion redefined the capital’s nightlife in Abuja. Far from being a shadow of Lagos, Motion carved out a distinct electronic identity, utilizing intimate spaces in the city’s capital to host rave experiences that currently sponsor FOMO and/or anticipation. In a bold expansion of the map, Red Light Fashion Room emerged as the avant-garde jewel of Ibadan, anchoring itself in the ancient city. A concept brought to life by Artpool Studios, Red Light Fashion Room created a unique hybrid that encouraged artistic expression via intentional grungy locations and the most original house rhythms, effectively modernizing the nightlife of the South-West beyond Lagos. 

On the thematic front, the scene offered beautifully specific niches that prioritized "vibe" over sheer scale. Ilé Ijó (The House of Dance) stayed true to its name, stripping away the pretension of "cool" to focus purely on the kinetics of the dancefloor; it became the safe haven for those who wanted the soulful, spiritual connection of house music. Sunday Service enjoyed a highly successful year, with several editions becoming so popular they had to be shut down due to overcrowding. The event continued with its characteristic evening-to-midnight timing, with only a few unavoidable exceptions. Its relaxed, "sundowner" atmosphere proved vital, offering an accessible alternative for casual listeners who found the intense 3 AM warehouse scene intimidating. House Arrest, curated by the Naija House Mafia, had a year marked by a series of high-concept themed editions that demanded total commitment — not just from the crowd, but from the selectors themselves. Seeing the DJs spin while fully costumed on theme dissolved the barrier between the booth and the dancefloor, turning every edition into a cohesive, immersive performance rather than just a party. The Group Collective carved out a unique niche with their destination rave model, mastering the art of beachside escapism. Their editions, typically hosted at Tarkwa Bay, transform the rave into a 24-hour, overnight camping experience that demands total immersion. Their rapid ascent was cemented by the recent V4 edition, which saw them bringing in South African heavy-hitter Jashmir, signaling that this intimate, sand-and-sound community has graduated from a localized campout into a serious player.

In 2025, the "silo" mentality died. The most memorable events or editions were those where two or more heavyweights merged rosters and aesthetics.
Group Therapy x Boiler Room was the definitive event of the year. It validated the Lagos scene on a global level. It happened on the 26th of April with a lineup that featured a mix of established veterans from Lagos and abroad, including AMÉMÉ, Aniko, IMJ, and a Weareallchemicals b2b with Yosa. WurlD delivered a surprise performance, joining AMÉMÉ on stage during their set, adding to the already impressive lineup.
Green Light Fashion Room took the scene by surprise. Group Therapy teamed up with Red Light Fashion Room, a blooming EDM outfit operating out of Ibadan, to throw this memorable one. Many people remember it as one of the best EDM nights to ever happen in Ibadan yet. The lineup was nothing short of impressive either – starring Abiodun, Aniko, QueDJ, An.D, and Weareallchemicals – making the event nothing short of a masterclass in logistics.

Spotify Greasy Tunes served as the year's intersection of big-tech backing and underground culture, marking a sophisticated pivot for the scene. Partnering with the culinary hotspot Fired & Iced, this launch event kicked off a month-long residency that seamlessly blurred the lines between a culinary pop-up, a highly informative formal yap session, and a high-energy rave. Curated by Group Therapy, the opening night offered an experience that was anchored by South African 3-Step pioneer Thakzin, whose second stint in NIgeria was supported by a stellar roster including Aniko, WeAreAllChemicals, RVTDJ, and FaeM, setting a high bar for the fusion of food, culture, and electronic music.

Dance Eko distinguished itself as a massive, open-air festival that dedicated distinct days to Amapiano and House music. The House edition, executed in strategic collaboration with Monochroma, transformed the venue into a high-octane, open-air rave. The lineup was a formidable bridge between nations, featuring South African icons Mörda, Jnr SA, and the reunited Distruction Boyz (Goldmax & Que DJ). Locally, the decks were commanded by Blak Dave, Proton, Aniko, Abiodun, and Naija House Mafia.

Sweat Therapy was a masterclass in energy management. These movements combined the curated, deep selections of Group Therapy with the high-octane rave delivery of Sweat It Out. The result was a marathon-style party that happened on two floors of the multi-storey car park at the Odeya Centre, with each floor having its own sound – the type of rave you see only in a John Wick movie.

The Global Influx: International Players in the 234
The 2025 electronic calendar began with an intensity that signaled a new era for Lagos as a global rave destination. The influx started early in February when 3-Step pioneer Thakzin headlined a rainy edition of Monochroma. His performance was a defining moment that introduced hours of unreleased material and effectively cemented the 3-Step sound as one of the year's dominant rhythms. This momentum carried into April with a well curated event produced by M.E. Entertainment at the Royal Box Event Centre. Keinemusik’s Rampa brought the Cloud sound to Nigeria in a massive production that featured support from Aniko and Blak Dave. The night bridged the gap between underground electronic music and mainstream pop culture with surprise stage appearances by Burna Boy and Olamide. By May, the energy shifted towards Gqom as heavyweight Dlala Thukzin made his Lagos debut at the Livespot Entertainment Centre. It was the eighth edition and it is still quite fresh in the hearts of afrohouse lovers. His Group Therapy set is the most-watched house music set recorded in Nigeria and hosted on YouTube.

As the year progressed into the second half, promoters executed a strategic rollout of international talent that expanded the scene's geographic footprint. September saw a split of the legendary Gqom duo Distruction Boyz before their eventual reunion. Que DJ headlined the Group Therapy Ibadan edition on September 5, and just a week later on September 12, his partner Goldmax took over the Monochroma decks in Lagos. Thakzin returned for his second visit of the year on October 1 to headline the Spotify Greasy Tunes opening party. This specific appearance focused less on the rave aesthetic and more on a lifestyle approach that bridged dining culture with house and kicked off a month of talks, performances, and dinners at the same venue.

The final quarter of the year became a relentless parade of global superstars during the "Detty December" festivities. The surge began on November 7 when Gqom technician Funky QLA headlined the tenth edition of Group Therapy at Livespot and continued the collective's dominance in importing high-energy South African sounds. Deep House royalty Francis Mercier arrived on December 18 to headline Element House and brought his melodic house sound to the city. Desiree touched down shortly after for a highly anticipated set that showcased her eclectic Afro techno fusion. The year reached a nostalgic peak when Que DJ and Goldmax finally united on stage as Distruction Boyz at the Dance Eko festival in late December. They delivered a futuristic Gqom set that stood out as a major highlight. The year closed on an intimate note as Dlala Thukzin returned to headline Klub Aniko.

Beyond the headline shows, several other key figures deepened the scene's texture through niche and endurance events. Jashmir headlined The Group Collective’s V4 beachside camping rave at Tarkwa Bay and tested the endurance of the 24-hour party crowd. Dankie Boi became a recurring fixture who played pivotal sets for both the Group Therapy Abuja expansion and Monochroma in Lagos. Meanwhile, Skeedoh, Abiodun, and Ogor ensured that Ilé Ijó continued to educate the scene on the fringes of African electronic music by maintaining a robust relationship with the East African underground. Ile Ijo championed the fast-paced Tanzanian Singeli sound pioneered by acts like Jay Mitta and ensured the Nigerian scene remained connected to the continent's rawest and most traditional electronic roots.

The Ecosystem: Platforms and Partners
The sustainability of the 2025 boom was underpinned by a rapidly professionalizing support system that ensured the culture was not just experienced, but structurally sound and amplified. Central to this operational evolution was Our House. Far more than just a promotional platform, Our House functioned as the scene’s logistical backbone. Under the stewardship of key figure Becky Ochulo, the agency provided the essential human resources, operational strategy, and on-ground management that allowed complex rave productions to run smoothly. Furthermore, they professionalized the talent pipeline, offering booking and management services that finally gave Nigerian electronic artists the representation needed to negotiate with global stakeholders.

On the media front, platforms like Nocturne Music and Oroko Radio acted as the scene’s digital nervous system. Oroko Radio, in particular, served as the definitive archive, broadcasting underground sets to a global audience and ensuring that the energy of a Lagos warehouse was felt by everyone who could tune in. Visually, the aesthetic of the "Nigerian Raver" was codified by documentarians like Catch The Gigs, Exponential Vibes, and Genuine Ravers. These platforms provided the scene’s visual dialect, capturing the fashion, the sweat, and the darkness in ways that made the culture instantly recognisable on social media feeds worldwide. Deeds Mag established itself as an indispensable lifestyle collaborator, effectively linking digital media presence with tangible cultural output. Beyond offering comprehensive media coverage for major events, such as the widely successful Nitefreak show, they became crucial in shaping the visual culture of the scene's growth. Their partnership extended to serving as the aesthetic designers, including the creation and production of exclusive merchandise for the GT on Tour series, guaranteeing that Group Therapy's visual identity remained high-end and consistent as the rave expanded to cities outside Lagos.

This heightened structural integrity inevitably attracted capital. Giants like Smirnoff and Coca-Cola became ubiquitous, providing support required to scale these events. However, the soul of the ecosystem remained with QuackTails. Unlike the multinational giants, QuackTails has been there for quite some time – almost as early as the very beginning – providing a sense of authenticity and familial support, proving that the scene still valued community partnership over mere commercial sponsorship.

Looking forward, 2025 marks the maturity of Nigerian electronic music into a self-sustaining industry with a distinct global footprint. The spread of the sound is being driven by the diaspora and digital platforms, successfully integrating Nigeria into the global electronic tour circuit. The economic implications are profound, creating thousands of new jobs in event production, sound engineering, and creative direction. Perhaps most importantly, it has granted producers a new form of creative freedom; they are now empowered to engineer anthems for the dancefloor, designed for physical release rather than airplay, proving that the genre has found its own independent commercial lane.

Yet, this renaissance is being built on fragile ground, and the challenges facing the scene are as potent as the music itself. The infrastructure gap remains the most glaring hurdle, with a desperate need for dedicated, sound-treated locations to replace the makeshift venues currently in use. This lack of infrastructure complicates safety; as raves push deep into the early morning hours, protecting attendees during transit and navigating the complexities of local policing remains a source of constant anxiety for organizers. Furthermore, the economics of the scene are still precarious. Despite the corporate logos, Nigerian EDM is still in its infancy, meaning that much of the current activity is a financial labor of love driven by passion rather than profit. Finally, the scene faces a significant cultural friction: the struggle for acceptance in a conservative society. Given the genre’s inherent roots in queer culture, there is an ongoing tension regarding perception and safety, forcing the community to navigate the delicate balance between radical inclusion inside the rave and the conservative realities outside its walls.

In 2025, Nigerian house music found its voice. It was a rhythmic conversation between the pulse of Lagos and the sweat of its wide-eyed, vivacious youth. We are witnessing a scene growing in leaps and bounds, a reality validated not just when our institutions plant their flags on foreign soil — manifested this year in the successful exports of Group Therapy Accra and Group Therapy London — but in the undeniable global demand for our talent. The sound is now a veritable currency, evidenced by Blak Dave securing bookings around the world and Aniko’s monumental inclusion on the ADE lineup. At the same time, she and WeAreAllChemicals have become staples on major festival stages across Africa. We owe this current expansion to years of grassroots effort. For example, Dayo’s work with The Group Collective’s V4 effectively redefined the nexus of lifestyle, local camping, and EDM. At the same time, Lazio has solidified his reputation as the premier sound engineer for the electronic community and, effectively, the silent partner behind every major sonic activation. The movement has become truly boundless, stretching far beyond Lagos to unlikely frontiers like Calabar, where Kuffy Eyo’s Nocturna is pioneering a new consciousness in Nigeria’s geopolitical South-South. Through the support of these symbiotic microcosms, the Nigerian rave has graduated from a local secret to a viable cultural product. 2025 rolled into 2026 as the Sunday Service crowd crossed over at Lighthouse Bar and Grill, and one thing was clear: everyone is eager to see what 2026 holds for tinko-tinko music.

When Odeal arrives on set, it is a cold day in November in London. Despite the overcast weather, there is an energy throughout the day that brings excitement in the air. As someone who has had a fairly active year, he has a calmness that makes the 6-hour day run smoothly and painlessly. With various movements underway and people doing what needs to be done, he maintains an aura of readiness to do whatever is required. As we move through the day, he keeps the energy and vibe up until we wrap up for the dark evenings of a November night, showing his gratitude and appreciation for everyone on the team. Our conversation, which takes place a few weeks after the shoot, only echoes that vibe as we speak over Zoom. Having previously interviewed him around the release of his 2023 EP Thoughts I Never Said, this Odeal is on the move now, currently in Dubai. Yet as the conversations unfold, the essence of the artist I spoke to two years ago remains the same, even though he is in a different place in his life. 

With all the changes since our first meeting, there is a lot to unpack. As he has grown personally and artistically, his confidence and elevation have come through across the board. He still maintains the same level of vulnerability, which has always come through in his music. Yet from the time between Thoughts I Never Said, Sunday’s At Zuri, Lustropolis and the two projects he released in the past year it feels like he has continuously grown deeper within himself and his vulnerabilities he continues to display in a way that has brought him to his current place where I once again meet him on his journey.  

Since his debut in 2017, his musical style has evolved, cementing him as one of the freshest voices in the music landscape. With all that he has achieved throughout the course of his career so far, Odeal is an artist who is at the centre of the current R&B landscape a the moment. The likes of Lustropolois and his most recent works, The Summer That Saved Me and The Fall That Saved Us, have showcased the richness of his storytelling and his ability to do so through strong production, smooth melodies, and compelling lyrical content. It is his openness and vulnerabilities that have always come across so smoothly, really showcasing him as an artist who continues to put his own stamp on the genre. 

We caught Odeal as he wrapped up a busy year. Just before closing out the year in South Africa and Nigeria, he took the time to come through and deliver a shoot that reflects his position as a cultivator in the R&B landscape. His year began with two Mobo Awards wins and was filled with shows that took him around the world, a Tiny Desk debut, and the release of two EPs. There is no doubt that all these experiences have been the result of years in the making.“For many people, it feels like it happened quickly, but I've been doing this for a long time. There is so much I've got to learn, and I've got so much to give,” Odeal shares with me as we discuss his global breakthrough and what the last few years have felt like.

Whilst on set, The Fall That Saved Us plays as one of the soundtracks as we shoot the final setup of the day. “Reason”, which features LA singer and producer Elijah Fox, opens the album and introduces a sound that is already vastly different from his previous offering. The second of two EPs brings in a darker, moodier tone that runs throughout. “The Fall That Saved Us was more like summer's afterglow. What are the things that still linger in your mind? What are the things that have been left behind, that remain in the back of your head? That's really what it was for me once everything's done, once the party's over. How do you feel? That's really what I wanted to explore on this project.” He shares his thoughts on the tone of this EP compared with its summer counterpart, released earlier this year. Whilst it feels like we have left the emotions of summer, this particular body of work echoes 2024’s Lustropolis in tone and feels like a distant echo of that body of work. In the Lustropolis state of mind, we have all been too familiar with The Fall That Saved Us; it feels like something from that world.
In comparison, The Summer That Saved Me departs from that mindset. Starting with “Miami”, which brings one into a completely different reality, readies an alternative reality. This was something Odeal felt necessary following the tone set from Lustropolis “The Summer That Saved Me was a project that I wanted for the summer, for people to leave that Lustropolis place and just celebrate, enjoy themselves, be selfish. That was the soundscape for me, that's what created that.” 

The two projects perfectly show the extent of his creativity, yet they tie together to explore the range of emotions and experiences he brings to his music. “I make music for myself a lot of the time. I'm always making music I want to listen to, and I'll keep listening to it throughout the seasons I’m in,” he says about the process that informs his ability to create music that feels so relatable and goes deeper than just good melodies and rhythms. “Some songs resonate on some days; some don't on others. As I live my life, different feelings pass; some do not pertain to my current situation. And other songs become the soundtrack to my day.” His creative process has always been informed by whatever situation he find himself in and this is something he has continuously been able to pour into his music whatever the topic, whatever the feeling created a body of work that is rooted in a deep truth and authenticity that can lacking in the musical landscape of today and is just one thing that has been able to set him apart as an artist. 

Odeal’s creativity has always extended beyond musical releases. As a cultivator, he has built more than just a fanbase around his music; he has also created a strong community that is strong and has grown beyond artist and fan. The creation of OVMBR, which began as a celebration reminder after he faced an illness, has become a movement. As a collective of artists and creatives, it has hosted community-led events and parties over the years at various locations. It is a space that fosters a community of fans and creatives and celebrates individuality, resilience, and diverse experiences that strengthen the collective. The celebration and growth of his work have always been part of Odeals' creative vision and have developed alongside his artistic career.  In its seventh year, its impact and significance have been evident throughout the year. “OVMBR was something that started as something I wanted to give to my fans. I was ill and wanted to see my fans. I wanted to see my fanbase in one place, listening to the music I liked, sharing the music they liked. I wanted to be a way of connecting,” he shares about its conception, which became another pillar that has been marked by the love and shared community that he has been able to foster throughout the years. 

Travel has always been a big part of Odeal’s life, from the years he spent growing up between Germany, Spain, the UK, and Nigeria. It is no wonder that when you listen to music, you feel a sense of unity. Whilst a core of R&B infuses his melodies and lyrical tones, beyond that, soundscapes from various global destinations are also evident. This ability to infuse, blend, and bring together sounds from around the world while maintaining his signature storytelling has allowed Odeal to flourish. 
Not only has it shaped his life and experiences, but it has also been a major part of his creative process and of how his music relates to people around the world.I am interested in how he continues to grow and develop his sound globally as he reaches new destinations and incorporates diverse sounds into his music. “The way life has opened doors to creatives around the world, allowing me to collaborate with them now, is a blessing. I can go to different places and find different vibes, inspiration, and access information on a personal level. It definitely fuels the creative.” He says that it is part of his process. However, on the other hand, when it comes to creating, he always has a fan base and people he can reach all over the world. “Having supporters in different places around the world makes the music more relatable. I know that whatever I make will resonate in a certain place.” He shares about what it feels like to go around the world and see how different people respond to his music. “If I make this song, it's going to resonate in this city or this place. I have people all around the world who are ready to listen. They're literally everywhere, and just knowing that you have a wide fan base means I can go anywhere and become like a citizen of the world,” which is something he has been able to experience firsthand in relation to his music career. As he prepares to embark on his upcoming tour, The Shows That Saved Us, which will take him across the UK and Europe before opening for Summer Walker on her Still Finally Over It Arena World tour. 

Odeal is no doubt in a special time in his career. With many miles to go and many avenues still to reach, there is a lot more to him to explore and delve into when it comes to the depth of his creativity. With the release of his Apartment Life set, we saw him tapping into a different part of himself as a DJ, which is something I must address, having heard his set not knowing it was him and which I 100% recommend. “In everything I do, I need to respect the people who came before me and those who are doing it very well. When it comes to DJing, I don't want to do it just because I’m an artist. I actually want to pay homage to the people who really do this properly,” he says of what fostered his interest in the format and how he has actually been building the skill within himself. When pressed about whether we will see more of this newfound skill and talent on display, there is definitely more on the horizon. “People will definitely be seeing more of that, infused with my production, not just playing other people's records or introducing other people to records, but also things like unreleased music I've produced. That's going to be some stuff I do.” 

There is an excitement about everything that is on the horizon for Odeal, and now he really feels like his moment to take everything in and go with it. Beyond what we discussed, he has a limitless mindset about what he aspires to do and achieve in his career. Having reached him at this point in his career, we were able to capture a special moment. Seeing where he is now from the time of our last conversation, I wonder where I will next find him on his journey. 

Our Favourite New Mashups So Far
If one were to best explain the surge of R&B music in recent years, this phenomena could be traced back to the current state of rap. Although the two genres were forged from different roots, historically speaking, these separate sonic worlds always intertwined. And as the once-dominant gangsta appeal that is prominent in rap is slowly dismantling and fading away, it leaves room for softer sounds and love anthems to flood down our headphones once again. It is all in the air wherever you look at; love season has finally returned and this is our favourite picks that have dropped this year so far.

Raindance - Dave & Tems
Is it just us or is it getting hot in here? Perhaps the duo that instantly drew us in this year is none other than Nigerian sweetheart Tems and London rapper Dave, whose No.1 chart-topping track ‘Raindance’ has a special replay button on our playlists. While the collaboration was first unveiled in November along with Dave’s latest album, it was the Lagos-shot music video released in January that really won us over and sealed the deal. It’s a dance anthem, it’s a love anthem, it is everything in between–open to interpretation by music listeners and wandering ears alike. Everyone on the internet is dancing to this song, and it seems like rumours swirling around the pair have us believing in love again.

STAY HERE 4 LIFE - A$AP Rocky Feat. Brent Faiyaz
We can all agree that almost 10 years of absence by Harlem’s finest A$AP Rocky was worth every second of the wait. And perhaps he might have accidentally ignited a comeback from R&B singer Brent Faiyaz as well, serving us everything our hearts could desire on a silver platter with ‘STAY HERE 4 LIFE.’ Now we can see why Rocky, aside from father duties, took his sweet time; he was aiming for a swaggy track coupled with harmonizing vocals that babies can be made to.

Nights In The Sun - Odeal Feat. Wizkid
There’s nothing like returning back overseas, on the plane reminiscing about detty December in Lagos, while ‘Nights In The Sun’ by Afro-fusion artist Odeal featuring Nigerian’s starboy Wizkid is playing in the background. Of course, we would know nothing about such; however, this is as far as where the track takes us. And through the carefully-crafted visuals that dropped in January, it only felt as though the feeling was amplified. At this point, Odeal has no misses in his reinvention through R&B eclectic takes. 

wyd - Plaqueboymax & Bryson Tiller 
Last but not least, on a surprising release by Streamer, producer and now emerging rapper Plaqueboymax, the young online personality really shook us to the core with Bryson Tiller on ‘wyd.’ While he is still trying to balance life in pursuit of a newly-found passion, in his first single of the year, Plaqueboymax offers a vulnerable side to him that he had not yet displayed, both online and sonically. The lyrics are raw, the music video featuring rumoured new fling Keke Palmer is steamy, and Bryson has the ability to create the perfect atmosphere of melodies into the ensemble.

When people talk about Salsa, it’s often framed as something light, music for dance floors, glossy ballroom lessons, a genre boxed neatly into “Latin”. But sitting with it long enough, really listening and researching, you begin to realize that Salsa is anything but light. It is heavy with memory. It carries the weight of oceans crossed in chains, of languages stolen, of bodies displaced, and of cultures that refused to disappear. To engage Salsa during Black History Month is to confront it deeply as evidence that African culture survived the most violent rupture in modern history and found ways to speak again—through rhythm, through movement, through sound. Salsa is neither a New York invention in the shallow sense, nor is it solely Cuban, Puerto Rican, or Caribbean. It is diasporic. It belongs to the long, unfinished story of Black survival across the Atlantic world.

Long before the word “Salsa” existed, before the Caribbean was even imagined as a destination, rhythm already governed life in West and Central Africa. Among the Yoruba and Bantu peoples, music was not separate from the spiritual or the social. Drums were communicative. They marked births, deaths, harvests, war, and prayer. Rhythm held time itself. When Africans were captured and transported across the ocean, colonial systems worked tirelessly to sever them from this world, to rename them, convert them and silence them. But rhythm is not something you can confiscate. It lives in the body. It survives in muscle memory, in breath more so in instinct. That survival is most clearly heard in the clave. The clave is the governing logic of Salsa. It dictates when a phrase can begin, when it must resolve, and when it should wait. Its five-beat structure mirrors West African bell patterns used in sacred ceremonies, and its persistence is a quiet show of resistance. Even when enslaved Africans were banned from drumming outright, the rhythmic sensibility remained, finding new ways to surface.

In Cuba, this resistance took on spiritual dimensions. African religions were forced underground, masked behind Catholic iconography. Orishas were renamed as saints. Ceremonies were hidden in plain sight. Batá drumming, deeply sacred and African, continued under the watchful eyes of colonial power. Over time, what was once purely ritual began to bleed into the secular world. Rumba emerged. Social drumming took shape. The line between the sacred and the everyday blurred, but the African heartbeat never left. What followed in the Caribbean was more collision. Africa met Europe, and both met the Indigenous peoples of the islands. This was but a collaboration that was forged under violence—but culture, stubborn and adaptive, found a way forward. African percussion formed the base. Spanish colonizers contributed harmonic structures, string instruments, and poetic forms. And then there were the Taíno, often written out of history, whose instruments, the güiro and maracas—added texture and sharpness to the sound. Their presence lingers in every scrape and shake. Out of this collision came Son Cubano. In many ways, Son is the DNA of Salsa. African rhythm carried Spanish melody, grounded by Indigenous instrumentation. It was rural, communal, and portable. It belonged to the people, not the elite. And for a time, it traveled freely, moving from Cuba to New York, from Havana to Harlem, shaping and being shaped by jazz musicians, dancers, and migrants chasing possibility.

Then politics intervened, the Cuban Revolution and the subsequent U.S. embargo severed a cultural artery. Records stopped arriving. Musicians stopped traveling. The constant dialogue between Cuba and New York was abruptly cut, what’s fascinating is what happened next. In Cuba, music evolved inward, becoming more technical, more complex, more insulated. In New York, absence created urgency. Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, and African Americans inherited an older tradition and were forced to make it speak to their reality.

This is where Salsa truly crystallized. In the barrios of New York, the music absorbed the pressure of city life—the poverty, the racial tension, the pride, the anger, the joy. It learned from jazz. It borrowed from soul. It reflected the sound of sirens, crowded apartments, and survival in a city that often had no room for Black and Brown bodies. So when the term “Salsa” was popularized, it wasn’t just a branding decision; it was a declaration. This music was plural. Mixed. Spicy. Impossible to reduce to one nation or one story. And the stories it told were no longer abstract. They were deeply personal. They spoke of displacement, of identity, of being Afro-Latino in a country that rarely made space for complexity. Artists like Celia Cruz, Héctor Lavoe, Eddie Palmieri, and Johnny Pacheco testified to this with their music, their art carried humor, heartbreak, spirituality and street-level realism. It made people dance, yes, but it also made them feel seen.

Listening to Salsa closely, you begin to hear layers speaking to each other across centuries. The conga echoes Central Africa. The clave remembers Yoruba cosmology. The güiro whispers Taíno survival. The horn sections reflect Black American jazz traditions shaped in Harlem and beyond. Nothing in Salsa exists in isolation. Every sound is an inheritance. That is why Salsa belongs firmly within Black history. Not as a footnote or as a “Latin” aside, but as a living archive of the African diaspora. It reminds us that culture does not disappear when borders close or when names change. It mutates,  adapts and often finds new homes in new cities and speaks in new accents.

What we call Salsa today is really a long conversation between generations who were denied the right to speak freely, yet found ways to talk through sound. This is why it refuses to sit still in one place or belong to one flag. It is African without being frozen in Africa. Caribbean without being contained by the islands. American without surrendering its soul. It exists in motion, the same way the diaspora does—constantly negotiating identity, carrying fragments of home, inventing new ones along the way. Salsa endures because the people who created it endured. And as long as the rhythm continues, on dance floors, in barrios, in living rooms, and in new cities yet to claim it—the story of Black survival will keep finding new ways to be heard.

In the aftermath of Tyla’s Grammy win in the Best African music category this Sunday, social media has been flooded with impassioned commentary, mostly from indignant Nigerians, who have largely cast the whole affair as a slight against nominated acts from the country. Popular Nigerian OAP Osi Suave, by way of a sporadic series of starry-eyed tweets, has decried a perceived Grammy bias against Nigerian music, writing: “Eventually, we get a category at the Grammy that is dedicated to us as Africans. Then we, as Nigerians who make the biggest hits on the continent, get stomped out year after year. What hurts is that we, as Nigerians, accept music from everywhere.” 

Never mind that Tems won the award last year for Love Me Jeje; several Nigerian music professionals and enthusiasts have echoed Osi Suave’s sentiments. By way of a meandering monologue, legendary Nigerian musician Cobhams Asuquo insinuated that the Grammys are using Nigerians to boost the GDP of Los Angeles. “It’s like a carrot dangling in front of us and it goes away,” he said. Many have blithely dismissed these criticisms as just another sign of the “main character syndrome” Nigerians tend to exude. But I suggest they gesture at something deeper: Nigerians' age-old desire for greater representation at the Grammys and a fundamental misunderstanding of the scope and mechanics of the Best African Music Performance category.

Nigeria’s history with near wins at the Grammys stretches back to the days of stalwarts like King Sunny Ade and Fela Anikulapo Kuti, whose nominations stirred excitement around the country, which was ultimately flattened when they lost out to other contenders. This notwithstanding, the Grammy Awards have held a singular fascination for Nigerian musicians. In the intervening years, Nigerian artists, such as 9ice, a propulsive pop sensation in the aughts, would wistfully invoke dreams of winning the awards in their music. But while these lofty dreams of Grammy wins made for interesting lyrics—who doesn’t relish the musings of a big dreamer—they remained pipe dreams, for the most part.

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All of this would start to change around 2019 when the Afrobeats to the World Movement seemed to be approaching a fever pitch. Wizkid’s flirtations with a softer variety of Afropop had long vaulted him to global acclaim, Davido was still fresh off the momentum he had garnered with songs like If and Fall, which became global sensations in 2018, and by the next year, 2019, Burna Boy would increasingly become a force not just within Africa but around the world, on account of his seminal album African Giant, which embodied the Nigerian zeitgeist in a way few albums had done before. 

Everywhere one turned, Nigerian artists seemed to be breaking barriers and hitting new milestones. And so when Burna Boy’s African Giant received the Grammy nod later that year, in the Best Global Music Album category, it felt as though the stars had finally aligned for Nigeria’s ascendancy on the elusive Grammy stage.

On the night of the 62nd Grammy Awards, Nigerians of all musical persuasions rallied behind Burna Boy—a win for him was a win for the culture. Surely, he would win. Not only had he made a cohesive and compelling album, but he had also toured the world with the project, earning significant commercial acclaim. He ultimately lost to Beninise musical legend Angelique Kidjo, much to the chagrin of Nigerians and Burna Boy himself (in a subsequent project he sings candidly about how intensely the loss affected him.) 

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And while Burna Boy would perform a heroic comeback the following year, winning in the same category with Twice as Tall, the incident left Nigerians with a deep malaise that would only intensify after Wizkid’s loss in the Best Global Music Album category, and when Rema’s Calm Down and its remix were snubbed in the 2023 and 2024 Grammys even though the songs were eligible for nominations in those years.

In the wake of the disaffection stirred by Wizkid’s Grammy loss in 2022, Grammy CEO Harvey Mason Jr made three trips to Africa, speaking with local community leaders and stakeholders all across the African music landscape. This culminated in the Best African Music Performance category, ostensibly created to give better representation to African Music—which really is corporate speak for “making it easier for African acts to win and hopefully reducing the amount of outrage that invariably came from Africa year on year.” 

Many Nigerians however interpreted the new category as a tacit nod to Afrobeats’ ascendancy on the global stage and expected Nigerian artists to cruise to the win every year. This hasn't quite panned out. Since 2024 when the category was inaugurated a Nigerian act has won it just once: Tems last year. Tyla has won it the other two times. 

For now, Tyla seems to be a receptacle for Nigerian indignation, but I suspect this has more to do with the fact that many Nigerians either misunderstand the category’s scope as extending solely to Afrobeats or view it as the birthright of Nigerian artists. How else can one rationalize the constant uproar every time someone from another nationality wins in the category? A tweet I came across perfectly encapsulates this entitlement. “Tyla is the weapon fashioned against Nigerian artists,” it reads. 

Some have said their anger stems from Push 2 Start not fitting the parameters of the category. They claim it’s more of a Pop song and should have been nominated in the main Pop category. But this argument falls apart upon closer scrutiny. While Tyla often makes songs that feel more Pop than Afro-leaning, Push 2 Start, which earned her the win, is as African as it gets. The song is primarily delivered in English, but the melodies are pointedly inspired by Highlife, the drums are African and bounce has a Caribbean flavor. 

Another argument that has gained traction despite its obvious dishonesty is that the song, to borrow Osi Suave’s words, “was a non-starter, didn't even make any impact or go anywhere.” In reality, with nearly 500 million streams on Spotify alone, the song is by far the most commercially successful of the nominees. For context, the second most-streamed of the lot, Davido’s With You, has garnered just over 100 million Spotify streams. Push 2 Start is also the only nominated song in the category to make an appearance in the Billboard Hot 100 chart. 

Many Nigerians have fiercely heralded Tyla’s win as a snub to Nigerian artists. The reality however is that this line of thinking betrays a problematic and narrow-minded view of African music. It’s beyond important to stress that the award is neither the exclusive preserve of Afrobeats nor Nigerian artists. If a Nigerian artist had earned the level of success that Push 2 Start, a brilliant Afropop composition, has earned and still lost out on the award, the level of outrage would be monumental—as it should be. Beyond commercial success and the convoluted politics that attends the Grammys Tyla deserved to win because she’s African and has as much of a claim to the award as anyone else. 

In the rhythmic lexicon of West Africa, "Jigi Jigi" is more than just a phrase; it is an imperative. Translating directly to "move" or "dance," it serves as the heartbeat of Juls’ latest project. It is an onomatopoeic nudge, a rhythmic command that bypasses the cerebral and heads straight for the hips. By naming the EP Jigi Jigi Vol 1, the British-Ghanaian producer sets a clear intention: this is music designed to break the stillness, urging a physical and spiritual response to a global sound that refuses to stay in one place. For the better part of a decade, Juls has been the silent architect of the "Afrobeats" explosion. But as the genre became a global commodity often polished and flattened for Western pop sensibilities, the British-Ghanaian producer began a slow, deliberate retreat into the archives. On his latest EP, Jigi Jigi Vol. 1, Juls stops looking for the "next" sound and starts looking for the only sound, the one that existed before borders. This EP is an intricate, percussion-led tapestry that argues for the shared DNA of the Black Atlantic, stitching together Latin grooves, Caribbean swing, and African soul into a singular, breathable fabric. By removing the reliance on superstar vocalists and letting the instrumentation lead, Juls forces the listener to engage with the history of the sound. He is teaching us that the evolution of music isn't about finding something "new," but about remembering where the pieces originally fit together.

Jazz In The Air opens the project with a literal "sense of release." Juls fills the silence with a sophisticated dialogue between improvised Jazz and traditional Afro-drum. The piano chords aren't just background noise; they provide a melodic ceiling that allows the sharp, rhythmic kicks to drive the energy forward. It is incredibly calming, yet it possesses an underlying kineticism that feels like a sunset dance on a rooftop in Accra. If the EP has a spiritual headquarters, it is Roots. It begins with a sobering manifesto: a call for African unity, an end to the hyper-competition birthed by colonial structures, and a return to collaboration. Once the message settles, the music erupts into a vibrant display of Ghanaian heritage. The interplay of Ga drums and the Atenteben (bamboo flute) creates a texture rarely heard in modern commercial music. The Highlife melodies act as a tether to the 1960s, while the upbeat kicks remind us that the heart of this sound is still very much beating in the present.

Kokrobite Blues, interestingly named after the legendary Ghanaian surfing and drumming village lives up to the heritage. It synthesizes the Blues, the music of the diaspora’s struggle. The trumpets here are the standout, wailing with a soulful clarity that bridges the gap between a New Orleans funeral march and a West African celebration. On Mi Morena, Juls leans heavily into his Latin-Caribbean curiosities here. This is Salsa re-imagined through an Afrobeats lens. The syncopation is tighter, the percussion is crisp, and the "swing" feels distinctly Afro-Latino. 

Capoeira Riddim featuring Ezra Skys, shifts the energy toward Brazil. Inspired by the Afro-Brazilian martial art, this track is a percussive masterclass. It utilizes the raw, physical energy of House music but strips away the synthetic gloss, replacing it with the organic rattle and thrum of street-level percussion. It is a rhythmic workout that fuses House energy with the raw power of Brazilian street culture.The journey concludes on 3AM In Kaapstad featuring Xivo. This is a "nocturnal" track, blending the sophisticated textures of Cape Jazz with the deep, atmospheric Amapiano. It feels like a liminal space, the quiet hour before dawn where all these different sounds finally settle into a singular, unified hum. It's very much introspective and unresolved in the best way. It’s the sound of disparate histories finally settling into a shared frequency.

Jigi Jigi Vol. 1 operates  as a study in musical lineage. Juls approaches rhythm as inherited knowledge, something carried, reshaped, and reintroduced rather than endlessly reinvented. By centering percussion, melody, and spatial arrangement over vocal dominance, he creates room for the listener to hear the architecture of the music itself: the echoes of Highlife, Jazz, Blues, Afro-Latin and Afro-Brazilian traditions speaking across time and geography. The project demands physical response, but it also invites historical awareness, asking the listener to recognize how these sounds converse with one another beneath the surface. In doing so, Juls quietly asserts a broader vision of global Black music, one rooted in movement, memory, and continuity, positioning Jigi Jigi Vol. 1 not as a final statement, but as a living framework for what comes next.

Jeleel’s name may ring a bell if you’ve heard his signature tag, Jeleel, yeaaah!, repeating in his tracks. Since his 2021 TikTok hit “DIVE IN,” he’s pursued a musical journey beyond viral trends.

For the Nigerian-American artist, music has always been a part of his life. After shifting from dreams of being an athlete, his music path allowed him to fulfil his calling. His introduction to the scene took him from fiery, Playboi Carti-esque sounds to something that has grown and developed over the years. Meeting Jeleel in 2026 feels like meeting a new artist, especially if you’re new to his music. After his 2025 album NYASH WORLDWIDE!, his latest single HELLCAT! fuses Malian sounds with his style. This new music marks a fresh direction and shows he no longer wants to limit his sound.

As a creative, his talents reach beyond music. In recent years, we have seen him embrace fashion and take a distinct stance in his expression. Inspired by his love for the world and his varied experiences during this period, this next chapter in Jeleel’s journey looks to be his most promising yet.

To start with your background, can you share how music first became part of your life, and what prompted you to make it your career?
I've always listened to music differently from most people, even in commercials and other places. Whenever I would hear music, I would remember the melodies. It was just something I always hung on to. At first, I thought my path was athletics. I'm very athletic and strong, so I assumed that's what God wanted for me. But every time I tried, it just wouldn't work out. It wasn’t until my friend heard me singing a song. He said, 'I have a beautiful voice, and you should try making a song.' The moment I tried, it just felt like I found my purpose. My heart opened up. This was the fulfilment of what I'm here to do.

Building on that, was there a specific moment where you realised music was your path?
I was trying to pursue athletics, but every time I did, it didn't work out. But as soon as I started pursuing music, things began to happen. Making music wasn't difficult. My friend owned a studio, so I could just go there and make music. Even though I was moving to LA homeless, not knowing anybody, and still figuring things out, people let me record. Why is it easy for me to make music but not to play sports? I think God was giving me a sign to focus here.

Continuing on your journey, how did you discover your unique sound and the type of music you wanted to make?
I've always felt worldly. As a Nigerian growing up in the US. I visited the UK since I was very young I and so I was exposed to a lot of music. When I was growing up, I listened to early Afro like D’Banj, Terry G, and 2Baba. At 10, I went to the UK and heard Skepta for the first time. Watching Disney Channel and Nickelodeon, and hearing punk bands like Sum 41 on TV, influenced me. Even as a Muslim, when we recite the Quran or surahs, we use melodies. Hearing others recite and me reciting as well, like Sura, may have helped my musical ear. It’s a bunch of influences, all mixed together. That’s Jeleel.

Reflecting on your influences and evolution since you started, how would you describe your current sound to someone now? How does it compare to your early material?
Now my music is worldly, for anyone in the world. People of all ages can dance to it. People in America, Nigeria, Mali, India, and Brazil can listen. You can't put it in a box. The music I first blew up with, like ‘Dive In’ and ‘Jeleel Juice,’ was focused on a specific niche. That was more like a Playboy Carti, Trippie Redd type of vibe.

As your sound has evolved and with new music on the horizon, how do you continue developing your process while staying true to yourself?
Each day, as I put everything together, I feel ready to break the sound barrier and create something new. In the studio, I experiment, putting an electric guitar on an afrobeat or adding a flute over distortion. I push the sound as far as I can, mixing genres to make something truly new.

Your artistic expression stands out as bold and visual. How does this willingness to experiment translate into areas beyond music, such as fashion?
Fashion-wise, I’ve always loved the early 2000s. As a '90s baby, I liked Y2K era style and creative direction, and I want to show that in my world, too.

Speaking of fashion, who are some of your favourite fashion brands?
I love Diesel, DSquared, and Chanel. There's this brand called Blue Marine. I like their stuff too. I love all these brands. Gucci is hard, too.

When it comes to fashion, what excites you about expressing yourself through style, and how do you stay inspired to continue?
I know what I like despite trends, I always make sure I look good in what I wear, since I work out a lot. I don't follow every fashion change or trend. I stick to what works for me. I check my Pinterest boards to see what might fit me well.

Turning to your music, your latest single HELLCAT! differs from previous work. Can you tell us about this release?
I love Malian and global music and want to add those influences to my music. I'm experimenting with new ideas. This year, I want to push boundaries by mixing first-rage sound with my current style. I believe I can do it and want to combine the two.

With this new era in your music, how do you feel about your career and what's ahead for you with these new directions?
I'm an independent artist. I'm not signed to a label. I don't have a budget behind me. For me, I'm super happy and super blessed. But sometimes I'm like, because I blew my music up on TikTok from all the posts, it's finally happening. Damn, it took that long, but I'm super blessed. I'm happy people are listening. I want the whole world to listen. I want the whole world to know who Jeleel is.

Looking back at how you started on social media, what has helped you build on that early momentum and continue growing your career?
It comes down to the music. If it's good and touches hearts, it lasts. What's real endures. The music has to connect, be good, and evolve. A lot of current music makes people realise that some sounds' time is coming to an end, so they want something new. Music is becoming more global. Not everyone listens to hip hop now. Instagram allows people in India and Thailand to connect with Nigerian artists. People listen to Amapiano and other genres and mix styles. As an artist, you have to find your identity and realise the music clock is short. You have to know when to evolve.

Given your genre-blending ability and the shifts in music, how have these changes influenced your career and musical direction?
At one point, hip hop was the biggest genre in the world. Right now, there hasn't been a hip hop song on Billboard Top 100 in the past year. Hip hop is starting to fade, unless someone revives it. Most artists blowing up in hip-hop now are outside the US. Enough. Hip hop is one of the greatest genres ever. I grew up on hip hop. The world isn't becoming one thing. I made rage music and drew that crowd, then moved to make music for a more worldly crowd that includes more women. That's not easy. A lot of artists can't do that. But that's what the world is becoming.

As the new year begins, how do you feel about your current projects and your music more broadly?
I'm happy, I'm happy that people are starting to wake up, that I'm doing what I can, and that people are enjoying my music, so it feels good. The album is on the way, so I’m excited for people to hear everything I am working on.

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What does it take to turn heartbreak into art? For Cosamote, it requires thirteen songs, eleven voices, and an accompanying novel. With their debut album "Files '26," the Nigerian collective delivers thirteen tracks that feel like a mission statement wrapped in nostalgia. Executive produced by Oke “Emaxee” Emmanuel and Oluwatobi Gabriel Baruwa, the project brings together eleven artists including Caleb Clay, Fimi, Musta4a, Creen Caesar, Adebaby, and Tiwi, to craft something that feels both communal and deeply personal. 

Cosamote is a Nigerian creative collective and marketing agency that has become a hub for emerging talent, bridging Afrofusion, R&B, into a unified sound. Oke “Emaxee” Emmanuel serves as the collective’s creative director, bringing his expertise in marketing and artist development to shape the group’s vision and projects. "Files '26" released via ONErpm last Friday, marks the collective's first major statement, positioning them within Nigeria's growing community of artist collectives focused on collaborative projects, connecting diverse talents and redefining how stories are told through sounds and words.

From the start, “Files ’26” feels like an introspective project, uninterested in chasing radio hits. Rather, it exists within its own creative world, lush, nostalgic, and textured, drawing inspiration from early 2000s R&B warmth while blending modern Afrofusion production rooted in present-day Lagos.

Conceptually, the album unfolds like a relationship timeline, from attraction to desire, conflict, confusion, and eventual reflection. The album artwork, designed by Kay the Animator, introduces Uloma, the protagonist of  “A Portrait of A Typical People,” a follow-up novel by Michelle Ejiro. It’s a bold framework that could have easily been overreached, but Cosamote executes it with remarkable cohesion.

“Consistency,” featuring Caleb Clay and Jamz FR, opens the album on a note of devotion and longing. Their voices intertwine over Aykbeats’ minimal arrangement, setting the emotional template, vulnerability expressed through restraint. The title itself signals what the opening phase of relationships demands: showing up, being present, maintaining effort. “One + One” follows, pairing Musta4a, and Fimi over Trijay’s bright production, a breezy meditation on new love and shared rhythm. The chemistry between the two vocalists feels genuine. It's the kind of track that makes relationship optimism feel justified.

Things heat up on “Set The Fire,” with Musta4a, Suurshi, and Fimi trading harmonies over Zyrx’s layered instrumentation. It’s sensual, immersive, and a reminder of how quickly passion can blur clarity. The tension shifts on “Company,” where Creen Caesar and Caleb Clay explore nostalgia and rebirth. Caesar’s textured tone contrasts Clay’s smooth delivery, a sonic metaphor for lovers learning to move forward without losing what once was.

“Sweetest Taboo,” with Adebaby and Jamz FR, strips things down to near-intimacy. Over Optimist’s sparse production, both vocalists sound like they’re whispering confessions in real time. It's one of the album’s strongest moments.

The mid-section turns darker with “It’s Not My Fault (Me vs My Ex),” where Tiwi and Suurshi unpack anger and nostalgia over Noah Airé’s moody backdrop. It’s emotionally honest, matching the breakup tension with space for catharsis. The production gives them space to express that frustration without drowning them out. “Take It (Interlude)” lets Suurshi process solitude, her delivery raw and human, the calm between storms. The interlude offers a breather while still maintaining the emotional momentum.

Joy returns with “Pamukutu,” Musta4a and Adebaby’s euphoric rebound moment. Trijay’s upbeat percussion invites freedom, that feeling of remembering joy after heartbreak. “Not Enough,” with Musta4a and Creen Caesar, explores the tug-of-war between satisfaction and desire. The production carries a quiet tension that mirrors the song’s internal conflict.

“IJGB,” featuring Tiwi and Amakah, brings levity and Lagos humor, celebrating and poking fun at the “I Just Got Back” experience. It’s playful and self-aware, one of the project’s cultural high points. “Omo Mummy,” pairing Creen Caesar and Fimi, dives into temptation and longing over Yusuf Akaani’s lush textures, keeping things sultry yet grounded.

“In Your Dreams,” with Reespect and Rozzz, raises the emotional temperature. Zyrx’s brooding production complements the lyrics about obsession and rage without tipping into melodrama. The project closes with “Ololufe,” Adebaby and Amakah’s subdued reflection on grief and nostalgia. It’s not a tidy closure, just emotional honesty, and that feels right.

Despite featuring multiple producers, Files ’26 maintains impressive sonic cohesion. The early-2000s R&B touch is there space, melody, warmth but used as inspiration rather than imitation. Each track breathes, allowing emotion to take center stage.

The early 2000s R&B influence is clear throughout but never feels like a simple nostalgia. The production team understands what made that era special, space in arrangements, melody prioritization, commanding yet minimal rhythm sections, and uses those principles to build something contemporary. 

Ultimately, Cosamote’s debut works because it balances concept, craft, and chemistry. Executive producers Oke “Emaxee” Emmanuel and Oluwatobi Gabriel Baruwa curate a unified vision from multiple voices, a rare feat for any collective. Files ’26 proves that collaboration can be both expansive and intimate, nostalgic yet new.

In the fast evolving world of Nigerian street-pop, consistency is rare and evolution is even rarer. Yet over the past few years, Seyi Vibez has become one of the most fascinating cases of sonic evolution in contemporary Nigerian music. What started as raw, street-driven Afrobeats, built on longing, prayer, and survival has grown into a layered, experimental, culturally anchored sound that now feels unmistakably his. The evolution hasn’t been a leap but a continuous reshaping, each phase adding new textures without abandoning the core emotions that first defined him.

The earliest Seyi Vibez era was defined by urgency. Tracks like God Sent, Bad Type, and Catalyst introduced a singer who carried the streets in his voice. His delivery was unpolished, vulnerable and shaky, His lyrics were prayers, confessions, and reflections on hustle and faith. You heard struggle, but you also heard a young artist writing from lived experience. The production was minimal, often stripped back to allow his vocals and storytelling to take center stage. For a while, that raw, unfiltered intensity became his signature, music made for the streets of Lagos, by someone who understood them intimately.

Then the shift began.

The first major shift came on Billion Dollar Baby and Memory Card, where Seyi began bending his sound into richer, fuller shapes. The beats expanded, percussion deepened, and choral layers added richer texture. He blended street rhythms with spiritual undertones and Yoruba influences, creating music that felt deeper without losing the core that made people connect with him. Instead, it widened the audience he could reach while deepening the emotional landscape of his music.

On Thy Kingdom Come and Vibe Till Thy Kingdom Come, Seyi doubled down on his new direction. Tracks such as Chance (Na Ham) showcased a move towards layered vocals, softer sounds, and percussion that added a spiritual feel. His voice became part of a larger emotional scape, carrying echoes of prayer and the raw energy of street narratives. Producers like Modra, TBM, and Dibs helped shape this sound, ensuring every beat carried weight and nuance beyond the danceable rhythm.

Then came NAHAMciaga, the EP  demonstrated his ability to balance his Yoruba roots with broader appeal. Hits like Different Pattern and Cana were street-leaning but universally accepted, blending the Yoruba language with production that felt both traditional and contemporary. The EP's commercial success also proved that his evolving sound could maintain relevance while still pushing sonic boundaries. Shortly after, the Loseyi Professor EP pushed his evolution further, a seven-track EP where each song bore the name of a city; Lagos, Doha, Casablanca, Santorini, Abu Dhabi, Manchester, showing his journey from the streets to global stages.

All of these set the stage for Fuji Moto. Here, Seyi Vibez fully embraces Fuji, he has repeatedly credited Ikorodu as the core of his musical identity, the place where Fuji, Islamic chants, and street spirituality naturally blend. That roots-first philosophy is what Pan-African Music described as a "neo-Fuji flame," positioning him not as someone reviving Fuji, but someone extending it into a new emotional soundscape. You can hear it especially in how he stacks vocals; the overlapping chants, the call-and-response murmur, and the sound texture. The percussion patterns lean into classic Fuji phrasing, call-and-response vocals mimic live performance, and his chestier, lived-in vocal delivery reflects the genre's demands. Tracks like Fuji Moto bore evidence of years of evolution, threading Fuji with street-pop, percussive Amapiano, Yoruba folk, and contemporary Afrobeats.

What makes Seyi Vibez’s transformation compelling is how natural it feels. There’s no dramatic pivot or rebrand, just a steady, confident widening of his sound. The street narratives still exist, but they coexist now with more layered arrangements, spiritual undertones, and a broader musical sense. He leans deeper into his Yoruba identity, while expanding the production, texture, and emotional range of his music. Seyi Vibez’s growth feels less like reinvention and more like uncovering, an artist peeling back layers of his sound until he finds the core of what makes his voice resonate. From raw street anthems to textured, chant-filled compositions and now Fuji-rooted explorations, he has crafted a progression that feels lived-in, spiritual, and unmistakably his. The journey is ongoing, but one truth is already clear: Seyi Vibez isn’t just evolving his music; he’s expanding its emotional universe. And in doing so, he’s giving his listeners new ways to feel, remember, and belong.

@femibksn

Grief is complex. To Long Island rap group De La Soul, 3 is famously the magic number. Sadly in 2023, the group lost Dave ‘Trugoy the Dove’ Jolicoeur, likely due to congestive heart failure. The two surviving members, Vince ‘Maseo’ Mason and Kelvin ‘Posdnuos’ Mercer have moved forward celebrating his memory and influence rather than staying locked in grief and mourning the huge loss privately. This is epitomised in the release of ‘Cabin in the Sky’, their first project following his death. 

De La Soul have nothing left to prove. To many, their career is still defined by their debut album ‘3 Feet High and Rising’, released in 1989 and absolutely seminal in the sonic environment of hip-hop. Despite this being 36 years ago, they have never stayed stagnant, consistently releasing projects in spite of label issues and legal battles surrounding their style reliant on heavy sampling. In fact, their entire catalogue wasn’t available on streaming services until early 2023. The wording of their original contract was constructed before digital streaming even existed, clearing them only for physical media releases. This didn’t stop the growth of a cult following with fans both new and old left in high anticipation for their newest release since 2016. 

The album begins with a skit, hosted by actor Giancarlo Esposito. Before his huge role as Gus Fring in ‘Breaking Bad’, Esposito is famed for his many collaborations with Spike Lee, entrenching him as an important figure in Black cultural history. Having him set the tone at the start of the album feels like a natural, well-chosen move. Roll-calling everyone involved in the album is a nice touch but at nearly 4 minutes long, it feels slightly dragged out. Luckily, this is the only point on album which feels slow and it move swiftly from the introduction to ‘YUHDONTSTOP’ , a laid-back cut easing us back into their D.A.I.S.Y. age style after nearly 10 years. 

The album continues in its overwhelmingly positive mood, tracks like ‘Sunny Storms’ and ‘Good Health’ bring that classic De La sound of chopped samples and easy drum beats with an overall comfortable vibe. Each featured artist has clearly been briefed to this and each present their own happiness to the album. Killer Mike, for example, spites his homicidal name and gives a sweet verse in loving memory of his mother on the sentimental ‘A Quick 16 For Mama’. This continues the thread of positive grief, explicitly showing how to be grateful for the love received and shape yourself following otherwise devastating losses. 

One thing unchanged about De La Soul since their last releases is the quality of production. From the judicious sample choices to the to the warm, carefully layered arrangements, the production still carries that that familiar pulse that made their earlier work so distinctive and full of character. It is also always so transformative from the work drawn upon, take ‘Cruel Summers Bring FIRE LIFE!!’ which utilises Roy Ayers’ ‘Everybody Loves The Sunshine’. This 1976 track is a heavily sampled staple of hiphop culture, with a list of tributes too long to fit here from artists such as Dr Dre, Tupac and J. Cole. Their use is another entry to this archive, but it still feels entirely theirs and fits nicely at the midpoint of this album.

 The whole album has this feeling of self-awareness which allows it to flourish. The two De La members aren’t trying to push a false character or inauthentic narrative and this means the whole project is charming. This does result in some moments which seem fresh out the 80s/90s rap period but the duo don’t often seem dated on the record. Given the popularity of chilled-out, funky rap to this day (see Joey Bada$$, Smino and the late Mac Miller), this album could have come out in any decade since the debut of De La Soul themselves.

The album ends with a tidy three track run which is a real high point to leave the record on. Neo-soul singer and modern mainstay Bilal lends his voice to ‘Palm of His Hands’ for a beautiful chorus with a groove reminiscent of 90s RnB classics. Followed by the eponymous ‘Cabin In The Sky’ and ‘Don’t Push Me’ bring us back to the main themes of the album, dealing with the reality of death while battling the issues we face while still living. This is kept tight throughout the record and makes it a cohesive listen, whether you listen to it fully, shuffle a few tracks or just individual songs.

It is only now we are beginning to see many rappers age and De La Soul have given a masterclass on aging gracefully and staying positive in the face of true grief. At over an hour in its entirety, ‘Cabin In The Sky’ risked being an overdone, drawn-out tarnish on the legacy of a cornerstone rap group. But there was not a dull moment on the project and the overwhelming positivity seeping out from Posdnuos and Maseo, alongside the well-picked features, made it a smooth listen and something easy to return to as well as a touching tribute to their missing member.

Showering the entire perimeter of the dance floor with dollar bills, the howling echoes of infectious laughter reverberate as heavy, ear-pleasing drum patterns blare from the speakers. A mesmerizing party jollof, ogbono soup, and baked chicken aroma fill the room, as kids run aimlessly through the crowded dance floor. We danced till 1 am. 2 am. 3 am.

From Nigerian engagements, weddings, graduations, funerals, birthdays, and anniversaries– these hall parties were strong fixtures in my childhood. You got to see your favorite cousins, your uncle who claims to have known you since you were a newborn baby, and your beautiful auntie, whose name you never really knew, but always recalled her warm spirit. The Nigerian Hall party stood the test of time. No matter the occasion, climate, or mood, it convened relatives and family alike with one singular objective: to just have a good time. 

‍“My woman, my everything / My woman, I go fit buy you anything / My woman, my everything / My woman, I go fit give you anything / My woman oh, my everything
My woman oh, my everything!” 

Collaborating with Paroranking on the chorus above in the 2015 hit ‘My Woman, My Everything’, Wande Coal’s voice dominated the Afrobeats scene since the mid-2000s. With his recently brilliant, timeless Afro+ Festival performance in D.C. this past summer, performing hits including ‘So Mi So’ and ‘Kiss My Hand,’ the coinciding online discourse began to coin him “The Nigerian T-Pain.” Oluwatobi Wande Ojosipe, a.k.a Wande Coal, was a mid-2000s fixture for Nigerian Hall Parties, along with sounds from P-Square, Styl-plus, D’Banj, Iyanya, Flavour, and Don Jazzy. Don Jazzy and D’Banj formed a powerhouse producer x artist partnership– working to expand the Afrobeats soundscape. These legends of the time were prominent in the scene, giving form to an African sonic sensibility that would build and expand significantly two decades later. 

“As a pair, D’Banj and Donjazzy reimagined the eccentricities of Afrobeats superstardom, becoming continental superstars, earning the recognition of internationally renowned acts such as Akon, Snoop Dogg, and Kanye West, and helming the gateway for the careers of artists such as Wande Coal, D’Prince, and Kayswitch under their Mo’Hits umbrella. The release of the 2009 Mo’Hits compilation album, Curriculum Vitae, preempted Wande Coal’s 2010 rapturous explosion. The rise of Wande Coal was the precursor to a diverse ethos within Afrobeats. Shepherded by Don Jazzy’s multi-layered production, a frenzied uptempo version of Afrobeats emerged. It had a faster percussive rhythm, and the BPM (beats per minute) of the sound cranked between 110 and 140 BPM. The sound infused sonic influences from hip-hop, EDM, disco, and highlife. This era also marked the emergence of artists such as Wizkid, Davido, and Olamide.”

40-year-old Lagos-native Wande Coal's musical career began in the church, which is where he learned to sing and play the piano. ‘Olufe’, a beautiful ballad reminiscent of the Boyz II Men and N’SYNC boy-band era that influenced the Afrobeats sound at the time, was released on his debut album, ‘Mushing 2 Mo’ Hits.’ He went on to win five awards for this album at the 2010 Headies.

“Ololufe, jowo ma'i lo // Iwo ni mo fe ni aiye mi // Ololufe (ololufe), jowo ma'i lo (jowo ma′i lo,) // Iwo ni mo fe ni aiye mi” 
In these Yoruba lyrics, Wande Coal tells his lover not to go, that “she is the one he wants in his life.” 

In 2019, Gentility took the world by storm with Melvitto’s energetically resonant production, matching a smooth yet dancer-friendly cadence set by Wande Coal. This song gained stark popularity, reaching 19 million streams on Spotify. 

“Gentility / Gentility o se stupidity / Gentility o se stupidity
Gentility o se stupidity / Mon wo e / Ton se mi bakan mon wo e / Ton se mi beyen mon wo e / Gentility o se stupidity”

The iconic “Stupidity” outro sung by Wande Coal, commonly sung spiritedly at the top of audiences’ lungs, is indicative of the resonant captivation Wande Coal fosters in his sound. Here, he emphasizes the importance of kindness and gentleness in relationships amid preconceived notions that vulnerability and openness are inherently “stupid” or naive. He combines his honest lyricism with an enticing, engaging production, whose upbeat, catchy energy led to its subsequent popularity. Melvitto emphasized that Wande Coal had an all-encompassing approach to music, noting that: “His process is crazy…He’ll just go in a room and lock the door and just be in there. You’ll hear him singing but you don’t know what he’s doing in there. Then he’ll come back with his laptop and there are 30 voice notes in there that are two minutes long, of just song after song. He’ll tell me to take them and find something that I like.”

‍‘Iskaba,’ a constant on repeat, iconic record played at Nigerian hall parties internationally since its release in 2016, currently amasses over 86 million streams on Spotify. Wande Coal, along with DJ Tunez, crafted one of the biggest, most quintessential Afrobeats songs of its time, whose chants:
“Iskaba, Iskele bete, Iskolo boto / Iskaba, Iskele bete, Iskolo boto / Iskaba, Iskele bete, Iskolo boto / Iskaba, Iskele bete, Iskolo boto”
evokes the freedom of the party – the importance of enjoying life and celebrating with ease. 

Wande Coal’s 2025 new track ‘DEM GO PAY’ invokes a similar energy. Giving a subtle nod to the Nigerian Hall Party and the importance of making energetic music that people can dance to, while this track primarily highlights Wande Coal’s growth and material success in the music industry, he folds catchy melodies and hooks to draw the audience into the party and visual aesthetic. The dark setting and figures dressed in black in the promo visuals highlight the precision of the song’s rollout. In this new age where there is always a constant influx of digital music, the promo is just as important as the record, as indicated by Wande Coal’s pristine photoshoot/visualizer for ‘DEM GO PAY.’ 

There’s something increasingly important about keeping the party alive. Not just in terms of clubs, but community gatherings, celebrations, and the like. This also hinges on the importance of diversified Afrobeats music that drives the fervor, energy, and life of these spaces. Wande Coal’s impact, in addition to a myriad of Afrobeats artists producing music that audiences can genuinely move to, cultivates communal spaces. In an increasingly digitized and individualized world, making music for the sake of community synergy continues to echo in importance.

To be accused of being an industry plant is to many an offensive slur in the music world, undermining the skill and effort it takes to achieve stardom. Finessekid carries these allegations as a trophy. These are a sign that his snippets and popouts are working. His rise to the upper echelons of UK rap has been meteoric, with industry co-signs such as Skepta and Lancey Foux within the first year of his career. His first headline show at the Institute of Contemporary Arts comes almost exactly a year after his first release, ‘Badderz Got Talent’ which had instant traction online and helped build his following. 

Fans were treated to a stream of snippets and singles over the winter and spring with a strong focus on videos and the surrounding visuals, creating a world for each release which helped boost hype for songs such as ‘Like Sosa’ and ‘Coucoo’. A short scroll on his Instagram allows you to see the real motion on show, comment sections filled with both fans begging for songs to be dropped and big names showing love - rappers, footballers, artists, CEOs alike. This past summer was a busy one for Finessekid. In July he released his eponymous debut EP to great reception and celebrated it by popping out with Skepta at his Big Smoke Festival, performing two of his own songs and his then-unreleased collab track with Skepta, ‘Sirens (From Ireland)’, never missing an opportunity to spark excitement for the next release.

Following a host of up-and-coming rappers who had all taken their turns on the mic to gee up the crowd, Finessekid’s DJ whipped out his phone, showing a facetime call with the headline act. Thanks in part to the huge reaction this elicited, a hooded Finessekid appeared finally, to the tune of ‘I Don’t Sell Drugs’ from his debut EP. With many in the crowd wearing shirts emblazoned with this same statement, this was an instant hit and immediately every phone was up recording his entrance. The young rapper was quick to shout out his origins, although his love of Lambeth was already apparent. The stage had minimal design but did hold two oversized signs in the style of London road signage, specifically the Welcome to Lambeth which meets you as you enter the south London borough. Putting the audience right onto the road placed us into Finessekid’s world in a very simple way but it proved effective paired with his rap delivery. 

Every song transition was rapid yet the crowd was happy to keep up with every breathless jump from track to track. Finessekid went from hit to hit lapping up the audience’s attention and once he realised the extent to which he had us wrapped around his finger, his delivery relaxed and it was clear he began to enjoy the night. When he had teased special guests at the start, it was just a throwaway statement. But after he asked the room if we were “ready to go brazy”, the crowd pushed forward, suddenly catching on that we were about to see fellow South Londoner and rapper turned producer TR GoBrazy. Boasting a similar rise to Finessekid, TR GoBrazy first cracked into the scene as a producer, landing heavy credits on tracks like Central Cee and Dave's now-seminal summer hit ‘Sprinter’. The reaction to his pop-out at this concert cements him a rapper ready for stardom in his own right, showing the weight of a Finessekid co-sign in the scene. 

Not long after the first unexpected appearance, the crowd were treated to another, perhaps even more blindsiding. Not one member of the audience was expecting established icon of the UK rap scene AJ Tracey to be the next name on stage, called to action to perform an unreleased collab. Fresh off his own album last summer, Tracey seemed recharged by the new generation, delivering a performance that was both energetic and effortlessly cool. His style was as effortless as his flow, wearing a clean light brown outfit. Against the all-black “uniform” of Finessekid and his crew, he became the natural focal point, like he’d walked straight out of a magazine spread to remind everyone that confidence isn’t something you can fake.

Barrelling on from the momentum of that feature, Finessekid continued the hits yet it wasn’t long until – on his own admission – he ran out of tracks. His short career does come with the reality of a limited catalogue to pull from but the crowd quickly came up with a solution. Probably the most memorable moment of the concert was the exchange of Finessekid and a fan near the front which really showed the love he was receiving. 

“Reload it!!” 
“What, reload that song?”
“Reload the whole show!!”

Laughing to himself, Finessekid checked the time on his phone, thinking for a second about the possibility of running it back in its entirety. In lieu of this unfortunately impossible reload, he chose to replay the hit ‘Sirens (from Ireland)’, commanding the crowd to fill in for Skepta, who was notably missing. 

As first headline shows go, Finessekid left little to be desired. From rattling off his hits to bringing out guests to teasing some new unreleased work, he had the crowd locked in from start to finish. The future looks bright for the young Lambeth star, already demanding such strong attention from the entire scene. Had any fan not been completely captivated, a simple turn would have revealed a Who’s Who of London’s creative zeitgeist with Clint419 and Gabriel Moses taking it all in like any other general admission attendee. Every moment on stage reinforced that pull and if this is the beginning, the scene might want to brace itself for what comes next.

All Images by Adam Brocklesby

‍Kelela Mizancristos is an American singer with Ethiopian hertiage who creates dance/electronic music. Her first project was released in 2013 ‘Cut For Me’ , a daring project that serves as an interesting introduction to her and her work. What stood out from the beginning was her fearlessness in production choices and hard-hitting lyricism. This is then exercised throughout her discography as she is constantly innovating herself. 

‘In The Blue Light’ is a jazz reimagining of Kelela’s discography. What it explores is the many facets and layers of her vocal and writing capabilities. What I love most about this project is how it reframes your perspective of what these songs meant by also fusing her love for black music as a whole. In the accompanying documentary she speaks about how reimagining is a black tradition within music. Through this album she wanted to extend her discography. To me, this album combats the need to constantly produce under capitalism. The arts have been falling victim to a world where nothing seems to ever be enough. But Kelela is asking us as consumers of her music to pause, and re-listen again and again in the hope that we could add  another perspective to what she has created. To me, this album is a love letter to the legacy of black music created for artists in the present, to be able to create in multiple genres and embrace black art. 

Jazz originated in African-American communities in New Orleans and Louisiana during the late twentieth centuries. Enslaved people would sing songs whilst working on plantations or spiritual hymns within the church. This style of music was heavily inspired by African music traditions, one of which being storytelling through instrumentation and lyricism. Traditional songs were handed down by word of mouth, lyrics were constantly adapted and reimagined. Jazz ultimately is a fusion of multiple cultures and influences, it seems fitting that Kelela would create a jazz album to reimagine her songs. In black music tradition, to reimagine affirms the spiritual experience of music. 

Black music inherently involves the process of remixing music. The remix is a part of cultural heritage, through a dynamic blend of African roots and historical experiences of the diaspora and cultural exchange. In this album Kelela mentions this exchange, with her heritage lying in Ethiopia, she comments on how  Africans and African Americans share many things within their culture. Due to the transatlantic slave trade that suffering may have looked diffrent. She says, “Though my people struggled in a different way” acknowledging how her jazz reimagining is a way of acknowledging this hybridity. In the accompanying documentary she mentions how this choice is “The tradition of reinterpretation in jazz has always influenced my work”. Her career has moved so much, starting an indie band, being a background singer, an experimental guitar period then landing at dance/electronic music. Ytasha Womack, filmmaker and author of ‘Afrofuturism’ discusses this concept of the imagination within creativity. The invention of jazz music is an aspect of afrofuturism because for enslaved people it created a medium for them to explore their liberation. 

What makes ‘In The Blue Light’ special is that it takes music from across Kelela’s discography and makes them more sentimental than what they were to fans. She picks songs from the beginning of her dance music career to the most recent. Beginning with ‘Raven’, which says  "through all the labour / a raven is a re-born”, over the soothing keys and harp, we’re able to sit into these lyrics that are about reinvention and growth. The raven, which is the name of her most recent album, represents wisdom and transformation. It makes sense that at this point that Kelela is more interested in this, rather than stagnation within Black music. 

She then moves into the ‘Take Me Apart’ section of the album. This album is Kelela’s fourth project, this is the project that made her known to me. She effortlessly flows between the songs ‘Take Me Apart’, ‘Bankhead’ and ‘Waitin’, all of which are fan favourites. These songs originally had high synths and strong electric drum patterns but in this, it's stripped back with harmonious background vocals that fill the space.

This project also introduces fans who may not be jazz listeners to classic songs, like ‘30 Years’, ‘Furry Sings the Blues’ and ‘Love Notes'. ‘30 Years’ was first performed by Betty Carter, a legendary jazz singer. For Betty Carter this album and song was a celebration of her thirty year career and is a testament to her independence and artistic control, which Kelela represents as well. Throughout her career she has been nothing less than innovative. Consistently creating music that pushes the needle in writing and production, all whilst maintaining creative control. Kelela isn't running up against anyone, she has created her own lane and continues to grow within it. 

The real standout for me in this album was ‘Better’ and ‘Cherry Coffee’. These are heartbreaking love songs that represent letting go of someone or something you love. The sequencing takes us on a musical journey. The crescendo that is ‘Better’s bridge, ”that we've been around once or twice / breaking down in the middle of the night / no ride? So how do we fix this?” sucks you in completely to this emotional breakdown with two lovers. But ‘Cherry Coffee’ is the acceptance that perhaps this lover is in something deeper, something that you as a partner or ex-partner cannot fix, “you’re  in deep / I see what’s going on / it’s a twisted cycle you confuse with love”. This song is beautiful and really encompasses traditional jazz elements like dissonance, allowing us as listeners to sit with these lyrics and have an emotional experience. Love has a way of creeping in and leaving when we least expect it. These songs represent the aching feeling of releasing something when you don't want to. 

To conclude, this project perfectly encapsulates the ways black artists can continue to reinvent themselves. Kelala isn't new to this, as throughout her discography she continues to remix all her musical projects. But, this one felt different and more special, especially since this was all performed live at the Blue Note, an iconic jazz club that has hosted a heap of musicians like Sarah Vaughan and Lionel Hampton. Now Kelela is one to add to this list.

Live at SILO Brooklyn, Arlo Parks unmasks the commonly concealed, uncanny music production process. One large table encompassed the entire stage’s set design, compact with massive MIDI keyboards, TASCAM cassette tape recorders, audio interfaces, decks, keyboards, and a guitar. Sunken red and soft white lights entrap the stage in her new experimental series,  ‘Sonic Exploration.’ 

Born Anaïs Oluwatoyin Estelle Marinho, the L.A.-based and West London-raised singer/songwriter Arlo Parks curates a new way of sharing and experiencing music beyond the traditional performance scene. With shows slated for London, New York, and L.A., these intimate live shows awarded the audience an inside look at her intricate studio process, as she performed old songs from her repertoire layered with unreleased, new tracks. 

The picturesque communal stage removed a natural hierarchy commonly present between the artist and the crowd, designing a curated closeness amongst the audience. Alongside producer/guitarist, Baird, ethereal meets ambience. Layered with synthy, vintage-forward keys, mellow voice-overs, and futuristic textures, Arlo performs her unreleased track, ‘Heaven.’ This track mirrors Arlo’s light, smooth, emotional vocal approach, albeit with a new percussive, R&B-forward twist. 

She then backtracks to her 2023 hit featuring Phoebe Bridgers on ‘Pegasus,’ from the ‘My Soft Machine’ album. Under a calm, moody, nostalgic blue light with synchronized head nods and sways from the audience, this pop bop falls nothing short of simple, resonant genius. Arlo has a beautiful way of conveying deep emotion through her soft cadence, accompanied by her vulnerable lyricism. 

‍“Blue jewels 'round your neck (Ooh) / You cool my distress (Ooh) / Loose cherries, hot breath
I'm overwhelmed (Ready?) 
“I spun 'round and screamed, “‘I feel elated when you hold me’” / Then you got shy and beamed, “‘I think it's special that you told me’” / I think you're special 'cause you told me (Ready?) / I think you're special 'cause you told me / I think you're special 'cause you told me”

Arlo released her new single ‘New Desire’ ahead of her ‘Sonic Exploration’ show as a teaser of her new sound experimentation over the past two years. Taking the stage lights back to sunken red, she hits the decks with Baird on the guitar, playing a light, uplifting harmony. This track showcases Arlo’s sonic evolution, marrying her signature lo-fi, pop sound with a new electronic, punchy percussive feel. A late-night session with Baird inspired this track, all culminating from a voice note she received in May that “made her feel like a teenager again - tender with new magic.” 
Arlo comes full circle near the end of her show with her 2018 debut single ‘Cola,’ rocking the crowd with its heavy, unforgettable, groovy bassline. Currently at 48 million streams on Spotify, the funk-inspired record juxtaposes against the melancholy of unrequited, toxic love, as the crowd emphatically sang,   

“So take your orchids / Elsewhere, elsewhere / I loved you to death / And now I don't really care
'Cause you're runnin' 'round over there / Yeah, you're runnin' 'round over there / And now I don't really care.”

Pulling the audience into Arlo’s new, current, and future musical worlds, the timeless nature of these live shows expands the culture of sharing music that is in process. In an age of chronic automation, the dismantling of overt polish and perfectionism retains the art of the fundamentally undone. 

All photographs by @ememIK46

West London artist, CARI, is one to look out for in the coming years. Coming from Caribbean heritage, it seems that it informs all the work she produces. With such a small discography she is already making her mark within music. She has provided offerings to artists like Venna with the song ‘Veranda’. Effortlessly she bounces over the production, as she describes departing from someone she once cared about. ‘CARI’S HONEYMOON’, an interlude featured on Destin Conrad’s debut album ‘Love On Digital’. This song is less than a minute long but still manages to cut you deep emotionally, “and it should feel like a honeymoon / But it feels like a ticket straight to hell for two”. 

“Is it still love if you have to beg for it?”, that is the question CARI asks, on ‘Colder In June’, the first song I ever heard from her. From this point on I was enamoured by her voice. The emotion depicted in her tone made me feel everything she was feeling. What makes this EP special, ‘FLUX’ , is that it is a perfect introduction to what CARI has to offer us as music listeners. Ultimately, it's a beautiful blend of jazz, r&b and folk music. Her sound already feels extremely established so early on in her career. It's both soothing and abrasive in a way that the lyrics hit you when you least expect it.  

The EP ‘FLUX’ opens with ‘Luvhiii’, a song that has blues undertones, describing love as something that can almost feel violent when a person is feeling it. “You hit me like a truck / And I will never get enough”. The chorus echoes between both ears and you begin to enter this whirlwind of complex emotions with her. ‘Creatures’ is less than a minute long, over an acoustic guitar she wrestles with entering a relationship with someone, understanding that too much of herself will have to be given in order to be in it. It asks the question of whether this is something worth committing too. “Loving you is the only thing I fear”, the last words she sings. It’s almost like a cry, what is special about her music is her tone. Her tone allows you to feel everything she is feeling. This hesitancy of commitment is something many of us have experienced, it can feel short like this song or it can follow us throughout our lives. ‘Creatures of habit’, which can suggest that this is a pattern. It is not perfect, but it’s honest. 

This honesty then follows onto the next track, ‘Phuckups (Hold me)’ over a striking electric guitar. Opening, “It can be lethal / How a love deferred can make the body feel sometimes”. Perhaps this is the result of this “habit” she has developed, hesitating to love. It seems so simple to recognise but hard to break, “Two prisoners to the push and pull”. Her lyricism stands out so much within this project, using a metaphor to describe how far she is from someone emotionally despite being around them, “But you never get close enough to hold me”. She uses strong metaphors to describe love again on ‘Bleeding’. The song is the most haunting, her falsetto floats through the background describing how this heartbreak exceeds emotional but has become physical. “Used the med degree to put more salt in the wounds / Like I was a soldier”. This heartbreak cuts through and has left her pleading. “I doubt you still give a f*ck but I’m bleeding right now”. 

The EP brings us home with the title track ‘FLUX’. This song discusses the uncertainty of young adulthood. The word “Flux” can be defined as “the process of pulling in and pulling out”. This is very accurate to what it feels like to be young in uncertain times. “Wish I could reach inside but it’s far now / Confidence so fleeting / Feel like a star now but I'll probably feel different tomorrow”. As a young person at times you can feel on top of the world. As if you have it all figured out. Then the next day it feels as if you do not know what is going on. This song perfectly encapsulates this feeling. The song leaves us repeating the chorus, “Now / Guess we’re in flux now”. It seems she is accepting of these constant changes, that it is just a part of life. 

Genre is an interesting thing, at times the labels can be quite limiting for Black musicians. But for CARI, it seems that she is pushing this genre further. How far can R&B go? In its tradition it has allowed black women to discuss their romantic desires. In this project she explores themes beyond this, heartbreak, uncertainty and love. All in the space of twenty minutes. What I love most about this project is the somberness, but also hope. Especially in the way it ends, “we’re in flux now”. 

D’Angelo’s passing moved the world to a resounding, harrowing halt. Our collective devastation and utmost admiration spoke to his immeasurable impact on Black soul, funk, and R&B music since 1994. 
The genesis of his sound heavily derives from the Black church– a foundational element of American music across countless genres. From the energy of the choir: the altos, sopranos, and tenors in joint harmony, the commanding power of the guitar’s grounding bassline, to the enigmatic, cinematic control the organ demands—these elements were all intrinsic to D’Angelo’s musical journey. 

‍“This is a very powerful medium that we are involved in,” D’Angelo told GQ in 2014. “I learned at an early age that what we were doing in the choir was just as important as the preacher. It was a ministry in itself. We could stir the pot, you know? The stage is our pulpit, and you can use all of that energy and that music and the lights and the colors and the sound. But you know, you’ve got to be careful.”

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Virginia-born Michael Eugene Archer, also known as D’Angelo, reshaped the entire sonic landscape of R&B. Utilizing vintage instruments like Wurlitzer and dated effect boxes, he fused laid-back soul with a new stylized funk-jazz-pop-afro sound in ‘Brown Sugar,’ his 1995 debut album. Though producer Keda Massenburg coined the phrase ‘neo-soul’ and recognized D’Angelo as the pioneer of  the ‘neo-soul’ subgenre, D’Angelo rejected this, and in an interview with Red Bull Music Academy, he stated:  “I never claimed I do neo-soul…When I first came out, I used to always say, ‘I do black music. I make black music.’”

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Refusing to limit his musicality, he was endlessly inspired across the African diaspora, most notably in his 2000 sophomore album ‘Voodoo.’ Winning the Best R&B album Grammy for that year, debuting at number one on the Billboard 200’s chart, and selling 320,000 copies in its first week, this album was a critical success that fused afro-caribbean, funk, hip-hop, salsa, blues, neo-soul, gospel, and jazz all in one. The final single, ‘Untitled (How Does It Feel)’ was ranked by Rolling Stone as one of the Greatest Songs of All Time. 

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“HOW DOES IT FEEL? /  (Wanna know how it feels, yeah)

HOW DOES IT FEEL? / (Said did it ever cross your mind?).”

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D’Angelo’s vision for this album was heavily influenced by African traditions. The last song on the album, named ‘Africa’, layers smooth gospel chords and subtle echoing harmonies, alongside gorgeous ad-libs–culminating in a meditative ode to belonging, home, and being Black between two opposing worlds. 

“Africa is my descent / And here I am, far from home / I dwell within a land that is meant for many men not my tone, yeah / The blood of God is my defense / Let it drop down to my seed / Showers to your innocence / To protect you for all eternity / And with this wood, I beat this drum / We won't see defeat, yeah / From kings to queens becomes a prince / Knowledge and wisdom is understanding what we need.” 

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With regards to the title ‘Voodoo’, in an interview with Jet Magazine, he spoke more to its influence, noting: “I named the album Voodoo because I really was trying to give a notion to how powerful music is and how we as artists, when we cross over, need to respect the power of music. Voodoo is ancient African tradition. We use ‘voodoo’ in the drums or whatever, the cadences and call-out to our ancestors and that in itself will invoke spirits. And music has the power to do that, to evoke emotions, evoke spirit. That’s something I learned in the church when I was very young and that’s what I wanted to get across.” 

Building on this, D’Angelo was increasingly fascinated by the work of Olufela Olusegun Oludotun Ransome-Kuti, most commonly known as Fela Kuti. Hailing from Abeokuta, Nigeria, band-leader, activist, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Fela Kuti was committed to advocating against the regressive systems in Nigeria and speaking out for the poor. This guided his lyricism and the way in which he approached the stage. Fusing social commentary with his politically charged lyricism, he layered horn arrangements, jazz undertones, and traditional highlife with raw guitars alongside his extensive 20-member band. He is credited as a major fixture in the creation of the Afrobeat genre, a fusion of traditional highlife with jazz and funk. 

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‍‘Water No Get Enemy’ was released in 1975 on his ‘Expensive Shit’ album, an almost 10-minute track that takes listeners on a dynamic journey from start to finish. Opening with punchy staccato horn phrasing, jazzy chords, brilliant guitar riffs, and smooth saxophone solos, Fela’s band spends nearly half the song in an almost unscripted jam session, an intricate lineup of percussion, horns, guitars, and keys. Halfway through, Fela begins singing in Yoruba and pidgin English, expounding on the Yoruba proverb on the importance of water in both the literal and conceptual sense— tying Black resistance to the unshakeable, immutable force of water: 

“T'o ba fe lo we omi l'o ma'lo / If you want go wash, a water you go use / T'o ba fe se'be omi l'o ma'lo / If you want cook soup, a water you go use / ri ba n'gbona o omi l'ero re

If your head dey hot, a water go cool on / T'omo ba n'dagba omi l'o ma'lo / If your child dey grow, a water he go use / I dey talk of Black man power (Water, him no get enemy!) / I dey talk of Black power, I say (Water, him no get enemy!) / I say water no get enemy (Water, him no get enemy!)”

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25 years later, D’Angelo takes this track, flips it on its head to add a gospel, funk, electric, R&B twist. Recorded for the Red Hot + Riot compilation at the iconic Electric Lady Studios in New York City, D’Angelo, Femi Kuti, Macy Gray, Roy Hargrove, Nile Rodgers, Positive Force, Roy Hargrove, and The Soultronics join forces with producer Questlove to craft a legendary  cover of Fela’s well-renowned song. As Questlove counts down, Femi Kuti opens with an electrifying saxophone solo, alongside Nile Rodgers' enticing guitar solo. The beautiful vocal interplay between D’Angelo’s soulful adlibs, Macy Gray’s raspy, jazzy inflections, and Femi Kuti’s powerful Yoruba chants blends seamlessly in this eccentric take on Fela’s original record. The spirit of D’Angelo’s funk and gospel sensibility is heavily prevalent here, honoring the arrangement of the original song while also crafting, building, and experimenting with something so intricately, brilliantly, and innately new. 

(D'Angelo) 

(Oh, oh, yeah...)

(Oh yeah... oh yeah... mmm, mm-mm, yeah...)

(Femi Kuti, Macy Gray and (D'Angelo)

T′o ba fe lo we omi l'o ma′lo, oh-ohh / If you want go wash, a water you go use (Ah, ah)

T'o ba fe se'be omi l′o ma′lo, oh-ohh / If you want cook soup, a water you go use

T'o ri ba n′gbona o omi l'ero re / (If your head get hot, water you gon' use – ah, ah)

T′omo ba n'dagba omi l′o ma'lo / If your child dey grow, now water you go use / T'omi ba p′omo e o omi na lo ma′lo – you don't want that now / If your child dey grow, now water you gon' use / (And you don't want that, you don't want that, no...)

D’Angelo and Fela Kuti both understood the power of music as a vessel to communicate stories of vulnerability, love, oppression, Black spirituality, and community. The mark of a great artist is the ability to see music beyond themselves. It was never only about the individual, but rather a portal to the boundless power within the communal African diasporic tradition— encompassing gospel, funk, soul, R&B, highlife, afrobeat, jazz—and the innumerable future genres that have yet to be fully realized. 

D’Angelo’s ‘Water No Get Enemy’ functions not only as an aesthetic homage, but a bridge connecting 1970s African political resistance to early 2000s meditations on Black spirituality, belonging, and culture. 

@ememIK46

For years, Northern Nigerian music existed outside the national spotlight. It lived on local radio stations, in wedding halls that stretched into the early hours, and in Kannywood films that were household staples across the region. It was embedded in everyday life, yet largely absent from mainstream music conversations in Nigeria.

This absence was never about a lack of talent. The North has always produced artists with skill, originality, and cultural depth. What it lacked was consistent industry attention. While music scenes in Lagos and the East benefited from infrastructure, media coverage, and institutional support, Northern music circulated mostly within its own ecosystem, respected locally but overlooked nationally.

That dynamic is now shifting.

In recent years, and particularly in 2025, Arewa music began breaking through long-standing barriers. Streaming numbers climbed, collaborations expanded, and songs from Northern artists started travelling beyond regional borders. What once felt peripheral has moved closer to the centre, not by imitation, but by confidence in its own sound.
This moment did not arrive overnight. It was built by artists who continued to refine their craft when recognition felt distant, laying a foundation for the current wave. Below are ten artists whose work illustrates the depth, range, and ambition of Northern Nigeria’s music scene today.

1. ClassiQ (Arewa Mafia)
Often referred to as the Arewa Mafia, ClassiQ is widely recognised as one of the pioneers of Hausa-inflected rap in Nigeria. Born in Bauchi State, he carved out space for Northern hip-hop in an industry long dominated by Southern cities.
Tracks like “King Kong” display his technical precision and command, while “Gargajiya” leans into heritage and cultural storytelling. ClassiQ’s influence is foundational; many younger artists reference his work as proof that Arewa narratives can thrive within Nigeria’s mainstream music landscape.

2. B.O.C. Madaki 
Also from Bauchi State, B.O.C. Madaki brings reflection and social awareness into Northern rap. Transitioning from gospel to secular music, he demonstrates both versatility and depth.
Rapping in Hausa and English, his songs engage themes of identity, struggle, and everyday realities. Tracks such as “Dan Gaye,” “Ka Huta,” and “Harara” balance thoughtful commentary with rhythm, offering Northern youth music that is both culturally grounded and socially conscious.

3. Morell 
‍Hailing from Borno State, Musa Akilah expands the scope of Arewa music beyond rap. He fuses Afro-pop and RnB with Northern sensibilities, proving that the region’s sound can also be melodic, romantic, and emotionally driven.Songs like “Ganga Da Garaya” and “Aure” blend heartfelt lyrics with modern production, appealing to audiences drawn to groove and feeling rather than bravado. Morell’s work shows that Northern identity can move fluidly across genres while remaining rooted in culture.

4. Yung Kheengz
Born in Zaria and raised in Bida, King Bawa, YFK, brings intellect and pride into his artistry. A civil engineering graduate, his personal story challenges narrow stereotypes often associated with Northern artists.

His album “Voice of Arewa” positions Northern identity as something to be claimed, not defended, particularly on tracks like “I Am North.” Collaborative projects such as the “Four Horsemen” EP, alongside DJ AB, B.O.C. Madaki, and Deezell, highlight the collective strength of the scene.

5. DJ AB 
From Kaduna State, DJ AB, born Haruna Abdullahi, blends Afrobeat, hip-hop, and pop into a sound that is accessible while remaining distinctly Northern. His breakout track “Da So Samu Ne” brought national recognition, and his collaborations continue to bridge regional sounds with wider audiences. DJ AB demonstrates that Arewa music can sit comfortably within Nigeria’s mainstream without losing its cultural identity.

6. Deezell
Deezell represents ambition and cross-regional collaboration. Recently, his track “Amina” featuring Tekno symbolised a deliberate uniting of North and South. Beyond his own music, he runs Arewa Cartel, a label dedicated to amplifying Northern talent. Songs like “Girma,” featuring ClassiQ and DJ AB, underscore his commitment to building not just songs, but a sustainable ecosystem for Arewa music.

7. President Zik
Born Zachary Kwaga and raised in Zaria, Kaduna State, President Zik blends hip-hop, Afro-fusion, and melodic RnB. As co-founder of Big Headphones (BHP), he has been instrumental in shaping projects like “Tree House Vol. 1”  and “Dreamatorium.”

His solo EPs “No Dayz Off” and “See You Soon” reflect energetic rap and introspective lyricism, while his Urban Lifestyle Fest provides platforms for emerging Northern artists. Zik represents a generation that is both culturally grounded and industry-aware.

8. Rumerh
Rumerh is an emerging female rapper blending Hausa, Afrobeat, Amapiano, and hip-hop. In a male-dominated Northern scene, she asserts her presence through sharp lyricism and confident delivery. Her work challenges expectations around gender and sound, positioning her not just as a rising Northern artist, but as a defining voice for women within the broader Nigerian music industry.

9. Bamihan
Born Azi Bamison Ishaku in Bauchi State, Bamihan balances his music career with studying medicine at the University of Jos. His sound, which he describes as Afro-Sharholiya, blends Hausa influences with Afrobeat and contemporary styles.
His breakout single “Wayyo (Dadi Kasheni)” gained viral traction and was later remixed with Ice Prince. Bamihan’s versatility, moving between introspective storytelling and feel-good tracks, reflects a generation that refuses to choose between identity and accessibility.

10. Magnito
Born Mohammed Usman, Magnito is a veteran voice bridging older and newer eras of Northern rap. Known for his witty lyrics and narrative approach, he has maintained relevance across years of industry shifts.
Tracks like “If I Get Money Ehn” and “Medicine Girl” blend humour with cultural commentary, underscoring the depth and continuity of Northern music culture. What is unfolding now is not a trend, but a reckoning. These artists, whether veterans or emerging voices, demonstrate a clear truth: Northern identity is not a constraint, it is a foundation.

They are expanding what Nigerian music can sound like and where it can come from. Arewa music is no longer waiting for recognition. It is building its own future, loudly and deliberately. The only question left is simple. Is the rest of the industry ready to listen?

The night kicked off with solid security and an entry process that was, from my end, entirely seamless. From the jump, it was clear that the crowd understood the assignment; the fashion was undeniably lit. When Mavo said "sexy girls from my city Lagos" he wasn’t lying, because a lot of sexy girls and cool guys showed up in droves to listen to their boy. 

But the anticipation was built slowly. While the event was billed to run from 8:00 PM till dawn, the early hours were dominated by guest artists who held down the stage until the man of the hour made his move. It wasn’t until around 1:00 AM, which was honestly expected for a "till dawn" show , that Mavo made his grand entrance to"Escaladizzy," finally kicking the night into high gear.

One thing about Mavo is his energy; he’s very nonchalant in a good way, moving with a relaxed confidence that anchors the room. Throughout the night, "I came with my friends" became more than a statement, it was a mantra that  was repeated throughout the night. He shared the stage with a host of notable artists like Shallipopi, Wave$tar, Zlatan, Toye, Shoday, Poco Lee, Ckay, Minz, Psycho YP, and Taves.  

In a heartwarming moment, even his parents were in the building to witness his first major concert milestone. However, that collaborative spirit was a bit of a double-edged sword. At a certain point, the fans weren’t so happy because they just wanted to see their boy perform. To be honest, I was low-key pissed that we didn’t get to hear some of his essential tracks, like "Tumo Weto," "Wuse II" with Zaylevelten, or his collaborations with Wavestar. We aren’t exactly complaining, though, because Mavo and his producer Aibrid gave us something special by performing some exclusive songs that kept the vibes high.

If there is one thing that needs to improve, I won't fault Mavo for it, but I’m definitely pointing fingers at the organizers: the sound. The audio was not nice at all, especially for the fans at the back, which really affected the experience. I realized then that Mavo isn't the only artist who has been a victim of this lately; it’s a recurring issue at other concerts in Lagos too. Despite the technical hitches, the energy sustained until the very end, around 4:30 AM. As the night drew to a close, the sky lit up with fireworks, a triumphant signal marking the success of his first concert. It was a night of exclusive sounds and grand entrances that proved Mavo has the city's heart, ending on a literal and metaphorical high.

‍All images by @TheFirstTayo on IG.

For months now, Nigerian social media has been locked in a loud and sometimes uncomfortable conversation about privilege, access, and survival. The Nepo baby and Lapo baby debate started as jokes, then quickly turned into something heavier. People began using those words to explain why some people rise faster, why others struggle longer, and why talent alone often feels like it is not enough. Somewhere along the line, the conversation stopped being just about people and started shaping the music itself. What we are hearing today, especially among younger artists, is a sound that carries background, upbringing, and social reality inside it. People have started calling these sounds Nepopiano and Lapopiano. The names may sound playful, but the ideas behind them are serious. This is about who you are, where you are from, and how that reality leaks into your music, whether you plan it or not.

Nepopiano is the sound people associate with comfort, polish, and a certain quiet confidence. It leans heavily into Amapiano rhythms, but the attitude is softer and more controlled. These songs often feel unbothered, almost relaxed, as if the artist is already secure and simply enjoying the moment. The music rarely sounds desperate or urgent. It sounds like someone who expects good things to happen. One of the clearest faces of this sound is NO11, whose breakout record “How Far” with Ayjay Bobo and Monochrome pushed this conversation further. The song did not rely on heavy street energy or aggressive delivery. It floated. The vocals were calm, the production smooth, and the message felt like a shrug rather than a struggle. That is why people connected it to the Nepo conversation so quickly.

Lapopiano sits on the other side of the conversation. This is music that carries hunger inside it and sounds like the city under pressure. It borrows from Amapiano rhythms but twists them with street energy, rough edges, and lyrics that feel closer to real life for many Nigerians. One of the strongest voices people point to in this space is Boy Muller, whose song, fittingly titled “Lapopiano,” has become a reference point in the conversation. Boy Muller’s music feels rooted in everyday reality. There is no distance between the singer and the struggle he is describing. Songs like “Lapopiano,” “Dear God,” and “God Abeg” carry the weight of survival, hope, and persistence in a way that feels familiar to many young Nigerians. The production is warm but not overworked, and the delivery feels earnest, like someone speaking from where they stand rather than where they hope to be. Danpapa GTA is another name that comes up again and again when people talk about Lapopiano. His music feels lived in. Songs like “Ikeja (No Go Thief)” and “40 Naira” speak directly to everyday Nigerian realities without trying to clean them up. The beats may move your body, but the lyrics remind you of stress, survival, and ambition that come from the ground up. Danpapa GTA does not sound like someone who expects the world to open doors for him. He sounds like someone pushing those doors himself. His music feels like it belongs to people who understand Lagos traffic, daily hustle, and the frustration of trying to move forward with limited resources.

What makes the Nepopiano and Lapopiano conversation powerful is that it is not really about who is better. It is about recognition. Nigerian youths are using music to talk about class in a way that feels familiar and accessible. Instead of writing essays or long threads, they are pointing at songs and saying, “This sounds like privilege” or “This sounds like struggle.” The internet loves to argue, but underneath the jokes is a real truth. Background shapes art. Access changes confidence. Struggle sharpens urgency. These sounds are simply reflections of different starting points in the same country. What is also interesting is that listeners are no longer pretending these differences do not exist. People are listening with context. They want to know who you are, where you come from, and what that means for your sound.

Nigerian music has always reflected its environment. From highlife to afrobeat to street pop, every era has told its own story. Nepopiano and Lapopiano are simply the latest chapter. They show a generation that is hyper-aware of class, access, and opportunity, and bold enough to talk about it openly through sound. This conversation will keep evolving. Some artists will reject the labels. Others will embrace them. What matters is that Nigerian music continues to tell the truth of the moment, even when that truth is uncomfortable.

And right now, this is the truth people are dancing to.

The S16 Film Festival opened in Lagos on December 1 and ran through December 5 with screenings across Alliance Française Lagos, Filmhouse Landmark, and the Nigerian Film Corporation. The festival, organized by the Surreal16 collective, focuses on independent and experimental work. It curates in a way that favours film-based craft and analogue aesthetics. This year, the programme included new feature presentations, a strong selection of short films, and a set of practical industry sessions designed to help filmmakers find distribution and attend festivals.

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S16 opened with Cotton Queen by Suzannah Mirgani and closed with Memory of Princess Mumbi by Damien Hauser. In between, the festival brought together filmmakers, critics, students, and film lovers who came to see what new voices are shaping African cinema at the moment. One of the major high points was the special presentation of My Father's Shadow, directed by Akinola Davies Jr., which returned to Nigeria after its successful international run and its selection as the United Kingdom's official submission to the Academy Awards. The festival also presented the Nigerian premieres of Minimals in a Titanic World by Mbabazi Sharangabo Philbert Aime and Fantastique by Marjolijn Prins as part of a Dutch collaboration.

S16 is known for its short films, and the 2025 edition reinforced that reputation. The shorts in competition included Obi is a Boy by Dika Ofoma, Wrong Way by Nana Kofi Asihene, Journeys of Singleness by Barnabas Ayo-Ilekhaize, Mother by Olamide Adio and Victor Daniel, Back to the Theatre Vox by Amina Awa Niang, Song of Solomon by Enobong Albert, and Ode! There is No Bus Stop on This Trip by Donald Tombia. Others in the competition lineup were About Sarah by Daniel “S.A.D” Alaka, Morning Morning by Gozirimuu Obinna, Keys by Mooreoluwa Natasha Wright, My Jebba Story by Kagho Idhebor, Traces of the Sun by Rete Poki, Second Wind by Celestina Aleobua and Sochima Nwakaeze, 70 × 7 by Chiemeka Osuagwu, and The Passage by Ntokozo Mlaba. Beyond the competition slate, the festival screened a wide range of shorts in its general programme. Titles included Déjà Nu, Siraam, Dog Shit Food, Rivers of Days, There’d Be Days Like These, Un Deux Trois, and Mango. These films brought a range of tones and textures to the festival. Some were poetic and personal, while some were bold and strange. But all of them fit the festival’s style of pushing filmmakers to explore new forms of expression.

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A major addition to this year’s festival was the first-ever AFP Critics Prize. The African Film Press (AFP) selected S16 as the host for its inaugural award, a decision that signalled the growing importance of criticism within the African film ecosystem. The jury was formed by AFP founders Tambay Obenson of Akoroko, Jennifer Ochieng of Sinema Focus, and Ikeade Oriade of What Kept Me Up. The prize came with a cash award, a trophy, and a certificate. It was created to encourage serious film criticism on the continent and to give critics a stronger voice within African festivals. The AFP initiative has backing from development partners and seeks to expand the pool of critics engaged across Africa.

S16 also offered a set of industry sessions. The festival hosted a Road to Cannes panel featuring Funmbi Ogunbanwo and Wale Davies. The conversation focused on how African filmmakers can prepare their projects for major international festivals. S16 also organised a workshop on shorts distribution at the Nigerian Film Corporation. Gbenga Adeoti was listed publicly as a presenter for the session, which aimed to guide new filmmakers towards effective festival strategy, distribution paths, and long-term career development. S16’s curation stresses craft, experimentation, and film heritage. The festival has rules and a manifesto that encourage local languages, discourage formulaic romantic comedies,s and welcome genre and surreal elements. S16 positions itself deliberately as an alternative to mainstream Nollywood. This posture provides independent filmmakers with a platform to showcase their risk-taking work and connect with peers and critics who value craft. The addition of the AFP Critics Prize gives S16 a stronger critical arm and confirms the festival’s role as a space for serious debate. 

AFRIFF and S16 sit within the same growing ecosystem. Both festivals speak to where African cinema is heading. Both attract audiences that care about film as an art form and film as a cultural phenomenon. In the end, S16 felt like a reminder that African cinema grows stronger when its storytellers stop waiting for permission and simply make the work that feels true. The festival showcased films that were small and intimate, as well as others that were ambitious and wide in scope, yet all of them carried the same quiet insistence that our stories matter. The theme asked for illumination, and the festival delivered it in the simplest way possible, by letting the work speak for itself.

Lagos has episodes that tell you exactly where the future is heading. ‘72 Hours in Lagos’, the short film released through Tems’ Leading Vibe Initiative (LVI) in collaboration with Native Instruments, is one of those moments. It follows three emerging producers, Saszy Afroshii, TinyBraz, and Gbots, through a three-day stretch of work, rest, doubt, excitement, and everything in between. The film is compact, but it captures something big which is the shift happening in Nigerian music, especially for young women who are building careers behind the boards.

Tems has spoken openly about teaching herself production in school, leaning on YouTube videos, borrowed equipment, and whatever tools she could find. LVI is her attempt to widen the path for others. Native Instruments supplied resources while LVI supplied mentorship, and the short film brings the whole experiment into focus. The three producers featured in the documentary represent different corners of the city’s creative scene. Saszy Afroshii has worked on several mainstream records and speaks in the film about Lagos as a place that shapes how she builds rhythm. TinyBraz works from a small home setup and describes the pressure to fit into a narrow idea of what a female producer should look or sound like. Gbots found herself in moments where the room held only men, and the expectation was that she would remain quiet. She didn’t. She eventually co-founded We Are ProducHERS, a community for women in production.

Their stories land with clarity because the film refuses to over-dramatize them, and Lagos becomes part of their process, but never in a romanticized way. The film shows the city as it is, busy, energetic, and chaotic, the same environment that Tems and so many others grew in. Tems appears throughout the project in a way that feels observational rather than instructional. She listens more than she speaks, and when she does speak, the emphasis is always on access. She says she wanted LVI to be “a place where women in music don’t have to figure everything out alone.” That idea comes through clearly in the film’s structure. The producers work independently, but the initiative itself provides a framework that many emerging artists go years without finding.

There is something grounded about the way 72 Hours in Lagos is edited. It gives each producer room to articulate her process without squeezing her into a singular narrative. The film doesn’t try to prove a point but rather documents one. There is progress happening in real time, shaped by talent, persistence, and a city that demands both.

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Earlier this year, Tems expanded the Leading Vibe Initiative by hosting an in-person programme for young women across Lagos. Twenty participants received equipment training, songwriting sessions, and mentorship from established producers. The interest was immediate, and the waiting list grew quickly. The need for something like this had been clear for years; LVI gave it structure.

The larger significance of the film sits in the backdrop. Women still occupy a small fraction of production credits globally, and in Nigeria, the numbers fall even lower. 72 Hours in Lagos does not claim to solve that imbalance, but it offers a working model for how to shift it. It shows that support systems do more than inspire, they change outcomes.

There will be bigger versions of this story, more editions of LVI, more producers coming into the industry with access their predecessors never had. When Tems says she created the initiative so young women “can see what is possible,” she is describing the heart of the project rather than a tagline. The work is consistent. The intention is long-term. 72 Hours in Lagos is an introduction, and the producers featured are still in the early stages of careers that will develop in their own ways. What Tems has built gives them more room to grow and more control over how they do it.

The ripple effects will show over time. For now, the documentary stands as a clear marker of a scene evolving through collaboration, visibility, and access — the things that often determine who makes it to the next stage and who never gets the chance. Tems wanted to open the door wider, and the film shows what happens when people walk through it.
@black_ranter

“Shout out to the OGs in the game, but it’s time to pass on the baton to Champz.”

Champz is fourteen. He is also Wizkid’s first son. Nothing about his entrance into music was ever going to be quiet, and this line arrives with the self-assurance of someone who has studied greatness closely. Someone who grew up watching it breathe, dress, make mistakes, and triumph. The entire EP, produced by Hosanna, sounded like Champz making a declaration while also claiming his inheritance. In the EP, the young Balogun doesn’t ask permission to exist in the lineage he comes from; he rather steps into it with the quiet conviction of a boy who knows that lion no dey actually born goat.

‘Champion’s Arrival’ is five tracks of confidence and clean production, filled with the kind of youthful boldness the industry rarely sees at this scale. The project rushed to number one on Apple Music Nigeria within hours. It charted across continents. Social media was a frenzy. Some people praised the skill, the delivery, and the ease. While some others called it what they believed it was, a masterclass in nepotism. When you listen to ‘Champion’s Arrival’, what strikes you first is not the polish (not that there’s a shortage of that), but the innocence of ambition. There is an eagerness here, the eagerness that can be found in children who have grown up backstage watching their parents transform into legends under stadium lights. Champz sings and raps like someone who has been absorbing a world he didn’t choose but is not learning to claim. Listening to him, you sense a boy stretching into a silhouette that already exists for him. He does not sound like his father – not quite. He sounds like someone attempting to rise from beneath the shadow without rejecting its shade. There is a familiarity in the cadence, but the intention feels new. A boy declaring he is here to be heard, even if the world first listens because of his last name.

The EP is littered with small, deliberate moments where you can hear a young artist trying to understand what it means to carry a legacy before they fully understand themselves. His lyrics wobble at times, but the audacity is there, shimmering beneath the boyishness. He knows that he has something to give. That the baton passed to him will not fall from his hands. Culture often treats nepotism and lineage as something not to be used, as though blood alone can script brilliance. But Champz’s entrance into music reminds us that inheritance is less about inevitability and more about courage. The courage to attempt, to sound unsure, to sound young, to grow in a space where everyone expects you to arrive fully formed. We are not witnessing the arrival of a prodigy; we are witnessing the beginning of a journey.

The Nigerian music industry is obsessed with origin stories. We love the dreamer from nothing who rises from the dust. We also love the ones who walk in with legacy behind them, even when we pretend we do not. Champz sits somewhere in the middle. What makes him interesting is that he is not running from the narrative. He is rewriting it. The conversation around nepotism will continue, and maybe it should. It forces the industry to ask who gets a fair chance and why. Still, something is compelling about someone who has every advantage and still puts in the work (we’ve seen that before). Someone who most people expect to fail loudly and chooses to rise instead. Champz seems eager to prove that talent can coexist with privilege. A famous surname sure can open the door for you, but it cannot keep you in the room. The EP shows a boy standing at the beginning of something huge, aware of the spotlight but not shrinking from it. If this is the baton he says he is ready to take, then the industry should keep its eyes open.

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My first personal introduction to Tems was through the infamous song ‘Essence’ by Wizkid and Tems on his ‘Made in Lagos’ album. Her emotive voice caught my ear as it did for many of us. I was interested in her discography but I hadn't become a fan yet. Although I did appreciate her unique tone and her ability to convey her lyrics in an interesting way. 

The first project I listened to by her was ‘If Orange Was a Place’ and I was impressed. I quickly became a fan and continuously listened to this EP and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I think the title of this project is interesting as orange connotes warmth and energy and I believe that's what Tems and this project emphasise. This is definitely a comfort project with fun Afrobeats and R&B. 

The opening of this project with ‘Crazy Things’ is definitely one of the fan favourites and mine also. This song is so interesting to listen to because at first your focus is on the beat

which is sonically amazing to listen to, then your attention drags to her voice which is extremely unique in itself. Finally, we listen to the lyrics which are emotive and empowering at the same time. To my understanding, Tems is describing someone she knows and their bad behaviours that affect her peace of mind “all you do is lie, lie / give me some time I need peace”. The chorus’s repetition of the word “crazy things” connotes the idea that she is speaking her mind specifically and that there are a lot of things going on that come from this person disrupting her peace but also making reference to the wider world. Despite her going through relationship issues which is a “crazy thing”, societally there are other "crazy things”. Another line that stood out to me on this track was “oh, you try to make me insane, you know I'm not the same / I think I can do better” which can be empowering when you realise that someone doesn’t have this power over you anymore. This opening can already tell the listener they're going to listen to Tems delve into deep topics of self and warmth and high energy. 

Another stand out track is ‘Avoid Things’ which is the second to last track on this project. This song is extremely honest and relatable. I believe we all try to avoid feeling, speaking and expressing our emotions towards ourselves or to the people who are hurting us. This song speaks of exactly that. The lines “I try to avoid things but there is no one / this is madness” can connote that she is only running from herself because no one is there but herself. It can also connote that she's avoiding stuff she's feeling from someone who doesn't listen to her anyway. The lines “and it’s a migraine to play your mind games / you're like a cold place, don't need a cold place”. These words further emphasise the idea of not being listened to, which can be the reason why she's avoiding things. In addition, the juxtaposition between the words “cold” and the project title, ‘If Orange Was a Place’ can create this sense of warmth that she aspires to Thus, ending this project with ‘Vibe Out’, tells her that despite all of what's happening to her mentally, she's still going to have fun and vibe out. 

All in all, I believe that this is an amazing introduction to Tems’ work as an artist or a fan. To me, this project set the precedent for what her music would sound like. Her honesty and vulnerability within her lyricism becomes consistent within her discography.

Elitefest, from its very first word “Elite” was a festival that truly lived up to its name. It was elite, memorable, and undeniably fun, with a lineup that proved the organizers knew exactly what they were doing. From bringing in the ladies’ man Gabzy, to pulling up Gen Z’s favorite Zaylevelten, and showcasing women with angelic voices like Fave, Morravey, and Qing Madi, the experience was unforgettable. Listening to these women perform live was a goal in itself, but the energy didn't stop there. With vibe master Kashcoming and the amazing producer-turned-artist Young John leading the charge, the Balmoral Convention Centre in Victoria Island became the epicenter of the night.

The atmosphere was elevated by a heavy-hitting rotation on the decks. The resident DJ, DJ Psy, was nothing short of amazing, alongside DJ Ozzai and DJ Bellami, who both delivered live sets that kept the pulse of the room steady. The night was steered by the hypeman, Fabulous, who, true to his name, did a fabulous job of keeping the crowd fully engaged. It’s a reminder of how vital a hypeman is to the live experience; even with a small slip, calling Gabzy ‘Gatsby’ before the crowd quickly corrected him, Fabulous never lost his grip on the room. One of the standout elements of Elitefest was how the organizers intentionally created space for the underground and rising stars. We saw live performances from the likes of Sello, Loti, and Taves, as well as Toye, who all brought their unique sounds to the stage. Watching Wavestar perform ‘Prada Baby’ live was a moment,  as was a set by a male artist with a voice so angelic I didn't immediately recognize him, only to later realize it was Natse Jemide.

The night also gave the floor to upcoming talent the crowd didn't even know yet, allowing them to showcase original music. I remember a girl performing her own song with incredible confidence and a rapper who took the mic to deliver bars over a beat the DJ kept perfectly in pocket. Seeing a festival actually give talent the floor to perform their own music, rather than just covers, felt refreshing and vital. This same passion was reflected in the crowd; seeing fans who love Zaylevelten sing his songs with so much heart

 and watching the audience embrace Young Jonn with pure joy, was powerful. It was more than just singing along; it was about being part of a movement.

Most people in attendance especially were clearly waiting for Gabzy, who finally took the stage around 3 a.m. I've never considered myself the type of person to scream when seeing a favorite artist, but the moment he appeared, I found myself joining the sea of voices, especially the ladies letting out a deafening scream. He truly is the "ladies' man. In the world of Lagos nightlife, it was a set well worth the wait, fitting perfectly into the rhythm of an all-night event that stretched until 6 a.m. Young John’s set was another peak, especially when he brought out Lil Kesh and Pheelz to push the adrenaline even higher. We also witnessed a beautiful moment from Fola, who was brought in by Gabzy,  performed both solo and alongside him, adding a layer of soul to the festival’s high energy.

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Ultimately, Elitefest wasn’t just about the music, it was about creating a complete, intentional experience. From the carefully curated lineup to the impeccable sound quality and the nonstop movement of the crowd, every detail captured the true spirit of Detty December. The sing-alongs and the energy in the room proved that this wasn’t just another event; it was a celebration. Elitefest has set the bar high for what a festival can be, leaving fans already anticipating what the organizers will bring next. It was a night to remember, and one that will be talked about long after the last song faded out.

All images by carmizeven

On 'Kaizen', Bhadboi OML turns vulnerability into strength. The Rising Afrobeats artist has already started to find confidence in his fluid blend of Afrofusion, R&B and street lyricism; he approaches his sophomore EP as both a reflection and a reset. The title, drawn from the Japanese

philosophy meaning "continuous improvement", — feels like a mission statement for an artist determined to evolve in both sound and spirit. 

Across the six tracks, 'Kaizen's Intro', 'Child's Play', 'Bag of Vibes', 'Jah', 'Oversability' and 'Sergio Ramos' — Bhadboi OML crafts a story of resilience, ambition and gratitude. His melodies glide between mellow and defiant, his delivery marked by that familiar mix of grit and grace that is quickly becoming his signature. Where earlier work leaned heavily into street‑hop urgency, 'Kaizen' trades bravado for balance; the growth is audible and intentional. 

The project opens with 'Kaizen's Intro', a meditative entry that sets the tone with quiet determination. The sparse instrumentation allows space for voice and thought, and it works as a deliberate pause before the body of the EP. 'Child's Play' follows up with breezy confidence, underlining Bhadboi OML's ease with melody and tempo. Warm percussion and open chords make the track an immediate earworm without sounding overproduced. 

On 'Jah', faith and intuition take centre stage. He sings with unfiltered emotion: "Jah e be you, e be you, e be you 24/7". The lyric sits comfortably alongside a minimalist beat, proof that sometimes restraint creates the most resonance. 'Oversability' continues the reflective mood, serving as the project's spiritual midpoint. This production utilises subtle reverb and low‑end warmth, fostering contemplation to support the lyricism within. 

Contrast arrives with 'Sergio Ramos', a track that fuses street bravado with poetic resolve. Named with a wink to the famed defender, it is as much about protecting one's space in life as it is about defending an artistic identity. The verses snap with intensity while the chorus lets the emotion breathe — a smart arrangement that highlights Bhadboi OML's range. 

Production across 'Kaizen' leans warm and textured, taking from Afrobeats, trap, and R&B influences without losing cohesion. The beats are uncluttered, leaving room for the vocals to sit naturally in the mix. Where some peers chase maximalist production, Bhadboi opts for clarity: each instrument has purpose, each silence speaks. 

Lyrically, the EP is less about boasting and more about progression. There is an honesty to his phrasing: small confessions and observations that invite empathy rather than awe. Lines about perseverance and the everyday grind surface without a heavy hand, which makes the moments of uplift land harder when they arrive. 

If there's a criticism, it's that the EP at times plays it too safe; a couple of tracks could've benefited from a riskier arrangement or a surprising feature to break the uniformity. Yet that restraint also feels like a statement: this is an artist polishing his craft, focusing on nuance instead of pyrotechnics. 

Ultimately, 'Kaizen' reads like a quiet manifesto. It is not a simple collection of songs but a document of process, a self‑aware pursuit of better. With this EP, Bhadboi OML cements his place among a new generation of Nigerian artists unafraid to introspect out loud. In a musical landscape often obsessed with speed and spectacle, he offers stillness, and that might be his greatest strength yet.

By the time Fave first discovered the viral AI-generated remix of her song 'Intentions', it had already taken on a life of its own. The edit, dreamy, slowed, and algorithmically textured, was circulating across TikTok and X, reshared by fans who were drawn to its ethereal feel. It wasn't official, wasn't commissioned, and wasn't something she ever had planned. Yet, instead of treating it as just another internet anomaly, Fave made an unexpected move: she took ownership of it.

AI remixes have become a defining part of today's digital music culture. They pop up overnight, spread like wildfire, and often reframe songs in ways artists never considered. Many musicians have responded with hesitation or frustration, seeing these edits as intrusive or creatively disrespectful. But Fave's response reflects another mindset – one rooted in curiosity, adaptability, and control. She realised that this AI-generated version of 'Intentions' resonated with listeners because it unveiled another emotional shade of the song.

Rather than let the AI remix exist as an unauthorized derivative, she stepped in and reshaped it: 'Intentions' keeps the atmospheric softness fans loved, but now pairs it with deliberate craftsmanship. Her harmonies feel warmer and more present; her delivery clear, more intentional; the production, while airy, gains structure through human direction. She elevates it rather than erasing the influence of AI.

The result is a version that feels like a conversation between human intuition and technological possibility. Fave underscores the strong parts of the AI version, discards what didn't work, and brings in that emotional grounding only an artist can introduce. It blurs the line between experimentation and authorship in a way that feels both modern and deeply personal. 

This also speaks to a wider industry moment: as conversations around AI, creativity, and ownership continue to heat up, many are left speculating about what the future relationship between artists and technology will look like. Fave's approach offers one answer: art can coexist with the digital as long as the artist remains at the head of the creative decisions. In a way, she has proved that AI need not replace human creativity but inspire new forms of it by reclaiming and refining what the internet produced. 

To fans, 'Intentions (feat. Urban Chords)’ feels like the discovery of the same song in a new emotional register: more introspective, more atmospheric, and subtly more vulnerable; a version shaped both by spontaneity and intention. It captures something of the magic that happens when unexpected digital moments are transformed into meaningful artistic statements. 

Ultimately, Fave's decision to turn an unofficial AI remix into a polished release is more than just a clever response to a trend: it's a testament to her artistic vision, her adaptability in a shifting digital landscape, and her understanding of how modern music lives online. In a world brimming with algorithmic noise, she shows that creativity still belongs to the artist, and that even technology can become a canvas when steered by the right hands.

Listen to ‘Intentions (feat. Urban Chords) here
‍o.faiidat

Nigeria's Detty December is now a global cultural moment rather than just a time for celebration. Every year, Lagos attracts tourists, music enthusiasts, and returning diasporans who want to experience Afrobeats in its most immersive form. Concerts dominate the calendar, tickets sell out quickly, and social media builds excitement weeks in advance. However, a growing worry has emerged amid the commotion and excitement of the 2025 season: the growing disparity between the quality of live concert experiences and the hype surrounding them.

The enthusiasm of the audience is not the issue. Demand has never been higher, if anything. The frequency with which expectations and execution collide has changed. This season, several high-profile incidents rekindled discussions about crowd control, safety, and concert organisers' general readiness during busy times like Detty December.

Fola's Mainland Block Party, his first significant headline performance in Lagos, was one of the most talked-about events. As a significant milestone for an artist whose ascent has been closely observed, the event carried a great deal of anticipation. However, due to safety concerns raised by the venue's overcrowding, the concert was abruptly ended. Reports confirmed that capacity had been exceeded, forcing organisers to halt the show to prevent further risk. Fola later issued a public apology, explaining that the decision was made with the safety of attendees in mind.

While the apology was acknowledged, the reaction from fans revealed deeper frustrations. Many attendees voiced concerns about poor crowd control, access issues, and overall coordination. The disappointment surrounding the event went beyond the performance itself and instead highlighted what happens when growing popularity is not matched by adequate planning and infrastructure.

Around the same period, similar concerns emerged following BNXN’s Lagos concert, where fans reported being locked out despite holding valid tickets. The artist later addressed the situation, attributing the issue to capacity and ticketing challenges. Though different in context, both incidents pointed to a recurring issue within Nigeria’s live entertainment scene — the strain placed on venues and organisers during high-demand seasons.

Given the growing expense of concert attendance, these moments have been especially startling. Due to inflation, production costs, and the premium nature of December events, ticket prices have been rising steadily. Industry reports have already cautioned that if service quality does not improve, rising entertainment and tourism costs could make Detty December less appealing. Paying more naturally raises expectations for many fans, not just for the artist's performance but also for the overall experience, safety, sound quality, and organisation. Dissatisfaction is nearly inevitable when these components are lacking.

Recognising the structural difficulties Nigerian concert organisers face is also crucial. Large-scale event planning is made more difficult by a lack of specially designed venues, erratic power supplies, problems with security coordination, and logistical limitations. These facts are widely known and continue to be major obstacles. However, audiences are increasingly comparing local concerts to international standards as Afrobeats continues to gain recognition on a global scale. Consequently, there is less tolerance for mistakes that were previously thought to be inevitable.

Detty December, 2025 has not gone on without success. Several events have delivered memorable performances and demonstrated what is possible when planning, production, and crowd management align. Still, the concerts that fell short have sparked necessary conversations about sustainability, professionalism, and accountability within Nigeria’s live music ecosystem.

Hype may draw crowds and sell tickets, but it cannot replace structure, foresight, or audience care. As Nigeria’s concert culture continues to expand, the challenge is no longer visibility or demand. It is consistency. If Detty December is to remain a cultural highlight rather than a seasonal gamble, quality must become as prominent as the buzz that surrounds it.

o.faiidat

Born and raised in South Chicago, Ravyn Lenae is a musician who has a history of vulnerability, beautiful melodies and a mix of genres. Her discography so far details her relationship to self, people and the world around her. She does this in such a relatable way,  as a listener you are able to feel everything that she is feeling with her. The ways that she translates her emotions within her music, not only within songwriting but also  production, adds a timeless essence to her sound. 

I’m not new to Ravyn Lenae’s music, I first discovered her when I was in my early teens. It was the ‘Crush EP’ (2018) and the song ‘Computer Love’. What attracted me to this song was the clear yearning and desire for the other person. It was the 2010s, documenting that experience of falling in love with someone through the phone. You can imagine at that age I really resonated. It was a false closeness, you were intimate but not quite because you have never touched. From here, her music has followed me all the way into my 20s, when life only got more complex. Lenae’s recent success with hit single ‘Love Me Not’ felt like it was about time the world recognised her ability to transcend genre and make intense love ballads. I love ‘Love Me Not’ but the song that has stuck with me the most is ‘Pilot’. When the guitar chords come in it feels like floating through the sky with eyes, clothes and my fingers making waves. She opens with, “Maybe I’m contagious // the way that I can push anyone away”.  These words alone felt like a gut punch because it made me realise that my guardedness, that I once regarded as protection, was stunting me from growth. 

A while ago I was texting one of my closest friends about post-uni life. We were just discussing jobs and careers and I admitted to her that I really don't know where I'm going with any of this. Even speaking to my sister, when she asks me the important questions about my career and where I'm going next, I instantly get defensive because I simply don’t know. Growing up I have prided myself in the fact that I’ve always known what I wanted, despite what was going on in my family home or in the world. I knew who I was and what I wanted to be. I’ve changed so much. When I listened to  ‘Pilot’ by Ravyn Lenae it reminded me so much that life moves in waves. At times you're in control but other times you are not. 

I struggle with uncertainty. It’s supposed to be this thing that can provide you freedom. That you can’t control your life and you can’t predict your future so you should just live in the present. But this has bruised me. It’s made me fear everything because what if something bad ends up happening instead of good. Uncertainty makes me anxious. I’m in this vicious cycle with myself, trying to navigate a future world that I do not and cannot understand.  Beating myself for not having the answers straight away. I’ve changed so much. And I hate that. I hate it because I wasn’t expecting it. Three years ago, I was so different, in my head the person I used to be was way better than who I am  now. But I think it’s because my life seemed so much more clearer. I knew what I wanted then. I don’t know what I want now. I’m so “small to the world I’m in”. I see that now. I’ve changed so much. 

My change is something I’m growing to no longer fear but embrace. My being is complex and that’s okay. Who I was yesterday will change, I shouldn’t feel boxed in by this, I should feel pride because of this. My liberation is expressed through my ever changing nature. This is not something I understood before but completely understand now. 

To be a pilot roaming is to be a person flying in a sky that’s too big for you to be in alone. Yet you still feel like you're driving your own plane. My 20s so far have been filled with a lot of lonely moments in the sky. Scared I may crash and burn. Or drop flat. But as I sit in this plane, with a destination that is uncertain, I am certain that I will land somewhere. There’s so much liberty in releasing who I thought I was and becoming who I’m led to be. I’ve been convicted. To stop repressing parts of me that needs to evolve. I am no longer chained to my past selves. 

“Let go / far from everything I thought I was”‍

@elishasmalls_

Cover Image: Bird’s Eye  (2024) Shot by Kennedi Carter

The arrival of 2026 has introduced a profound distortion in our musical reality. A viral, AI-generated "Afro Soul Orchestral" version of Stromae’s "Papaoutai" has surged across global platforms, capturing the public imagination in a way few traditional covers ever could. This is no longer a simple technological experiment. It is a defining cultural pivot that challenges our understanding of creative ownership and the digital simulation of human pain. As this haunting orchestral rendition climbs the charts, it forces us to re-evaluate the line between artistic tribute and algorithmic exploitation.

To understand the weight of this reinvention, one must look to the architect of the original. Born Paul Van Haver on March 12, 1985, in Brussels, the Belgian-Rwandan artist known as Stromae became a global phenomenon with his 2013 album, Racine Carrée. "Papaoutai" was its crowning achievement, a track that blended Belgian electronic roots with Congolese soukous while addressing the tragic 1994 Rwandan genocide that claimed his father’s life. The original song stands as a monumental success, boasting over one billion views and solidifying Stromae’s status as a pioneer of the francophone "chanson" revival.

The genius of the 2013 original lay in its masterful use of irony. Stromae crafted a "Trojan horse" of a song, wrapping the devastating lyrics of a child searching for an absent father "Papa où t'es?" inside a vibrant, high-energy production. It was a visual and auditory mask. In the music video, Stromae played a rigid mannequin, a literal representation of a father who is physically present but spiritually hollow. For over a decade, the power of "Papaoutai" was found in this tension: the upbeat tempo acting as a shield against a deep, unresolvable trauma.

The 2026 AI reinvention, credited to creators like Unjaps, chooses to shatter that shield.

This version is an exercise in "Afro-Gothic" cinematic weight. Gone are the syncopated synthesizers and the club-ready four-on-the-floor beat. They have been replaced by a slow, funereal crawl led by earth-shaking war drums and sweeping, melancholic strings that evoke the scale of a grand tragedy. The most jarring shift, however, is in the vocal delivery. The AI model produces a voice that is not polished or "perfect" in the way we expect from machines. Instead, it is weary and gravelly, full of the heavy breathing and vocal cracks that characterize human vulnerability. It is a performance that mimics the sound of a breaking heart with terrifying accuracy.

This leads us to a necessary philosophical inquiry: is this evolution good or bad?

On one level, the track is objectively magnificent. It allows the raw poetry of Stromae’s lyrics to finally breathe without the distraction of a danceable beat. Yet, as it dominates the Spotify Global 200, we must consider the cost. This version does not use Stromae's actual recordings; it is a mathematical simulation of his emotional affect. When a machine successfully mimics the grief of a son whose father was lost to genocide, we enter a moral gray area. Is it a tribute to the songwriting, or is it an "algorithmic parlor trick" that exploits a real human history for viral engagement?

We are currently standing at an existential precipice in the music industry. If an algorithm can learn to predict the frequency of sorrow and reproduce it with such fidelity that it induces real tears in a listener, what happens to the human artist? We should certainly expect more of these AI "remakes" as they prove to be highly profitable and emotionally resonant. However, we must ask if this begins an evolution where the "prompter" eventually replaces the "creator." Does the existence of this cover affect the sanctity of the original work? Some might argue it expands the song's legacy, while others believe it dilutes the specific, lived experience that Stromae poured into his art.

In the world of high-fashion and high-art, we place immense value on provenance: the documented history of the hand that made the object. This AI cover threatens that entire hierarchy. It proves that, for the modern consumer, the "experience" of the art is becoming more important than the "authority" of its source. If the goosebumps are real, the public seems increasingly indifferent to whether the singer has a soul or a processor. This shift marks the definitive end of the "uncanny valley" in music. We are no longer listening to robots; we are listening to machines that reflect our own humanity back to us better than we can ourselves.

The reinvention of "Papaoutai" is more than a viral anomaly. It is a signal that we have entered an era where our deepest emotions can be perfectly simulated. While the orchestral version offers a beautiful, haunting new lens through which to view a classic, it leaves us with a haunting question. If we can no longer distinguish between the cry of a human soul and the output of a sophisticated machine, what truly remains of the artist's voice? The mask has been removed, but we may not like what we see behind it.

Cover Photo credit : Michael Ferire

A quiet shift is happening in the Nigerian music industry, more Nigerian Gen Z artists are stepping into a second identity: producer. They’re not just voices on beats anymore, they’re shaping the sound from the ground up. While this might feel like a new wave, Nigeria has seen artist-producers before. The difference now is scale, accessibility, and how deeply self-production is tied to identity. What was once a rare skillset is becoming a generational mindset.

The idea of Nigerian artists producing music isn’t new. In the early 2000s, Paul Play (Paul I.K. Dairo) balanced his R&B career while producing for others, including work on Tony Tetuila’s debut album. Years later, Tekno reminded the industry that artists could be hitmakers behind the scenes when he produced Davido’s smash hit “If.” More recently, Pheelz and Youngjonn transitioned from being sought-after producers to front-facing artists, proving the path could go both ways. These moments showed artists could understand music beyond performance. These moments proved artists could understand music beyond performance.

But those were exceptions. Today, for many Gen Z artists, production isn’t just a side skill, it’s part of the creative foundation.

The difference lies in access and intention. Previous artist-producers often worked within traditional studio systems. Today’s young artists are learning production on laptops in bedrooms, watching YouTube tutorials, trading presets on Discord, and experimenting in real time. Software like FL Studio and Ableton has flattened the learning curve, making beat-making as accessible as writing lyrics.

More importantly, Gen Z artists see production as a way to build identity, not just save money or prove technical ability.

Across Nigeria’s alternative rap, Alte, and experimental pop scenes, artists are shaping their own sonic worlds from the ground up. They start with moody synths, ambient textures, distorted drums, or stripped acoustic loops before lyrics even enter the picture. This creates songs where the emotional tone of the beat and the vulnerability in the vocals feel inseparable, because they come from the same source.

Producer alter egos are becoming part of that process. Danpapa.GTA operates as Lori.oke when crafting beats, Kemuel produces under the name Wondah, Boyspyce becomes Madd Thing behind the boards, while Zaylevelten works as Tenski and Soundz as Funwon. Some artists quietly release beats or experimental soundscapes under different names, freeing themselves from expectations attached to their main brand. It's a creative loophole: if fans expect melodic trap from you, your producer alias can explore ambient sound design or gritty underground textures without confusing your audience.

This shift mirrors global movements where artists like Tyler, The Creator and Travis Scott built careers on self-shaped sonic universes. But in Nigeria, it carries extra weight. The mainstream industry is still heavily structured around producer-artist pipelines, especially in Afrobeats. Gen Z’s hands-on approach challenges that system, pushing music toward more personal, less formulaic directions.

There’s also a speed advantage. Artists who can produce demos, manipulate their vocal chains, or build rough instrumentals don’t have to wait for beat emails or expensive studio sessions. Creativity becomes immediate. Ideas are captured while they’re still raw.

Still, this doesn’t replace professional producers, instead it evolves their role. Instead of arriving empty-handed, artists come to sessions with stronger visions. Producers become collaborators refining textures, not just suppliers of rhythm. The result is music with more depth and intentionality.

And culturally, this matters. Nigerian Gen Z grew up consuming global internet music culture alongside Afrobeats. They’re inspired by SoundCloud scenes, DIY artistry, and genre fluidity. Self-production allows them to translate that influence into something locally grounded, fusing trap drums with Afrobeats bounce, emo melodies with pidgin slang, ambient pads with street pop.

Nigeria has had artist-producers before. But today, it’s no longer a rare skill, it’s becoming a creative philosophy. For Gen Z musicians, stepping behind the boards isn’t just about control; it’s about identity, experimentation, and ownership. As more artists embrace their producer alter egos, Nigerian music isn’t just evolving in sound, it’s evolving in how that sound is being made.

@femibksn

Image: x/heisremanewss

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A striking cello opens the track, functioning as both a cunning harmony and a simultaneous bassline. James Blake’s effervescent, angelic vocals float alongside Santan Dave’s heavy, emotive bars, complete with syncopated drums and haunting echoes of “doesn’t just happen.” 

[Chorus: James Blake]

Falling in love (Doesn't just happen)

Staying in love (Doesn't just happen)

Falling in love (Doesn't just happen)

Staying in love (Doesn't just happen)

Falling in love (Doesn't just happen)

Staying in love (Doesn't just happen)

Dave and Blake’s undeniable bond is reflected effortlessly in their music, where two seemingly opposing musical timbres actually sit together quite nicely. Songs like ‘Selfish’, ‘History’, and now with ‘Doesn’t Just Happen’, do a brilliant job of combining Dave’s intense raps with James’ electronic, dramatic production– complete with orchestral-leaning vocal ballads, ruminations on relationships, and the complexity of love. 
Dave never wavers in the intensity he brings to every record. In this 3-minute track alone, we learn that Dave’s girlfriend presumably hates him, how growing up hungry can impact how you move in the world, the moral battle of having money, musings on Tony Soprano, and how deep down — maybe Dave hates himself too. 

[Verse: Dave]

If being a good man was easy, I'd still be me, cah I do shit the hard way / You don't know who's who

/ My girlfriend hates me, deep down maybe I do too / We used to jack n***** in the morning, cah most man didn't have cash when work's done / This type of dinner have your jawline thinner, man gonna think you had work done

See a man maintainin' / See a man, wait, nah, see a man complainin’… / Yeah, I got dirty money, but show me a pound or a dollar, and it doesn't have blood on it (Doesn't just happen)… / Therapy couch like Tony Soprano, black Viano / Hit an artery, stabbed in a major…

That's staccato, cash or card though?

I got the country's sins on finance

I know we all wanna make it to heaven, but it— (Doesn't just happen)

James Blake’s vocals mirror Dave’s sentiment. He mulls over ideas of effort and how good things actually take meticulous time and dedication, contrary to the belief that things just happen, or subsequently “fall into place.” 

[Bridge: James Blake]

Maybe you stopped putting in time

Somewhere along the line

And everything good

And everything good

Doesn't just happen

Doesn't just happen

[Outro: James Blake]

And everything good

And everything good

Doesn't just happen

Doesn't just happen

Doesn't just happen

Blake’s new album ‘Trying Times’ will be his first independent studio album, to be released by his own label, Good Boy Records. This comes after his continued advocacy against major labels and streaming platforms that refuse to pay artists properly, stymying the creative process in and of itself. . And after management cuts – which is between 15 and 20 per cent – and taxes and recording overheads, it’s just not sustainable for an artist to focus on just their art.”

He committed himself and his art to independence, fostering direct, genuine fan engagement and promotion. In the spirit of maintaining agency of his own fan relations and promo, James Blake released this exclusive track with Dave on Monday, January 19th, with a 72-hour listening window with options to preorder or presave, in addition to offering a special first press vinyl edition available for purchase. 

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His new album is slated to come out on March 13th, 2026, exploring the relentless nature of modern life. 

“After over a decade on a label, it feels scary to go independent, but here we are. As someone who hates spam, I promise not to send you annoying emails. Just trying to break free of the algorithm gods gatekeeping art.”

Emem-Esther U. Ikpot @ememIK46

Pop girls do not simply release albums; they announce eras. An era comes with a visual language, a new posture, a shift in energy that tells the world who an artist is becoming. 

Tyla’s January 2026 Vogue China cover does exactly that. It does not scream reinvention, but it signals refinement. It’s a subtle recalibration of sound, image, and self as she prepares to usher in a new body of work.

Shot by the seaside in Malibu, California, the cover story situates Tyla in a liminal space: between land and water, innocence and intention, play and discipline. Water, a motif that first carried her into global consciousness, still flows through her visual world. But here, it is calmer, deeper, more deliberate. This is not the splash of emergence, it is an ode to her musical journey thus far.

Styled by Alvin Yu, Vogue China’s Fashion Director known for shaping Rihanna’s most iconic fashion chapters at Vogue, the cover direction leans heavily into the senses. Yu understands that Tyla is not an artist to be over-explained. Her appeal has always been physical, instinctive, bodily, rhythmic. In her own words, music does not need complexity. It is intuition. It is joy. It is indulgence. The styling mirrors this philosophy while quietly elevating it.

Tyla has described her voice as orange — sometimes neon orange — and her sound as dessert, sweet and indulgent. Yet the wardrobe tells a classic switch in direction story. Long silk satin white dresses, beach-towel constructions, floral chiffon, and a bright pink bikini form a palette that feels both sensual and serious. Gold jewellery punctuates the softness: bold, sculptural, unapologetic. The pieces do not overpower her; they frame her. This is a woman learning and shifting into calmer territories.

The sleek bob haircut further sharpens this message. Gone is excessive movement. In its place is clarity. Precision. A silhouette that allows her face, voice, and presence to do the talking. This is particularly striking in the editorial’s East-meets-West dialogue. In one frame, Tyla stands beside a motorcycle at dusk, dressed in a black bodysuit-style dress with a gold sculptural neckpiece; modern, cinematic, quietly dangerous. In another, she wears a bespoke white Chinese qipao adorned with red and purple multicolour Asian motifs, honouring tradition while asserting her place within it.

This is cultural exchange. It is alignment. Tyla’s global rise has never required her to abandon her roots, but it has asked her to translate them for other audiences. The Vogue China cover understands this translation instinctively. It positions her not as a guest in global pop culture, but as an active contributor shaping its future.

At the heart of this evolution is Tyla’s ongoing search for what she calls “music that belongs to me.” Her sound has always been stitched together: genres layered, rhythms borrowed and reimagined. As a teenager, she spent hours covering chart-topping songs, learning structure, testing range, absorbing influence. But it was the creation of Water that marked a turning point. That song did not imitate; it declared. It was the moment she recognised her own voice.

Now, with a new album confirmed, that voice is expanding rather than shifting entirely. South African rhythms remain foundational, offering a collective narrative rooted in celebration, movement, and communal joy. These are sonic references and they are emotional cues. The impulse to gather, dance, and lose oneself in rhythm is not a trend for Tyla; it is muscle memory.

Layered atop these rhythms is a more complex story: that of an ordinary girl navigating extraordinary visibility. Fame, for Tyla, is not the destination but the environment although dazzling, loud, disorientating. Her new work promises to explore what it means to find oneself not before the party begins, but in the middle of it.

This tension is what makes the Vogue China cover compelling. The styling may appear serious, but it does not contradict her sweetness. Joy can be intentional. Pleasure can be composed. A Joburg girl does not lose her identity by wearing silk instead of a bikini, she deepens it.

The short skirts, colourful swimwear, and tight crops that define Tyla’s core style are still present, still important. But they now exist alongside structure, heritage references, and editorial restraint. This is how pop eras mature. Not by abandoning what worked, but by understanding why it worked in the first place.

Tyla’s next era will likely be quieter in its confidence and louder in its impact. If Water introduced us to her instinct, this chapter promises mastery. Vogue China captured a moment of alignment between sound and sight, body and rhythm, girlhood and growth.

And if this is the visual prologue to her next album, then one thing is clear: Tyla is no longer just riding the wave. She is learning how to direct it.

Mbali Gene Sibeko @thegoodgirlgene 

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Image: “Tyla Vogue China Cover” cover shot by Kat Irlin supplied by Vogue China.

“A top writer only needs 2 bars to make an impact.” This is what Skepta said after listening to Jim Legxacy’s hook on No Weapons, an instant classic on Dave’s recent release. With Skepta set to release ‘Knife and Fork’, his new album, why not enlist Jim Legxacy to provide another hook or a verse even? Jim took over the UK scene in 2025 with an authentic fusion of real raps and beautiful self-produced neo-soul and his work is so exciting and fresh it would make total sense to pair it with Skepta’s ever-evolving, never-stagnant sound. It felt like Skepta was outside the entirety of 2025, with constant features, releases and his massive Big Smoke Festival in August. Continuing this momentum into 2026, he remains one of the most exciting and fresh artists in the UK over 20 years into his career. Bridging the North/South London divide and bringing the Lewisham and Tottenham sound together could be the best music we hear this year. 

Like Jim Legxacy, Ceebo used 2025 to really prove himself to the UK scene, with the release of ‘blair babies’. This was a project devoted to the reclaiming of the narrative surrounding the generation born in the UK during 1997-2007, the tenure of Prime Minister Tony Blair. The topics were heavy. The Lambeth rapper covered subjects such as the numbing over-consumption, institutionalised racism, rising cost of living, causing many to box him in as a purely conceptual, serious rapper. But behind this incredible social commentary is a rapper who likes to have fun in spite of it all, showcased at his recent headline show. Enter J Hus, resident provider of song-of-the-summer in the UK. Ceebo was part of a generation raised on tracks like ‘Did You See’ and ‘Lean & Bop’ and I am truly sure he could lend his services to the creation of the next in a long line of hits. 

Loyle Carner and Olivia Dean are two artists cut from the same cloth. The two BRIT school graduates have collaborated before, ‘Homerton’ on Carner’s 2022 album ‘Hugo’, but we are long overdue another. Dean had a massive year in 2025, releasing her second album ‘The Art of Loving’, gaining 50 million monthly listeners on Spotify and becoming the first female solo artist to simultaneously have four singles in the Top 10 of the UK singles chart. Carner likewise was busy throughout the year, with his album ‘hopefully !’ releasing in June which saw him step into a new sound, lush and ethereal, even singing on some tracks. This intimate side to Loyle Carner added to the warmth familiarity of Olivia Dean would produce some real beauty, something laid-back and sunny for the summer or cosy and affectionate for the colder autumn months. 

I was lucky enough to see AJ Tracey on his “Not Even A Tour" in 2025, a series of shows in smaller venues across the UK which brought him much closer to fans after years of playing festivals and arenas. There was so much energy in the crowd, everyone was on the same wavelength and it was clear Tracey loved connecting again like this.

‍Strandz, at a different stage in his career to the now veteran AJ, also used his 2025 show to connect with fans and bring back that party feeling to concerts. With the sound of ‘Diaspora Dance Music’, Strandz reset the barometer for gigs in my eyes and hopefully more artists will follow his lead bringing a feeling of fun and community to concerts. Clearly the two need to link up on a party anthem to propel this into the mainstream convention, something which can unite a dancefloor in a small concert hall and a major festival mainstage alike.

Greg and Tom, known to many as Window Kid and Niko B, are two enigmas of the UK rap scene who have both mastered the balance of music and personality. With their online presences, they have individually cultivated tight-knit fanbases who hang on their every story, repost, tiktok and song release. With the similarity of the two it is almost strange they haven’t collaborated yet with their uniquely British tongue-in-cheek bars and judicious production choices. While Window Kid does usually bring UK Garage/DnB tracks, much louder and brasher than Niko B’s lofi style, the rise in popularity of reworking grime songs onto chill beats shows us Window Kid can definitely flow on this type of tune. Or who knows, maybe we could hear Niko B on a dirty grime beat, stranger things have happened! One thing we do know is hearing the two go bar for bar, reference for reference, punchline for punchline, would be a fantastic watch. 

2025 was an undeniable year for the UK underground, many are even debating whether it can still be called that. From this crowd arose Sinn6r as a wunderkind and his release ‘#FEDERAL’ had a grip on the scene even before its release, highly anticipated after his single ‘Personally’. Fimiguerrero spent the year feeding ‘Conglomerate’ fans with singles, such as ‘my bad bro’ and ‘designer’, each taking over Tiktok and Instagram stories. His two features on Esdeekid’s “Rebel” only propelled him further, fans now left itching for another project. If we see arrive in 2026, the inclusion of Sinn6r would be exciting, both rappers containing this bouncy flow, always with an unapologetic presence on the beat. The unified forefront of the UK Underground has always seemed inherently collaborative and its best work comes at the intersection of its most sensational artists so to see these two on a track would be definitely remarkable and would naturally dominate social media. 

All photo credits: Adam Brocklesby @acwbrocklesby

The culture of letting your hair down and having a simply good time has long since left the clubs and music venues around the country. This is the claim South London rapper Strandz has built his latest run of shows around with the aim to rejuvenate the party and bring down the walls of self-consciousness and performative coolness. Sharing a name with his recent debut album, the Diaspora Dance Music party travelled to Manchester and Berlin before a marquee finale at Scala in London.

The name Diaspora Dance Music is born of Strandz own lived experiences, living around Germany and Nigeria as a child before spending his remaining youth in South London and graduating with high grades at the renowned BRIT School. His social consciousness and academic achievements combined allows him to create music that engages directly with the colonial past and the post-colonial realities we’re still dealing with today. Throughout his career Strandz has found strong success with singles, such as ‘Us Against The World’ reaching the top 10 in the UK charts. These allowed him to curate a signature sound, cultivated from the nostalgia of 90s RnB but with his own authentic voice shining through, never just copying from the greats before him. 

The concert was hosted by Lockdown T, online comedian and great personality. His duties as host were to keep the vibes high while setting a nice and informal tone. He clearly enjoyed cracking a few jokes and eating his Nando’s chicken on stage while warming up the crowd. This was an excellent choice in the endeavour to get people active through singing, dancing and very often laughing. There were moments where T would even jump into the crowd, cameraman in tow, to conduct live interviews with the crowd, perform a short skit to lead into the next song or just to dance wildly like the rest of the audience. 

The show opened in the same way as the album, with ‘Democrazy’, a summery dance track which forces you to move your body. The swinging drums and breezy melody were paired with live accompaniment from a saxophone and guitar which breathed a new life into the performance. Strandz was met with an expected roar but did not miss a beat in getting straight into the song, starting the experience as he meant to go on. His chemistry with the musicians on stage made for a glossy show, each person on stage had a real swagger to their stance and clearly a sense of party between them. His saxophonist, Ezra Skys, really stole the attention every time he contributed with soulful texture and beautifully bright sound.  

The poster had advertised ‘special guests’ alongside the Strandz headline, and he did not beat around the bush with this promise. Only six songs into the bill and out came South London rap legend Giggs to perform his 2025 collab track with Strandz, ‘Time’. Wrapped up warm for the cold December night in his anonymous black puffer and scarf, Giggs’ entire demeanour embodied his nickname ‘The Landlord’. This was a real highlight of the night and the crowd clearly agreed, I can’t imagine another rapper who could get a bigger reaction. 

Strandz kept the party going with more guests, which every time felt like two friends dancing and laughing at a South London motive rather than on stage to a packed-out crowd. Next to appear was one half of a UK rap mainstay duo Kreptfor ‘Made It Out’, followed by more chilled out arrivals from Pip Millett and Mnelia for their respective songs ‘Stay The Night’ and ‘Ms.Tery’. The most heartfelt guest appearance was certainly from Strandz’s own partner Lola Baird, solely to dance together and take in the moment they had created together.  

There was palpable love in the room during this whole concert. Strandz and his team had put intimate care into the experience and their effort to make parties feel alive again landed well. Toward the end of the concert he even surprised the crowd by jumping into the party himself. After disappearing backstage for a swift costume change and distracting the audience with some more dramatics from Lockdown T, he launched into hit song ‘J’adore’ by springing out from the back of the crowd. This carried a sense of elation outwards of his energy and injected it straight into the entire venue.

Strandz made his love for his fans very clear. Before probably his most popular track ‘Us Against The World’, he dedicated a speech to their effort and individual solidarity matching the mentality driving the song. This love was mirrored straight back to him by the adoring fans and the warmth of concert has stuck with me ever since. The party aspect of the night depended on the crowd reaction and for a chilly winter evening in early December, they weren’t afraid to bring the heat. The concept was so successful yet so unique but it must not remain this way. London needs more of what Strandz sparked here.

All Photo credit : @acwbrocklesby 

Even if Rihanna decided not to drop another project for the rest of her life, I’d be completely at peace knowing she went out with a bang.

It’s been 10 years, and ANTI still doesn’t sound dated in the slightest; if anything, it feels more timeless now than it did when it came out in 2016. In fact, I have this theory that if the album dropped today, it would still resonate, maybe even more than it did back then because I think now we’ve been able to zoom out on Rihanna; not just as an artist, but as a person. A real person with a valid perspective, emotions, and a life lived. It felt harder for people to do that back then when she was known as this larger-than-life hitmaker, churning out albums almost every year since 2005 leading up to ANTI, barely taking any breaks, always in the public eye and drastically changing up her image and style for every era.

We built a pedestal for her, one of our own making, and then resented her for standing on it. We claimed we wanted something different from Rihanna, something “real for once,” and when she gave us that with ANTI, we didn’t recognize it and took it for granted because maybe subconsciously, we’d already decided who she was allowed to be.

 Almost every immediate critique of the album back then, read like we were too comfortable with the version of Rihanna we’d created, to make room for the version of her that actually existed. But it feels almost poetic that she left us to sit with this album and simmer in it for 10 years as if to forcefully say “This is me. Take it or leave it”

I think one of the main reasons ANTI felt (and still feels) different from the rest of Rihanna’s discography is that it was deeply personal in a way her previous work never quite was. From the intro on “Consideration,” she made it explicitly clear she was ready to do things her own way, even if that meant the music didn’t have to sound super polished and perfectly chart-ready, even if the ballads had voice cracks or she mumbled melodies on the tracks, even if the sound didn’t neatly fit into the genre boxes that already existed. In my opinion, ANTI nailed that contemporary R&B sound that so many artists have chased since, ushering in a new wave of genre-fluid, emotionally raw music. A precursor to that alternative R&B sound that has defined most of this decade.

The production on the album was so ahead of its time, and even though a single like “Work” was instantly digestible enough to cut through the charts, the entire album carries a certain grit and unapologetic IDGAF air that still feels radical. I’ll never get over that sultry guitar on “Kiss It Better,” the shimmery beat on “Sex With Me” (which I feel is EXTREMELY underrated by the way), the grungy guitar on “Woo” (which might be the sexiest song on the album), the haunting, ice-cold synths on “Needed Me”, every sonic choice down to her vocal delivery (even the Tame Impala cover) felt like HER. They weren’t perfect, but she delivered some of the most stunning, unguarded performances of her entire career. “Love on the Brain”? Insane.

If anything, ANTI proved that Rihanna wasn’t just a hitmaker or a “singles artist” (like some people say); she was fully capable of crafting a complete, cohesive body of work as well as the best in the industry.

The songs on here will sit with me forever, and if this truly is her last album, what a beautiful thing to leave us with: an offering so undeniably her that we’ll be holding onto it long after she’s moved on.

While last time, we were flabbergasted by Tems’ speech as she accepted a Grammy for Best African Music Performance, this year has us… Scratching our heads? I mean, it is hard to come back from nominations of Yemi Alade, Burna Boy, Asake, Wizkid, Davido and even Lojay all at once. But now, since the Grammy announcement in late 2025, as we truly get to dissect the nominations before us, have they put their best foot forward or are we as disconnected as ever?

Let’s have a quick reminder, shall we? 2026 nominations include ‘Love’ by Burna Boy, ‘With You’ by Davido featuring Omah Lay, ‘Gimme Dat’ by Ayra Starr featuring Wizkid, ‘Push 2 Start’ by Tyla, and ‘Hope & Love’ by Eddy Kenzo & Mehran Matin. We also have separate nominations for Best Global Music Album, namely ‘No Sign of Weakness’ by Burna Boy, ‘Éclairer le Monde’ by Youssou N'Dour and ‘Jerusalema’ by Angélique Kidjo. No disrespect to the nominees, but it is like they weren’t even trying.

To really understand the pathway it took, we must return to 2024, when the newly-formed category Best African Music Performance debuted and Tyla won the first round. As it was emphasized by the South African starlet herself during her speech, the continental music scene is far more than just a single bubble and while Aforbeats sits at the forefront, other genres such as Amapiano and French Afropop recently, have followed and taken a seat at the table, even reaching as far as the black diaspora in the United States. However, why is the phenomenon not being recognized and why are we seemingly taking one step forward just to take ten steps back?

What Happened Prior
We all witnessed Afrobeats rising into its global momentum. We all know that the movement really began in the early 2010s in the UK, as the black diaspora over there had its biggest ears and influence outside of the continent. We all understand that Afrobeat (not to be mistaken with Afrobeats) came first from Fela Kuti, before a newer version was introduced and taken shape by Ghanaians and then, recoined in Nigeria later on. What we didn’t foresee; however, is its pioneers and those who got to the fruits from their labour seemingly discontent to categorize themselves under the term Afrobeats and that’s when the confusion began. 

Whether it is Afrorave, Afroswings, Afro-fusion or Afro-depression, the movement appeared not to be unified behind the scenes and it really took a shot in the foot when Burna Boy denounced Aforbeats altogether, claiming that it “lacks substance.” Clearly, there’s nothing wrong with having an opinion but take it from the best example of black music that we have out there; Hip-Hop whether it was beatboxing, rap, street dance, etc… Came as a one package in its earliest days, before it could disperse into separate branches and that was a BIG mistake amongst Nigerian artists at the forefront.

That being said, some artists got the memo such as Rema rekindling with the term in public because he understood that to push music outside of the continent to international heights, it needed first to form into a solid ground. However, this attempt did not come without setbacks when recently in a HBO documentary, Wizkid did not recognize Afrobeats as his sound, without giving any subgenre or categorization aside from this to go with. You see where I’m going here? Everyone wants to build their own movement, some defined and others in a vacuum, but how can we have branches without the foot of its tree?

What Occurred Afterwards
You can’t create a single category for a single artist, it is just not going to happen. One could say that Odeal understood the lesson perfectly well, as he completely pivoted to R&B, although there was a time not too far ago, he wanted to be known as the pioneer of Alté. So artists are subminimally demanding more categorization, whilst neglecting the one categorization that the world has recognized them for, and as a result, thus genres of other regions such as Amapiano can not fully co-exist and must be placed with the rest of confused, one-bes, semi-existing sub-genres that a new one seems to come out every other day.

Why is this relevant to the Grammys, you must ask yourself? Such awards bring eyes and legitimacy to the music we adore. It offers a pathway for future artists to follow and most importantly, celebrates our artists for their contribution in the music industry. Well, as a result, the movement that began to take shape plummeted. We can already see a fall in relevancy when it comes to new singles, none of which can really capture every listener around the world like a ‘Calm Down’ in the past. Some may say it is a natural shift, others might say perhaps an afro-fatigue. But we have evidently past its peak and this lousy selection is a proof of it.

All eyes are no longer on African music altogether and therefore, less and less care is placed on its perseverance. Surely a Temz and a Tyla will be alright and have wonderful careers, but can the same be said to emerging Afrobeats artists? To the newer generations that are falling on more deaf ears as we speak?

If the only way to success for African artists is to jump on existing sounds or be early enough when we’re trending to qualify for a long-term career, then we have a problem here and such stages as the Grammys speak volume to the state of Afrobeats right now. Only time will tell whether we may regain our momentum, allowing other continental genres to take their place and join their Nigerian brothers and sisters in international recognition.

Analyzing His Mark Since Single ‘Komasava’ Shook the World to a Party Anthem

First of all, one thing must be made clear; Tanzanian artist, Simba as some may call him, Nasibu Abdul Juma Issack, better known to the world as Diamond Platnumz; his anchor in the music biz is as solid as a stone. East Africa has had a striving scene of its own for over decades now, from the likes of legendary Kenyan music group Sauti Sol and more–what we’re strictly arguing here is Diamond Platnumz as a music placeholder for the recent bridge, the vessel towards outside recognition in the broader English-speaking global audience. Now, shall we begin?

Giving credits where credits are due; Diamond’s numbers have always been up. Music aside though, one would say that the recent surge of Diamond’s comeback was when he became a part-reality star for Netflix reality series ‘Young, Famous & African.’ Like many would argue, this was the first time we were offered an inside look into the private lives of our most sought-after celebrities. However, it did not come without its challenges. If you did read Deeds' review of the show, then you would know that its cast echoed a lot of the negative stereotypes surrounding promiscuity, infidelity and unstable family unions that black people face across the world (None of which is the true representation of African values, of course). And Diamond was one of its willful participants.

That said, if the goal was to shed a light on his way, it worked. However, as his music began spreading more and more, so did the gossip and unnecessary noise. What is holding him back, you may ask? Well, his love for women to put it short–or the lack thereof. Diamond Platnumz is a famously-known playboy! But to be frank, it is the tabloid choosing to focus on his love status rather than his music that is truly hurting his career and image where it matters most.

Diamond is no stranger to hit songs. From his first commercial success ‘Number One (Remix)’ featuring Davido now over 10 years ago, to ‘Inama,’ ‘African Beauty,’ and the list goes on. When ‘Komasava,’ however, dropped in 2024, a song highly-inspired by Amapiano, Diamond Platnumz proved he could fuse any sound and make it his own. This single went everywhere. Dances were shared all across the internet and it seems all eyes were on Diamond. As time went by, the interest had rippled and the next trending African single made its rounds. Internet drama and more drama followed, little to do with music, putting an end to his momentum that if planned well, could have been prolonged to a whole studio album maybe.

Do not get it twisted; although a lot of the conversations surrounding Diamond Platnumz may be caused by his actions, a lot of it is also most likely manufactured. You see, many celebrities tend to lean towards gossip to keep themselves in the limelight and due to Diamond’s track record, it wouldn’t be surprising if his team were using similar methods. Does it help? Yes, of course. However, only for the short run. This is because for the higher ups to take one’s artistry seriously and take the time to invest outside of Diamond’s direct fanbase, which would mean shedding a broader light and benefitting the entire music scene in East Africa, it would mean that when googling Diamond Platnumz news, there should be other headlines charting up beside baby mama drama, so to speak.

So what is next for Diamond Platnumz you may ask? Well, we are all waiting with great anticipation, hoping that this year may bring the lion king a fresh perspective and new exciting records on the way. With a surprising appearance in Ciara’s project last year, we are sure Diamond will make this one even more memorable. 

There is a very specific, rose-colored fog settling over social media right now. where everyone is collectively yearning for 2016. It’s become the internet’s favorite "happy place." A time before the world felt quite so heavy, when our biggest collective worries were lighter, and the vibes were undeniably, consistently up.  Why 2016? Psychologically, it represents the calm before the storm of the late 2010s and early 2020s. But culturally, it was a massive shifting point, especially for Afrobeats.

While the world was doing the Mannequin Challenge, the Nigerian music scene was undergoing a quiet revolution. We were moving away from the frenetic pace of the early 2010s and settling into something smoother, cooler, and globally palatable. This was the birth of the "Pon Pon" sound, that mellow, mid-tempo, Ghanaian-influenced rhythm that made you want to lean back rather than sweat it out. The music sounded so good and exciting, Wizkid was pivoting to a global sound, Davido was experimenting with trap fusion, and producers like phantom and heavyweights like Tekno were rewriting the rules of what a "hit" sounded like. We aren't just missing the year; we are missing the soundtrack. These songs stood as cultural reset buttons and to deeply  understand why the nostalgia is so loud right now, you just have to look at the charts from back then. It was hit after hit, with zero skips. 

So, let’s unlock the time capsule. If you need a reason to smile today, or just want to remember what it felt like to scream "folake give me love" at the top of your lungs in a crowded club, here are the Top 20 Songs that Shaped Afrobeats in 2016.

1. Pana - Tekno

The undisputed anthem. If 2016 had a national anthem, this was it. Tekno was on a run that arguably hasn't been matched since. The slow build, the catchy hook, it was inescapable.

2. Mad Over You - Runtown

This track changed the BPM of the industry. It solidified the "Pon Pon" sound and proved that you didn't need high-tempo noise to shut down a party. Smooth, romantic, and lethal on the dancefloor.

3. Mama - Kizz Daniel

Kizz (then Kiss) Daniel could do no wrong. This was the wedding song, the club song, and the radio song all wrapped in one.

4. Iskaba - Wande Coal & DJ Tunez

"Nobody be like Wande Coal." This track is pure serotonin. Even now, if Iskaba drops, the energy in the room shifts instantly.

5. Who You Epp - Olamide

The slang that took over the streets. Olamide turned a casual question into a viral moment that had every rapper jumping on a cover.

6. Bhad Baddo Baddest - Falz, Olamide & Davido

A summit of heavyweights. This gave us one of the most quotable Davido lines in history ("Mr. Dele na my boy...").

7. Ariwo Ko - Adekunle Gold

While everyone was going pop, Adekunle Gold was grounding us with highlife fusion, reminding us that empty barrels make the most noise.

8. Daddy Yo - Wizkid

The beginning of the Starboy global era. This track introduced a new, reggaeton-infused flow that teased what was coming on Sounds from the Other Side.

9. Bank Alert - Psquare

Nostalgia within nostalgia. Psquare gave us that classic sound that reminded us why they were the biggest duo on the continent.

10. Oya Dab - DJ Enimoney ft Olamide

The Dab was the dance of the year, and Baddo gave it a home in Lagos. You couldn't go five minutes without seeing someone hit the dab to this.

11. Coolest Kid in Africa - Davido & Nasty C

Davido tapped into the South African trap wave, linking up with a young Nasty C to create something that felt gritty and international.

12. Pree Me - Burna Boy

Before the Grammy runs, Burna was pouring his heart out. This was a moody, introspective banger that hinted at the "African Giant" to come.

13. Soft Work - Falz

"We h’epp you to spend the money..." Falz was at the peak of his storytelling prowess here. A smooth track for the easy life.

14. Eleko - Mayorkun

The debut that launched a su⁶perstar. Mayorkun came out swinging under DMW, proving he wasn't a one-hit wonder.

15. Fada Fada - Phyno & Olamide

The ghetto gospel. This song transcended religion and region; it was played in churches and clubs with equal fervor.

16. Mungo Park - Korede Bello

Playful, catchy, and dominating the airwaves. Korede Bello had the Mavin pop formula down to a science.

17. Standing Ovation - Tiwa Savage & Olamide

Two kings and queens of their respective lanes. High energy and pure Lagos street vibes.

18. Kontrol - Maleek Berry

Maleek Berry stepped out from behind the production boards to drop this summer heater. The melody was infectious.

19. Hola Hola - Sugarboy

You couldn't escape this hook. It was the ultimate party starter that signaled the night was about to get loose.

20. Ohema - DJ Spinall & Mr Eazi

The "Banku" sound in full effect. Mr Eazi’s laid-back delivery paired with Spinall’s curation was a match made in heaven.

Christmas presents came late, but it was definitely worth the wait. "Big Wiz, Mr Money, you heard it here first, get ready for your Christmas presents this December"; that was DJ Tunez's response to Wizkid and Asake unveiling their first joint project on the Apple Music Show: Real Vol 1. Teased as "for the people" by Wizkid and originally announced to drop December 2025, it finally released this morning, January 23rd. The presents are here now, and this is the unboxing experience.

‍Vol 1, Part 1: Turbulence
"Kò sọ̀mọ̀ tí mo gbé tí ó kìn ké": Ọlọ́ládémí Asake, Mr Money, Àpọ́mọ́lékúnjaiyé. That was REAL. Mr Money starts off this track beautifully stating some of his facts on verse 1 flowing into the chorus: "Too many lies / Too many people wey no nice / Many many dey overwise / Me I no dey cap, ọmọ ṣ'oyè / Heavyweight, no be lightweight / No be lie, mo dúró kámpe / I no dey find wetin no concern me / Turbulence, I dey drop oh, Turbulence."

"See my lifestyle, èmi lóyè": Big Wiz steps in with his own REAL facts too. "Happy life with my family / I be minding my business, I no send none / We the talk on the town / We dey elevate / Never got too much to say, I no dey hear word / Turbulence."

This song is the EP intro and states the duo’s intentions clearly from the get-go: they are going to be real; they don't mind whatever turbulence it causes. In fact, they will drop the turbulence themselves. Looking critically, this has been the duo's philosophy, and it makes perfect sense why each track on this EP feels so smooth. No one held back.

The release of Turbulence was accompanied by a visually stunning video directed by Edgar Esteves and, of course, stunning wardrobe by Maria Sivyakova. Wizkid and Asake styled to reflect luxury, chic, and stunning silhouettes, perfectly accessorized. Definitely one for the books.

Vol 1, Part 2: Jogodo
Delivered as the first present from the collection, this song served as the lead single. Released on January 16th, it already made an immediate impact, becoming the highest opening-day stream for a collaboration in Spotify Nigeria history, debuting with over 1.3 million streams in its first 24 hours.

"No be today we dey jọgodo": Wizkid opens this Afrosexy track and delivers the first hook of this sweet melody. Escalawizzy follows up with his delivery through to the second verse: "Say tonight, you go dey know, know, know / Yépa, your body wanna tọ́ngọlọ́ / Baby no long talk, òṣèy, òṣèy / Ọmọ don dey dance, I dey feel am / So many things I fit show you / I dey hold you closely oh, yeah."

"Baby baby jọ̀wọ́, ọmọ Ọlọ́run, fine bobo": Ọlọ́ládé mi Asake, with too much effizy, starts tje second verse with a melody that immediately draws you in and then proceeds to kill the beat. "Me and my guys in Maybach-izzy / Skilly skilly, easy / Too much effizy, icy icy / Murder the beat." Ọlọ́ládé jẹ́ bí klíshì.

Wizkid and Asake float through this laid-back, chill beat seamlessly, and laid the expectations of what this project would deliver: Real Music.

Vol 1, Part 3: Iskolodo
Bueno, bueno... ¿y tú qué cuentas?
Now, in natural conversation for English speakers, this translates to: "Well, well... so, what's up with you?" or "Anyway... what do you have to tell me?" Well, Wizkid and Asake had a lot to tell us about what is happening, most importantly, that they are both in "Para Mode."

"Ìskòlòbò, I dey para / I dey hot, I'm on fire": Asake opens up verse 1 with high tension, delivering a beautiful melody on the incredible drums and percussions on this production. "Comot body, high tension / Big flex, money too hard / Lọ́lá Ọlọ́hun, lókè lókè / Double MM, big star / All of my guys them bad / Bo ń ṣe, ń ṣe kò má nice / Gbé sùn mọ̀ mí, no dey price." Mr Money on Para Mode.

Wizkid also enters the track in verse 2 on para mode, floating through this production, delivering an electric smooth melody with his vocals: "Big Wiz, I dey para / Ọmọ Balógun dọ̀dọ́n dàwà / Na only money elevate my mood / Everyday, I just dey my zone / Peace on my mind, every day we dey blessed/ Ordinary days, we dey feel like the best / Make you dey dance, oya jó, baby." Big Wiz on para mode.

Magicsticks, Asake, and Wizkid were on para mode with this one.

Vol 1, Part 4: Alaye!
Production: 12/10. Vocals: 10/10. This track feels like what Afrobeats is meant to sound like. The best treat saved for the last.

"Fàájì la wà repete, from the night to the morning, elélé; Wizkid opens up the track with his clear intent. Evidenced by his energy throughout the first verse into the hook: "Dance like say tomorrow no dey, baby o / Àgbádá pèlú diamonds on my neck / Aláyé want to trabáyè / Tó ná bí ti Faraday / The party no fit dull, àjẹ́! / Para dey for my body o / Balling like I'm Ronaldinho." Aláyé! Big Wiz just wants to have fun, I am sure this was definitely as fun a track to record and produce as it is to listen to.

"Ọlọ́run gbé mi ire trabáyè, ó ń chọ̀": Asake steps into the second verse delivering melodies, and clearly having fun with his verse: "Owó ni kókó ló ń sójí o / Big Wizzy na my G / Tòtórì, oya, dance now / Aláyé, do like gangster / Ó yín mọ́ mọ, baby, baddie / My baby, my melanin."
Aláyé! Asake’s melody has no competition.

Real Vol 1. Already one for the books. 
Since the joint project was initially announced, there had been high anticipation for its release, but having already recorded jogodo, which was teased late last year, and previous landmark collaborations like MMS and Bad girl, nobody is surprised at the quality of this project. Wizkid and Asake are flawless on each track, each carrying their own weight, each staying true and real to their own style. 

"As easy as it sounds, trust me, there is so much that goes into that," Wizkid once mentioned in a radio interview, speaking about the fact that for the Ayo album, they had like 300 songs, and only 19 made it to the official release. People seem to forget how long Wizkid has been doing this, at the highest levels of dedication to his craft and quality. He has put in the hours, the dedication, the ear for what works, this is what makes it seem so easy.

"I just dey blow, but ọmọ, I know my set"; Asake meant that when he said it in 2022, a mantra he used to describe his "overnight" success as a vision he evidently had been preparing and putting in the work for. In his come-up from theatrical arts to releasing his first official track 9 years ago, Mr Money's hunger and creative brilliance has only increased. His taste constantly elevates; he knows how much he put in to get here, and isn't slowing down anytime soon. And that perhaps is what makes this project so seamless: Big Wiz, Mr Money, two global music superstars on Para Mode. Real!

It would be incomplete to talk about Real, Vol. 1 without giving Magicsticks his well-deserved props. His fingerprints are all over the project, and his signature production; layered percussion, smooth melodies, and cohesive arrangements elevates every track.
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Like 2 Kings, ILGWT, Make E No Cause Fight, Scorpion Kings, RnB, Best of Both Worlds and now REAL Vol1, afrobeats definitely need more collaborative projects, the effects on the industry are undeniably massive and net positive. Feb 14 is coming, will we get Valentine's presents too? Here’s to Vol2, Vol3… and more collaborative projects that push the culture forward.

Real Vol1. Rating: 4.9/5

Glossary
Kò sọ̀mọ̀ tí mo gbé tí ó kìn ké: I always ensure my lover is pleased.
Àpọ́mọ́lékúnjaiyé: One of who takes enjoyment in the pleasure of his lover.
Mo dúró kámpe: I remain steadfast.
Èmi lóyè: I’m the one who understands.
Jọ̀wọ́: Please. A term of endearment or polite request.
Tọ́ngọlọ́: Body movement/sway type of dance.
Òṣèy: thank you or yes! Used to hype in this context.
Jẹ́ bí kilishi: Eat it up/deliver flawlessly. Literal meaning: Eat it like beef jerkey.
Para Mode: Being in an intense, fired-up state.
Aláyé: Street-smart person/boss. Someone who knows how to navigate the streets.
Ó ń cho:  "It's hitting/it's sweet." Expressing that something feels good.
Effizy: Showing off, flexing.
Comot body: To move or clear the way.
No long talk: No lengthy discussion needed.  Actions speak louder than words.
I no send: I'm unbothered.
I just dey blow: I'm just rising/becoming successful.
Na my G: Is my guy/my close friend. A term of brotherhood and loyalty.
Bueno, bueno... ¿y tú qué cuentas?: Well, well... so, what's up with you?" A casual greeting asking what's new.

His Come Up to Music Explained

David Manda Nzapa, better known to the internet as BabyDaiz is a 24 years old rapper and content creator based in Cape Town. In fact, he is the best rapper in town, he’d wash anybody. Also, he briefly dated the South African megastar Tyla. In addition, David is the niece of Congolese legend Fally Ipupa. One wouldn’t be surprised if he was also directly related to Nelson Mandela. All jokes aside, that being said, there’s a lot of rumours floating around, none of which is ever confirmed or fact checked, of course. Interestingly, a lot of this unnecessary noise can be traced back to David himself. Let me explain;
You see, BabyDaiz’ marketing strategy isn’t anything we haven’t already seen before, as more and more artists utilize Tik Tok, Instagram reels, Facebook or YouTube short clips not only to build content around their product; but also, to garner traction.

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It must have been in late 2024 when the algorithm first began to push David’s content to my Facebook feed and besides his charming appeal, like most consumers at the time, I was shocked to see that he was dating Tyla in some distant past, or was he? David never confirmed. However, what was clear is that he posted these throwback clips. I remember vividly, clicking on the profile page and being directed to BabyDaiz. Now why would anyone post about their ex? Better said, why would you post an ambiguous clip that can be easily interpreted as a past fling just to never clarify? Risky some may say, but the move overall worked because now, the rumoured ex-boyfriend drew attention and it was only a little bit of time until that attention maneuvered to the music.

Controversy sells and David learned it early on. The Cape Town rapper would consistently initiate bold statements on his Instagram stories and other social media platforms. No matter the reaction, all eyes on him were positive as long as it pushed him to the limelight and from there, he would let the music speak for itself. Clever, don’t you think? However this method did not come without any setbacks.

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Around the release of his biggest single yet ‘Matisa,’ much like his previous rollouts, David needed something to start the conversation. And so, he began to share what presumably is an edited clip of content creator Kai Cenat reacting to his music video. But the content wasn’t gullible enough, people didn’t buy into it. And so, that is when images started swirling of a young David seen with Fally Ipupa. Of course, the addition of the Congolese flag on his profiles and seemingly cosign of Fally himself, only perpetuated what we all had in mind; David must be his niece, which means he is, if not, part Congolese. Again, never to be confirmed.

So many questions came flooding in our minds such as, why would he only reveal his Congolese roots now? That being said, most of the reaction of a new audience that David had garnered were well-received and only capitulated him into greater stardom, as Congolese people are known to be patriotic and die hard fans. It isn’t that the rumour was unbelievable; however, David is specifically known for starting conspiracies to draw attention, without clearing the air or ever being direct. Much like his trail in rumours, there is no evidence to back his claims, as David keeps his parents’ identity private and so, BabyDaiz was now a Cape town with Congolese roots.

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This brings us to the 2026 single that everyone is seen dancing to, namely ‘Allonsy’ first pushed around the AFCON Cup with a borrowed memorable dance move that had the internet participating with great joy. At this point, the music finally began speaking for itself and what once needed controversies, rumours to push onto the algorithm could just be received majorly organically.

Whether you rate BabyDaiz’ come up or not, numbers don’t lie, the results are in and at this time, David has more than 1.80 million monthly listeners on YouTube Music. He won, he hustled and the needle fell to his favour. He is not a big cat by all means; however, the old mask of a young boy willing to do anything just for attention seems to be fading off, as an emerging artist is evolving before our eyes and setting his mark on the continent.

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How EsDeekid Leveraged His Momentum to a Record Deal

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, then you surely came across various conversations online surrounding the state of the UK underground scene after Liverpool-born rapper EsDeekid's alleged 30 million-deal departure. In my opinion, this feud had been brewing just after the ‘Conglomerate’ album release failed to elevate promising acts Len and Fimiguerrero to global stardom, but it really reached a boiling point when UK pioneer Lancey Foux shared his thoughts on ‘Eagle Eye,’ More or less, he’s a disappointed father; however, the part that went over listeners’ heads is when Lancey raps; “Yeah / I can talk like this 'cause I'm ten years in / lil' boy / I'm official.”

You see, the UK underground scene as we know it can be traced back. Emerging talents such as Jim Legxacy and YT only really started to take rise in 2023, with phenomenal projects dropping left and right from ‘Immigrant,’ ‘homeless nigga pop music,’ ‘#STILLSWAGGING,’ ‘LEGHOLAND,’ and many more. From the inside, it seemed like the scene was healing, British artists could be themselves again and everybody was supporting everybody. From the outside, London became a spectacle of a growing movement the internet wanted to get its hands on. The fashion sense, the slang, the culture–everything was of interest, but when the scene finally had something to look forward to, their acts were already pulling away and eyeing the other side of the fence.

As far as one can remember, and we’re keeping it strictly just music talks, the urban areas of London always had a grand fascination for American culture. To be more exact; Black American culture. You could be a Year 9 student in Peckham back in 2012-2015 and hear your peers arguing about Lil Reese this and Chief Keef that, knowing most of them will never travel to the US or visit the Chiraq they tenderly liked to imitate through clothing and appeal. Sure, the London scene wasn’t perfect, especially if you were a black yute and didn’t want to subscribe to Grime music and later on, UK drill. But that’s where artists like Lancey came into the picture and really started to shake things up a bit in terms of what was deemed as acceptable as black British music.

American Media & Black Culture Fascination

With bravery comes scrutiny and to this day, there’s still a side of London that doesn’t comprehend and doesn’t see the value in a “washed up” UK version of American music. And for the underground to really have a solid audience in its own ground, it would have demanded some time and care. However, as a starving artist, perhaps that is not the most convenient method. It was not long ago that YT admitted to having been teaching English to Korean students up to early 2024. And so, with the little bit of hype the first wave of UK underground had, they quickly catered to the US market.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that one of the only interviews you have of Jim is on an Canadian platform Kids Take Over. Quickly, other appearances from the birds of the same feathers followed, touching base with Our Generation Music, Montreality, Plaqueboymax, etc… What do they all have in common you may ask? They all catered to a majorly North American audience. It’s not that Lancey was not in touch with the US, still standing as one of the only UK rappers who could frequently tour over there with ease. Even going as far as having links back in the motherland in Nigeria and South Africa. But all of those reaches occurred organically and he still had as much of a foot in the UK, despite the hardship he faced early on. 

Looking back at most of these interactions, they look forced. The hosts don’t have a profound understanding of Black British music and can be perceived as just visitors to the scene–only having jumped the guns at the right moment it was trending. But who is at fault here? The journalist who is just doing their job or the act giving them access to a scene they have not even begun to see its true potential? Don’t take it for granted, it took Central Cee years until he could become big overseas. The grass appeared greener on the other side far too quickly and soon enough, they would realize that the curiosity of American youth mistaken for a core audience was short-lived.

The American effect is real and was at full display when Drake brought out Fakemink as a surprise guest at the Wireless festival in 2025. At that point, although the young half-Indian half-Algerian artist had somewhat of a following, he was without a doubt an underdog in the scene compared to the rest. “Who was this little dude with an awkward demeanor on stage that seemingly had grabbed everyone’s attention over the supposed crowd of underground artists everybody was rooting for?” And without a flinch, the eyes shifted; Fakemink had become the golden boy of London. A few cosigns later, and the young lad indeed became London’s saviour.

The White Saviour Allegation

To understand EsDeekid's rise, you really have to go back to the one song that put Fakemink on the map in the first place, namely ‘LV Sandals.’ It didn’t take long for the internet to realize that Fakemink was only a feature, and most of his songs were not from the touch of producer wraith9 that everyone grew to adore. He was a guest to that raving sound and had a much more mellow and melodic approach. This is evident as when Mink released a song with a similar energy, he then ended up deleting it days later, perhaps in response to an underwhelming output. Whereas when EsDeekid released his song ‘Century’ around the same time, his momentum only spread.

You mix this with internet trends and the urge for everyone to want to be first on a new wave, and you get yourself a winner. A masked boy with a strong accent up North was not put ahead because of his skin colour, he just jumped on the hook at the right time and right place. Will his momentum last? To put it nicely, only time can tell; however, from the looks of the crowd at his concerts singing the same LV sandals lyrics to every song he performs, it will surely take some much needed time for him to establish himself–even abroad. 

To be compared to movie star Timothé Chalamet during his Marty Supreme campaign was only the cherry on top of the cake. Now we’re talking massive eyes that even surpasses music and he took as much as advantage from this than from the pull that Fakemink generated through his feature as part of ‘LV Sandals.’ If you ask me as a non-exec of any existing label, I think that did the trick. I wouldn’t be surprised if Fakemink also signed a big check from his lavish travels and luxurious buys flaunted all over the internet.

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What’s the Take Away?

A great tragedy is most of the time, as a pioneer, you won’t get to taste the fruit of your own labour. Lancey had all the talent in the world to become a global phenomena; however, the constant American comparison, the lack of ground as a solo participant in that bubble at the time, coupled with now label issues, makes it difficult for him to wholeheartedly receive his flowers and being rewarded by a generous music deal abroad. Surely Jim will persevere if he keeps his head down and focuses on growing his core audience since unlike many of his peers, he is exceptionally talented in a way that transcends regions and we only get to witness those types of artists only a few times every other moon. And maybe Fimi may find his way as although he is often placed in the same bracket, he played it smart, focusing on growing his reach first in Europe through clever collaborations with other European artists, minimum media takes and even making an appearance on EsDeeKid’s project, making him a figure that can potentially stick through the new wave of underground UK music.

Speaking of the rest, their time in this game is limited. They didn’t play the long run and now, they have to answer for it. It seems like their tweets are making more noise than their actual songs and it is only a question of time whether the crowd they were so eager to impress will follow them for future releases or have already moved on to the next wave.

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The first major UK rap single to release in 2026 has come in the form of a mighty collaboration, bridging those who broke out of the ‘underground’ and those who drive it now. After ending 2025 with his own lead single, the unspoken godfather of the UK scene Lancey Foux has returned to trade verses with prodigal nephew of London rap, Finessekid on ‘Mightjuss’. 

This is not the first interaction between the two rappers. Back on the 10th of December, Lancey held his first event at Mixmag’s Club Blue, a major step into the DJ scene for the rapper. Despite not rapping much himself during the set, he brought out young Finessekid to perform a few songs including snippet ‘Semolina Pounded Yam’ and snippet-turned-hit ‘Coucoo’.

Before that, the collaboration had been teased by photos of the pair spotted both in the studio and on the set of the music video; unsurprisingly sporting the necessary Corteiz uniform. These photos have given hopeful fans much to speculate about given the extra presence of UK titan of rap, Skepta.

The song does not hold its punches and launches at us with an instant pre-chorus from veteran Lancey. After immediately name dropping cult luxury fashion brand Chrome Hearts, he leads us into the catchy eponymous chorus. Envisioning this track before listening, the intersection of the two seems unimaginable but the production allows for both to find a solid flow. The beat is breathless and dark, driven by industrial drums and an anxious, pounding bassline that keeps the energy tight throughout.

The two vie for attention over the course of the song, each keeping their usual style. Lancey uses his verse to map his global reach, hopping out of London to Ghana, Jamaica, China and Dubai, mirroring his many tours and personal travels. On the other hand, Finessekid keeps his tongue in cheek flavour, with bars such as: “Can't clone me, like Obi-Wan Kenobi, huh, you know them ones (Uh-huh) / Won't see me on TikTok on a funny man ting doing Get Ready With Me (Slow down, B)” It is this self-awareness and conversational reality which brings so much authenticity to Finessekid’s music and makes him such an exciting artist. Lancey sounds comfortable in the mentor role without dulling his edge, while Finessekid proves he can hold his own beside one of the scene’s most distinct voices.

As strong as the track is, it does feel carefully managed with both artists quite within their respective comfort zones. This keeps the song polished but stops it short of pushing any boundaries it had the potential to. ‘Mightjuss’ works well because of who is on it, not because it pushes either of them somewhere new. With both artists looking towards larger-scale projects in 2026, this is an exciting start to both of their years. 

all pictures credit @acwbrocklesby

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The Nigerian music industry is experiencing a generational shift like never before. While Afrobeats continues its global conquest, a new class of artists is emerging from the shadows of mainstream pop, young stars who speak directly to Nigeria's massive Gen Z demographic with a sound that feels both globally familiar and distinctly local.

The diversity and freshness this new class is introducing is good for the ecosystem. Artists like Mavo, Zaylevelten, Wavestar etc and their contemporaries aren't just making music, they're building a cultural bridge. It was always clear that whoever could add sufficient street identity to the mumble rap aesthetic, blend it with Alte's experimental edge, and infuse the Nigerian version of psychedelic rap would stand a big chance of winning. These artists represent the home-grown version of Juice WRLD, XXXTentacion, Trippie Redd, and NLE Choppa, stars who were already popular among Nigerian youth long before local alternatives emerged.

Nigeria has one of the biggest young populations in the world. This isn't just a demographic statistic, it's a cultural reality that demands representation. Our soft power and pop culture will benefit immensely from Gen Z stars who can add complexity and dynamism to our pop framework and rally young listeners who've felt underserved by the dominance of Afrobeats' more commercial sounds.

Take Mavo, for instance. His approach to melody and song structure borrows from the emo-rap playbook while maintaining Nigerian street credibility. Zaylevelten represents another facet of this movement: the fusion of trap sensibilities with Alte's genre-fluid experimentation. His willingness to switch flows, play with autotune in unconventional ways, and reference both Nigerian street life and global internet culture makes him emblematic of a generation that refuses to be boxed in by traditional genre boundaries.

Yet for all this potential, there's a glaring challenge: the absence of labels willing to take genuine risks on this sound. Nigeria's music industry has become increasingly conservative, with major labels chasing proven Afrobeats formulas and established artists rather than investing in the experimental, harder-to-categorize sounds that Gen Z craves. This new wave needs infrastructure, not just distribution deals, but labels that understand the culture, can provide real artist development, and have the patience to build careers rather than chase viral moments. The artists are ready. The audience is waiting. But the institutional support remains tentative at best.

Compare this to how Quality Control Music in Atlanta nurtured Lil Baby and Migos, or how Top Dawg Entertainment developed Kendrick Lamar labels that understood their artists' cultural context and gave them room to grow. Nigerian music needs similar institutions willing to invest in this emerging sound, even when it doesn't fit neatly into existing commercial categories.

But here's the critical point for both artists and any potential label partners: they need to focus on adding complexity and dynamism. Sharing a single flow isn't sustainable. The artists who will truly break through won't just be Nigerian versions of American rappers, they'll be innovators who take those influences and create something distinctly their own. The early trap wave in Nigeria suffered because too many artists sounded identical. The same risk exists now.

The winners in this new wave will be those who develop distinctive sonic identities rather than copying the SoundCloud rap formula wholesale, who tell authentically Nigerian stories while using global production aesthetics, who experiment with fusion by blending these influences with Afrobeats, Alte, and traditional Nigerian sounds, and who build genuine street credibility without losing the emotional openness that defines this generation's music.

This isn't just about music trends, it's about cultural representation. Nigerian Gen Z grew up bilingual in culture: watching Nollywood and Hollywood, listening to Wizkid and Lil Uzi Vert, navigating Lagos streets while scrolling through global TikTok trends. They deserve artists who reflect that duality. The global music industry has shown its hunger for new sounds from Nigeria. But the domestic audience, particularly young listeners, needs music that speaks to their specific experiences. Artists like Mavo and Zaylevelten are filling that gap, creating a space where young Nigerians don't have to choose between local pride and global aesthetics.

For this movement to sustain itself and contribute meaningfully to Nigeria's cultural ecosystem, it needs two things: artists who resist becoming carbon copies of each other or their international influences, and industry players willing to make long-term investments in this sound. The diversity and freshness being introduced now is valuable precisely because it's expanding the sonic palette of Nigerian music. But without proper institutional support, too many of these artists will remain underground, their potential untapped, their audiences underserved.

Nigeria's soft power on the global stage has been built on innovation, from Fela's Afrobeat to Wizkid and Burna Boy's modern Afrobeats. The next chapter will be written by artists who can speak to the largest young population in Africa with authenticity, complexity, and relentless creativity. But they'll need partners brave enough to bet on the future rather than just replicate the past. The foundation is there. The artists are emerging. Now comes the hard part: will the industry rise to meet the moment?
@femibksn

The UK underground as a collective movement has breached containment this year and reached heights which were before unimaginable. This momentum had previously been built up by artists such as Fakemink, Fimiguerrero and Lancey Foux, each beginning to get global recognition. However, it has recently been taken to the next level by one of the most exciting and mysterious conspiracies the music world has seen in a long time: Esdeekid is secretly Timotheé Chalamet. Far-fetched doesn’t begin to cover it. Finally after months of speculation, we have our answer, in the form of a remix. Where Charli XCX and Lorde worked it out on the remix last year during ‘BRAT’ summer, the two have finally revealed their separate identities with the ‘Marty Supreme’ actor dropping a verse on the viral track ‘4 Raws’ from Esdeekid’s hit debut album ‘Rebel’.

We all know it was too good to be true, too unthinkable and preposterous. Esdeekid is a scouser,  very proudly and loudly despite the masked appearance. Timotheé is one of the biggest actors in the world right now, born in New York to American-French parents. This was the real seduction of the mystery; if it was real, the payoff would have been enormous. Because it felt impossible, people wanted it to be true, and that unlikeliness is what pulled everyone in. 

Esdeekid’s rise in popularity and fame has been short but nothing short of meteoric. Releasing his first music under this name in May of 2024, he began his career with a run of singles starting with his own take on Rae Sremmurd’s wildly popular ‘Black Beatles’ from 2016. Since then, he has released his debut album ‘Rebel’ featuring many tracks alongside frequent collaborator Rico Ace, which achieved numbers never-before-seen in the UK underground culture. At the time of writing, the smash hit ‘Phantom’ sits at 121 million streams on Spotify. Esdeekid himself holds 13 million monthly listeners, rising from 10 million only a month ago. 

Timothee Chalamet has reached a point where he no longer needs introduction. After appearing Interstellar in 2014 as Matthew McConaughey’s son, he broke out fully in 2017 starring in Call Me By Your Name, a performance which earnt him an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor at just 22. From there he has gone from strength to strength, with a focus on his committed acting style. He certainly doesn’t claim to be a method actor, but has shown a love of committing to roles: learning languages, developing an incredible singing voice, picking up instruments and recently becoming a pro-level table tennis player for Marty Supreme. The commitment to the promotion of this movie has been incredible, with its merchandise being the hottest streetwear at the moment, Chalamet’s bodyguards with oversized table-tennis ball heads, and even an appearance with internet star Druski

The rumours began only just over a month ago as a mix of genuine curiosity and absurdist internet humor. The two do share a similar facial makeup (from what we can tell past Esdeekid’s omnipresent masking) and have a similar fashion sense - a penchant for Alexander McQueen scarves and layers on layers on layers. With Chalamet having been spotted at Fakemink’s concert in London, things all started to add up quickly. With these rumours rising from internet culture to real life news, recent interviewers have begun to question Chalamet on the subject. When asked on British radio station Heart FM, he said with a smile, “I got no comment on that… Two words: All will be revealed in due time.” Despite his lack of ability to count words, this added fuel to the growing fire. 

Not wanting to disappoint fans on either side with a half-hearted reveal of the perhaps sad truth, Chalamet and Esdeekid have come together on the ‘4 Raws’ remix to turn this massive online tornado of rumour into a cemented cultural moment. It is unknown whether the version will reach streaming services at the moment, the pair dropped it only on Instagram in a style reminiscent of the paramount of mysteriousness and non-chalance, Playboi Carti. Much like his run of singles leading up to ‘I AM MUSIC’ earlier this year, the song had a boisterous video of the two dripped out and masked up. It matches the vibe of the song perfectly and serves as further proof of the definite difference between the two.

It must be said, Timothee, or Lil Timmy Tim as he has been known in the rap game, had a pretty solid verse. In his recent awards speech, Chalamet rejected the usual modesty that actors are expected to perform. He spoke openly about ambition, about putting years of work into a role, and about wanting to be one of the greats not just in acting but in the world. That refusal to downplay effort mirrors something central to the underground right now. Artists like Esdeekid are driven, deliberate, and fully committed to their vision.

This is one of the most ambitious and ludicrous moments in the UK rap scene ever, not just the underground, and it feels like a turning point. Rarely has a single track combined mystery, celebrity, and internet culture in a way that makes the whole world watch. Some are still not convinced and maybe they shouldn’t be. Is it a clever editing trick, another layer to the conspiracy? AI can be very difficult to tell these days. I am happy to conclude this saga here, with the release of a track both the punchline to a huge internet in-joke and, believe it or not, a genuinely good listen.

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It is fair to say that for most listeners, young and impatient, A$AP Rocky’s latest album, ‘Don’t Be Dumb’, is defined mainly by the 8 year gap since his previous album. To put his album break into context, when his previous release ‘Testing’ came out, I was in my second year of high school and all I did was play Fortnite and listen to music. On the advent of his latest album, 2026’s ‘Don’t Be Dumb’, I sit here in my final year of university. Although I still do mainly play Fortnite and listen to music, the world has changed a lot since then, especially the rap world. Rappers have had entire careers since he last dropped an album, many of the big faces in the scene today were still using their bedrooms for studios in 2018. 

It must be said the man has been far from stagnant during this break, going from strength to strength both in and out of music. In 2025 alone he starred in two major motion pictures, the fever-dream thriller ‘If I Had Legs I'd Kick You’ and Spike Lee’s ‘Highest 2 Lowest’ both of which got positive reviews from critics and audiences. He also launched his own brand of whiskey and collaborated with many high-end brands including Gucci, Puma and Ray-Ban - where he became their first ever creative director. During all of this, Rocky dropped singles such as ‘Babushka Boi’, ‘Potato Salad’ and ‘Same Problems?’ with major features from the likes of Tyler, the Creator, Pharrell, and J. Cole, teasing fans with rap of all subgenres and over-whetting the appetite for a full length project. 

He doesn’t shy away from the break on Don’t Be Dumb, in fact the first lyric on the opening track ‘ORDER OF PROTECTION’ is “It's been a lil' while since I been in the league”. This is not even nearly stated as an apology and followed by “Last time I checked, we still in the lead” this is Rocky reminding you that despite the years of waiting, you are still listening to every song, every lyric. Setting the tone here, he retains it through the entire album and moves straight through to ‘HELICOPTER’. His flow slides on the beat so smoothly, not as hazy as his previous albums but more commanding and urgent. The production is simple but married to his confident delivery, it locks you in immediately.

His most infectious flow comes after a surprisingly rattled rant from the usually nonchalant Harlem rapper, on a song called ‘STOLE YA FLOW’. This is the strongest song on the album, with Rocky laser-focused and rapping at his highest level with a tight flow and dynamic delivery. The song is quite unsubtle in its disses, with many lines aimed towards rap titan Drake, probably following on from ‘Family Matters’ where Drake himself sent a few at Rocky while mainly dissing Kendrick. Within the first 30 seconds, Rocky jabs at many of Drake’s most sensitive issues: his lack of authenticity in identity and lyrics, his reportedly awful parenting skills, his sensitivity to disses, and his infamous ‘BBL’ referencing his multiple body enhancements. The crux of the song is the fact A$AP Rocky is now in a long-term, parental relationship with Rihanna, one of Drake’s most complex and public fumbles. The lyrics are tongue-in-cheek, which following the success of Kendrick Lamar’s ‘Not Like Us’ seems like the best way to insult Drake. With his effortless delivery and dense production, the song does also do well to stand separate from the beef and taking the drama out of it would still hold musical merit.

The album diverts down different paths here, first taking a turn for the soulful and yearning. Two unashamed love songs, ‘STAY HERE 4 LIFE’ with Brent Faiyaz and ‘PLAYA’, outline his happiness with monogamy and bright future with Rihanna and their three kids. These are instant classics for those in loving relationships and Brent Faiyaz is a cheat code for these, as proven by their 2023 collaboration ‘Outside All Night’. Following this, the album flickers from dark and industrial to indie and bright, the best of these being the single ‘PUNK ROCKY’, which already feels like it could dominate summer 2026. Unfortunately, this genre-hopping does not come across as deliberate or cohesive as it has in previous albums, making ‘Don’t Be Dumb’ feel cluttered and unfocussed. The run from ‘NO TRESSPASSING’ to ‘WHISKY (RELEASE ME)’ loses momentum in the album, and the switches in pace feel jarring rather than creative choices. There are standout songs here and there, but he spreads himself thin across genres rather than achieving in each. 

The most eccentric attempt comes in the form of ‘ROBBERY’, a collaboration with recent star Doechii. The track is based heavily on Caravan, a jazz standard by Duke Ellington first recorded all the way back in 1936. This switchup from his usual production creates a totally fresh atmosphere, almost cinematic with the anxious piano and dramatic performances from both artists. It is one of the only moments on the album where he takes a real risk and it very much pays off, it is a genuinely interesting and novel song. Because of how deliberate every part of his musical environment is, I don’t feel I am overanalysing this song by suggesting its link to the 2014 movie ‘Whiplash’ in which  ‘Caravan’ is famously central to the plot. The film depicts the struggles of an artist in achieving perfection, showing the time, dedication and sacrifice it takes to even get close. I can’t help but tie that to A$AP Rocky’s own attitude, shown by the time it has taken him to craft this album and him seeing that struggle as key to the process. 

Rocky’s judicious choice of features are esoteric as usual but do feel under-utilised. With other genius creatives such as Damon Albarn and rappers at the top of their game like Westside Gunn, their appearances feel half-baked and never core to the tracks they feature on, with Westside Gunn only providing adlibs. It would be so exciting to hear these three truly intertwine their styles, it is a great choice of collaboration but never quite seems more than the sum of its parts. This aspect means ‘Don’t Be Dumb’ loses the shine of a product of an eight-year wait and while it does feel carefully curated over time, it feels like a great idea never realised. 

Despite the album having a song named ‘THE END’, one of its weakest and most dragging, there are actually two more after that serving as a pre-emptive deluxe. This seems an odd move, but given all of the delays and complications in the album’s release it feels almost inevitable. With the electric and hard-hitting start to this album, I was very hopeful the feature from Tyler, The Creator would keep this energy and have that explosive sound, coming like Tyler’s ‘CORSO’ or something from his recent ‘Don’t Tap the Glass’ project focussed on body movement and taking no prisoners. Instead, ‘FISH N STEAK (WHAT IT IS)’ is far more laid-back, cruising around its verses and closing the album with smooth but still unapologetic performances from both rappers. 

The album overall does serve as an explicit reminder of A$AP Rocky’s place in the music scene, updating his position for 2026 as creative, ambitious and still demanding hype. With such an anticipated release, I do wish he had taken more risk and pushed the envelope slightly more, making every single song a moment for something new and exciting. Instead, it is a strong body of tracks, most of which feel worthy of a playlist. He is still at his coolest when he is at his most experimental and the tracks which showcase this side of him are the strongest. This would have justified more the long wait between albums, which for now feels more like a welcomed return rather than pushing him further into rap heritage. 

All image credits Elisa Hill, @flashedbyelisa

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Raves are a fast-growing cultural phenomenon disrupting the Nigerian nightlife scene. Electronic dance music, the central element of rave culture, is experiencing both a global resurgence and rapid local adoption. Afro-house, 3-step, and Gqom are gaining popularity among Nigerian audiences. 

In urban centers like Lagos, Group Therapy and Sweat It Out sell out arenas with over a thousand attendees. Despite this growth, raves continue to exist largely underground. Events like Nocturna Rave, founded in the much smaller city of Calabar, point to a widespread craving for new nightlife experiences beyond the country’s major cultural hubs.

Nocturna Rave was first held in June 2025. Born out of Kufreabasi Eyo’s need for a creative and organisational outlet, the event presented a space for the city’s aesthetes to gather, connect, and lose their inhibitions. But what began as a party with about eighty attendees quickly morphed into a movement that challenged the nightlife status quo.

By December, Nocturna Rave 2.0 took place, an edition regarded as a resounding success. Despite competing with several major events, including the Calabar Carnival, the party drew interest, recognition, and hundreds of guests from within and outside the city.

The night opened with Lipe’s Gqom-dominated set, peaked with Coldsound’s crowd-moving afrobeats remixes, and closed with Baby’s energetic spins on old-school, border-breaking hits. The drinks flowed, the mood soared, and the people swayed. But Nocturna Rave 2.0 was more than a night of dancing. It was the culmination of weeks of deliberate audience selection, music curation, and independent experiential production.

That work began months earlier, in September, when the Nocturna team decided that education and awareness would shape the buildup to the rave. With electronic dance music still unfamiliar to many in Calabar, and raves often conflated with mainstream club nights, the focus was to position the audience within the culture itself. Weekly Spotify jam sessions, social media content centered on raving, and a YouTube channel hosting unedited DJ sets gradually introduced city residents to the sound, ethos, and spirit of electronic music.

That groundwork began to transform Nocturna’s identity from an event into a dynamic community. As the campaign progressed, it became clear that people wanted to be part of Nocturna, not just attend it. Some offered support as private sponsors; others stepped in as graphic designers, promoters, or assistants. For many creatives, Nocturna became a channel through which they could contribute and be visible. At the first rave, there had been only one EDM DJ in Calabar but by November, that number had grown to three. DJ Venomm, Lipe, and Baby held the scene together at the pre-event Pop Up, marking a subtle but significant expansion of the local electronic music ecosystem.

While the community was taking shape on the ground, much of the work behind Nocturna Rave 2.0 was unfolding remotely. Most decisions were made from Lagos, and the bulk of the marketing was digital. In December, Kufreabasi Eyo returned to Calabar to join ground operations. The work became more tactile and urgent—creating video content, conducting sound, electricity, and lighting audits for the largely abandoned but fitting venue, Calabar Wakkis, and finally meeting in person the people she had only engaged with virtually. 

It was also the point at which organizational panic peaked. The team navigated internal tensions, including strategy disagreements, tight budgets, and ideas presented with little follow-through. They also dealt with external detractors that threatened the project’s success. Still, the mission remained the same.

When the night finally arrived, the effort was visible. Even with three power cuts, Nocturna Rave 2.0 was electric. Pasta (Motion) and Stirfry joined from Abuja, Raey and Nacci traveled in from Uyo, and Coldsound returned from Lagos to reconnect with the community he had helped build. The party stretched until dawn and someone even fell asleep on the stairs. Nocturna Rave had achieved its aim. It had brought a bold, immersive experience to the Calabar nightlife scene.

Photo credit: kmiiekpeyong

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Ady Suleiman is a 33-year-old British singer-songwriter of Zanzibari descent who seemed to have the brightest future ahead following his debut album ‘Memories.’ However, what was expected to be a steady rise to stardom instead became years of sonic absence. Almost a decade after his first release, Ady returns with his highly anticipated sophomore album ‘Chasing,’ offering an entirely new perspective on the world. This can all be traced back to a trip of a lifetime, namely returning to his roots in Zanzibar and reconnecting with the motherland.

We sat down with Ady to discuss the period of darkness he experienced, and how reconnecting with his family in both Kenya and Zanzibar helped him emerge from turmoil and ultimately inspired his new project.

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Can you introduce yourself to our audience?

Yes, I’m Ady Suleiman, a singer-songwriter who grew up in Nottingham, UK. I live in London now and I’ve got roots in Zanzibar (From my dad’s side).

Nottingham, interesting. Take us back to your childhood; how would you best describe your upbringing?

It was a really small town on the outskirts of Nottingham. I was a happy child to be fair; I used to skateboard a lot with my friends and I think it was great until you were a teenager around 16. There was always this feeling of getting out of the town, you know when you get to a certain age. Speaking for myself, it is not somewhere I saw myself staying. I knew when I got 18 years old or old enough to leave home, I wanted to go live in a city.   

I read that your father was a DJ. Out of curiosity, which artists and sounds were played in your household growing up?

My parents have always been great music lovers. I would say on my dad's side, I really got a lot of Bob Marley. He was a cornerstone for my dad. Due to the fact he was a DJ, he had a massive CD collection, and so any type of music I wanted to listen to, I would go get it from my dad. Every CD of Bob Marley I had at my disposal.

On my mom’s side, she’s British so she grew up listening to the Kinks, Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones, etc… My earliest memories of current music was Alicia Keys, I remember being super fond of her, Eminem, OutKast and 50 Cent. When I really got into music, it was Jimi Hendrix for me because I really wanted to play the guitar. When I discovered there was other music outside of my parents’ collection and the radio, it blew my mind a little bit. That is when I went into my own journey of Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, B.B. King, etc…

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Speaking of earliest memories, I remember being 15 years old, living with my father in Peckham, when the ‘So Lost’ music video came on TV. ‘State of Mind’ was a real bop for me back in 2015! That was my introduction to you. At what point did pursuing music begin to feel tangible for you?

No way! That’s awesome by the way! There were two switches; one was Amy Whinehouse. Seeing her first album being Jazz, Hip-Hop and soul blended together and she had the kind of success that she did, that made me think; “ok cool, you can make the music you actually want to make and still be commercially successful.” Before Amy, I thought you had to ‘sellout.’ I didn’t truly believe it was possible for me until I went to study music in Liverpool.

I think my second year of university, I really took it upon myself; “Now it’s really a good time to try your hardest to make a career out of it.” After this year, I knew I wasn’t going to get a job with a music degree. That’s when I started to do my first gigs as Ady Suleiman. Songs like ‘State of Mind’ were actually the first songs I ever wrote. When I first put out demos, I really got good responses. It got a lot of views for someone who was still unknown. Through that, the industry got a hold of me in a sense that I got messages from publishers, record labels and that solidified my confidence and belief within myself.

It’s crazy to hear that ‘State of Mind’ was one of your first songs ever recorded. Let’s rewind in time; it’s 2018, you were signed to Sony prior, you’re rubbing shoulders with the likes of Labrinth and you just released your debut album ‘Memories,’ where was your mindset during that period?

When it was out, I felt relieved because keeping it a buck, I wanted this record out before. I would have liked it to be released in 2015 or 2016. I think I signed my first deal in 2014 and so, I knew it was going to take a couple of years to produce the songs. Just because I didn’t feel like I got a hundred percent right with Sony; they were great, we just had different ideas on how to skin the cat, so to speak. I left the label which delayed the project coming out and I had to find new partners.

Your debut is a big deal. Some of my favourite records of artists’ debut albums are like ‘The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill,’ ‘Brown Sugar,’ ‘Frank’ . The nerves of knowing that this is my debut, I wanted to get it right.

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Similarly to all of the greats (You mentioned Lauryn Hill and D’Angelo), there’s a saying; “when we need our heroes most, they disappear.” Suddenly, there’s almost a decade of sonic absence. You released a few EPs here and there but there’s a noticeable shift. What happened?

Oh man, I wish I had a miseducation and then, I could disappear forever [laugh]. To be honest, it was a creative decision. I find it quite difficult to create and be ‘on.’ We live in a world where you have to share so much of your creative process and behind the scenes. There’s a huge demand to put out music quickly. I write the songs all myself, I am involved in the production and so, my music always takes some time. I always preferred making music away from noise.

I have gigged my debut record since the beginning of my career. I remember feeling like I brought myself up into a space I had the resources to go away and create. I wanted to disappear, I wanted to be offline for like 2 years, not do gigs and tap back into who I am as an artist and really do something special. Then, come back with a new set, new music, yeah that was my plan.

Little did I know that we would get on lockdown. The pandemic took 2 years of everyone’s lives. I work with live instruments and so, that had an impact on me. To be completely honest, it also has an effect on my mental state. What I didn’t anticipate missing was the gigs. When you get on tour, you have such live feedback from your audience and supporters, and it gives you a lift and the confidence to keep doing what you’re doing. In those 2 years, I didn’t have that. The longer it went on and the less interaction I had with my audience, the self-doubt grew. It amplified my fears.

Keeping it a buck, I also went through financial troubles because I’m independent and how can I fund my studio sessions if I’m not on tour or doing any gigs? You know, the pandemic wasn't great for a lot of musicians. I wasn’t making much in music so I had to find work. Something that was supposed to be an intentional 2-year break dragged on for 4 or 5 years. It was really tough.

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I really appreciate your honesty and you being vulnerable. On a lighter note, let’s talk about the trip that played a foundation in this new project ‘Chasing’ and ultimately changed your life; what persuaded you to travel to your fatherland?

This trip really changed everything for me if I’m being honest. In the pandemic, my father made contact again with the Kenyan side of the family. My great great-grandma was still alive at this point and I remember seeing an image of her in Mombasa and I was just thinking; “I need to go visit her.” I never met her, my first cousins and uncle in Kenya before in my life. I met my Zanzibar side, but not the Kenyan one.

Over the pandemic, you just thought a lot of people lost their lives and especially older people. My great grandma is still alive in Kenya, I need to go meet her because I’m going to regret it if I don’t. Since my dad had reached out and made contact with that side of the family again, I have to take this opportunity. As soon as the restrictions were lifted, I booked a flight to Kenya, Mombasa to see my Kenyan family and then, my Zanzibar family as well. This is because it has been 16 years since I was last in that part of the world.

I just can’t put into words what that felt like. Meeting so close relatives to you in Kenya and haven’t not met them my entire life. I felt ashamed to be honest and a bit embarrassed. They were so lovely. It was supposed to be a two week trip and I just stayed there in Zanzibar for 3 months until I ran out of my visa and had to leave. For my identity as well, it was really aligning. Growing up in this country, especially in a small town, I wouldn’t call it an identity crisis but it was to get back in touch with my blackness.You know, going to East Africa and reconnecting with my roots. I credit that trip to a lot really.

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Most people know about Zanzibar for its white beaches; but a few know about its pain embedded in its history. Even today, there’s still part of my own Swahili ancestry that I am uncovering. What can you tell us about the region and your connection to it?

The main thing I’ve learned is the kind of confidence in the way people attack the day, the way they deal with hardship. My family outlook came from a positive place. To be fair, they live day to day. They make most of each day. That’s the main thing that I took away from it. I’m getting so stressed with stuff I don’t really need to be stressed about. I need to be more grateful. That’s the one thing I will take away.

 I didn’t do a lot of historical trips since I was mainly with my family. I actually need to learn more about Zanzibar’s history. The island is known for its spice and it used to be a trading port. There’s a lot of Arabic influence since it is on the Coast. The country is 99% muslim and I grew up muslim so it was great to touch back with my faith. I really need the history of both Kenya and Zanzibar to be honest. 

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Ok, fair enough. A portion of your album was also recorded in Zanzibar, what was the process like?

When I left to go to East Africa, it wasn’t really in my mind to record it was to reconnect with family and my roots. However, because of how I felt when I got there, especially in Zanzibar, honestly I didn’t want to leave. So I came back to the UK and then, went back again at the end of the year. I flew my producer out there and he came and stayed with me for a couple of weeks. I just really felt like we will pull this record together in Zanzibar. I don’t know how to describe it but it was a space where I was able to reflect. It was a refuge to put everything together. At least half of the album was recorded there. Since that trip, I’ve been going back every year for at least 3 months. I’m super grateful for that time.

Personally, some of my favourite tracks on the album were ‘Brother’ and ‘Trouble’. What is something you would like for listeners to take away from this project?

Naturally, I share stuff, sometimes to my own detriment. I do it so that I can be seen as fully who I am as a person, in the hopes that you make connections with other people that feel the same or experience something similar to you. I think when you have a common ground, one is so that you don’t feel alone but also, it is easy to find your tribe and your own people. That’s my earliest memory when I wrote a song like ‘State of Mind,’ I thought like somebody else must feel like this too. All I want is for people to feel something.

Just when we had started to put the idea of major music project releases to rest—a few weeks before the end of last year—Wizkid and Asake, two of the most exciting acts this year, announced a joint tape set for release later this month. “Special announcement,” Wizkid bellowed, in the early hours of Friday morning last week during his appearance at the Apple Music Radio Takeover, wearing a dark sweater and oval-shaped sunglasses. “2025, Mr Money-Big Wiz project. And it drops this December,” he continued. At which point, Asake, wearing a dark t-shirt and a svelte chain, began to intersperse Wizkid’s address with encouraging quips: “Oh yes!” “Olorun!” “On God!”

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While this announcement took us all by surprise, in a sense, it seems only fitting. Both acts delivered an impressive year through a mix of high-impact musical collaborations and statement-making performances, including celebrated orchestral concerts in the US. This seemed to foreshadow new music, a project of sorts, which never quite materialized. In the case of Asake, anticipation for his project reached a fever pitch around the third quarter of this year. By then, he had relentlessly teased an album tentatively titled M$NEY through countless snippets and aesthetic revamps. With each new look—his scruffy era, his military garb era, his slicked blue hair era, his low cut era, his bald era, his corporate fit era—fans, well accustomed to guessing games celebrities often enact with their fans, would predict the imminence of the album, which would ultimately fail to materialize.

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December came and went without this project surfacing. Details on this new project remain sparse. All we have to speculate is the title: Real; and a new estimated timeline for release—sometime within the first quarter of this year, according to industry whispers. I however would advise against taking this as face value, Wizkid is notorious for making glib promises only to either deliver on them later than expected or throw them out the window. I still recall him, on the O2 stage during his 2021 performance with Burna Boy, promising to release B.D’OR at exactly midnight—the song dropped weeks after. 

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His magnum opus, Made in Lagos, arrived years after it was promised (thankfully, it was worth the wait.) There’s also his grand promise, after a Lagos performance in 2023, that fans would no longer have to pay to see him in Lagos. “With the kind of love you guys show me, it’s very unfair for me to do shows around the world and still make you guys pay to watch me perform. I want to make a promise tonight, this is the last time you’re ever going to pay to come to a Wizkid show.” This December, he performed at the Tafawa Balewa Stadium, with some regular tickets costing as high as 150 thousand Naira. The collaborative project and tour he announced with Davido in 2023, will probably never materialize given the increasingly strained relationship between the Afrobeats stars. There’s however good reason to believe that Asake and Wizkid’s joint tape will make it out of their hard drives: the duo have not just offered promises, they have begun a marketing campaign, starting with their Apple Music Radio Takeover appearance, to drum up anticipation for Real. 

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It’s unclear what format Wizkid and Asake’s imminent project will take, if it does indeed drop. An album, however, seems unlikely. Going by Wizkid’s proclivity for EPs that punctuate periods between his albums, Real will most likely be an EP, one replete with bangers given that it was initially scheduled to drop during the festive season. And if their previous collaborations—MMS, Bad Girl, and Getting Paid—anything to go by Real could wind up as one of the projects that will set the tone for 2026, which is already looking like an interesting year for music. 

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In the past few years, as podcasts have proliferated and embedded themselves in the fabric of culture, they've paradoxically become a punchline. Spend enough time on social media and you'll stumble upon exasperated harangues by people claiming society has had enough of podcasts. Spend some more time and perhaps you'll stumble into the corner of the internet where male podcasters are regarded as walking, breathing red flags. In this precinct of social media, while female podcasters aren't quite held with the same level of contempt, they're also treated with suspicion. The opening sentence of an essay by Naomi Ezenwa for Culture Custodian titled The Great Decline of Meaningful Conversation in Nigeria’s Media Space adequately captures the consensus on podcasts in this part of the world: “Everyone has a podcast—or is about to launch one. From living rooms to YouTube studios, microphones are plugged in, ring lights are on, and conversations are being recorded at a dizzying pace.”

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More insightful is the second paragraph, in which she takes on the question of whether the explosion in podcast popularity reflects increased consumption of the form. “As Nigeria’s talk media continues to grow, we must ask: is anyone actually listening, or is everybody just talking?” She writes. Spotify’s Top Podcast list, one of the many dispatches the company released last December to mark the end of the year, adds an interesting dimension to the conversation. The top five podcasts in Nigeria are: Apostle Femi Lazarus, Apostle Joshua Selman, I Said What I Said, The HonestBunch Podcast, and The Oyedepo Podcast. The obvious throughline is that a critical mass of podcasts here are faith-based. This becomes clearer when one glimpses the top ten podcasts, seven of which are faith-based. This observation has already begun to stir an array of conversations, everything from the outsized power religious figures wield over the country, to the dichotomy between the religious fervor that pulses through the country and our dysfunctional society. 

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The more salient and surprising observation however is that the seven putative faith-based podcasts on the list are in fact not really podcasts. As one of the more freewheeling media, there's hardly a single definition of what makes a podcast. Podcasts however share a few things in common. They tend to favour a conversational tone and are episodic. The archetypal podcast typically has anywhere between a single host and a small cohort who dispatch opinions or narratives into a microphone. Podcasts are typically built around the hosts, whose personalities, made manifest through podcast episodes, drive audience loyalty and shape the show’s sensibility. By contrast, the faith-based podcasts on the list are simply recordings of church services, lacking the conversational style or narrative structure that defines typical podcasts. 

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“Well, that still leaves three true podcasts in the top ten,” one might conclude. Except that in number 10 is a nondescript account that posts scraps and snippets of the wildly controversial internet personality Geh Geh, culled from all corners of the internet. Many of the episodes sound grainy and their runtimes range between two and eighteen minutes. Even more bizarre are the episode titles, which include: Four Signs Your Girlfriend is Into Hookup, Davido album is the Best in 2025, and You’re a Celebrity. This leaves I Said What I Said and The Honest Bunch Podcast, which sit at numbers 5 and 6 of the top ten list respectively, as the true podcasts in the top ten list. 

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While Spotify doesn’t release quantitative data on podcasts to the public—monthly listeners, streaming numbers—the paucity of true podcasts on Spotify’s Top Podcasts list suggests that despite the seeming ubiquity of the medium, podcast consumption in Nigeria remains low. One rebuttal to this assertion is that the overwhelming presence of Christian podcasts on Nigeria’s top podcast list is simply a function of Nigeria’s huge Christian population. This theory however falls apart once one looks to Kenya, which, despite a Christian population of roughly 85-90 percent of its total population (nearly double the percentage of Christians in Nigeria) has in its top Spotify podcast list a healthy mix of podcasts from genres as varied as romance, self-development, and comedy. In South Africa, a country whose Christian population makes up 80-84 percent of its population, a similar dynamic is at play. With podcasts like Trevor Noah’s What Now, Podcast and Chill with MacG, and True Crime South Africa in its top Spotify podcasts list, the nation displays a strong and healthy level of podcast consumption.

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Having established that despite the seeming ubiquity of podcasts in Nigeria, podcast consumption remains pitifully low. The question then becomes what the reason is for this dynamic. I suspect the problem is two-fold. On one hand, Nigerians haven’t yet adequately taken to the medium of podcasting. Winding down after a day of work or simply passing time by listening to a podcast are not widespread activities, especially considering our level of internet penetration which most studies place at around 50% of the population. A lot of work is still required to adequately sensitize Nigerians to the medium. This could take the form of targeted marketing campaigns, strategic partnerships with telcos to subsidize data for audio streaming, or even community-driven listening initiatives that demystify podcasts as a “niche” pastime.

On the other hand, the ecosystem itself has not matured enough to sustain widespread adoption. Discoverability remains poor, monetization pathways are uncertain, and creators often struggle to maintain consistency without institutional support. Until key players develop clearer infrastructures, such as platform-backed curation, local investment, and stable revenue models, the average Nigerian consumer is unlikely to see podcasting as an essential part of their media diet.

Still, this obscures the larger and more trenchant problem, which is that the vast majority of podcasts are focused on co-opting viral conversation topics and trends as opposed to cultivating any real sense of thematic identity or providing value to listeners. What emerges, then, is a glut of interchangeable shows, each chasing the same headlines, recycling the same talking points, and offering little that feels durable or necessary. In a media landscape saturated with familiar clattering, audiences have little incentive to commit their time to content that feels ephemeral, derivative, or totally unmoored from a coherent perspective.

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There’s something telling about how an artist chooses to close a year. 

Ara The Jay didn’t just stage his second annual end of year concert, NIMO LIVE; he made a statement. His live performance on December 20, 2025, at Alliance Française felt like a marker in motion, a moment that solidified his growth as a performer while pointing firmly toward what comes next. 

From the moment Ara walked on stage, there was a calm confidence in how he carried himself, someone fully comfortable in his space. He didn’t need to prove anything, and that, strangely, became the point. The way he moved, the way he interacted with the crowd, was enticing to say the least. 

This wasn’t just about running through songs from The Odyssey, his latest album. It was about how those songs have grown in a live setting. By the time the third set rolled in, a full run of Ara’s own records backed by a live band, the room felt locked in. You could hear it in the sing-alongs and see it in the way people leaned forward instead of reaching for their phones. The band added weight and warmth, letting familiar records breathe in new ways. 

The guest moments were thoughtfully placed. M.anifest and KiDi brought different textures to the stage, but nothing felt like a distraction. When newer voices like 99 Phaces and Ess Thee Legend performed, it felt like a real community rather than co-signing. 

Ara’s out-the-blue drumming set caught a lot of us off guard, in the best way possible! There was a collective “wait, since when?” in the room. It turns out Ara The Jay has been playing drums in church for years, and suddenly everything made sense. For a moment, it felt like watching someone unlock a new side of themselves in real time. 

Ara’s looks for the night matched the confidence of the performances: bold but unfussy, expressive without trying too hard. 

The production design quietly did its job in the background, which is exactly why it worked. The screens weren’t screaming for attention; they were telling a story, marked with distinct motion graphics on theme with The Odyssey album cover art. It all came together seamlessly almost without you noticing. 

The audience gave back what they were receiving. The energy stayed high, but more importantly, present. People were there to feel the show. That says a lot about where Ara The Jay sits culturally right now. 

Thinking back to the first Nimo Live, the growth is impossible to miss. This show felt more grounded, more assured. And if this is how Ara chooses to close chapters, it’s hard not to be curious about what a future NIMO LIVE III might look like.

As 2026 begins, this concert feels less like an ending and more like a blueprint. Ara The Jay is no longer just refining his sound; he’s shaping his live identity. If NIMO LIVE II is any indication, what lies ahead will be bigger, bolder, and even more intentional.

Zino Vinci, is an artist from Newham who’s work explores different themes such as friendship, romance and social issues. But this project specifically is an elevation of what makes him as a rapper so engaging to listen to.  His most recent project ‘Rap Is Art Vol 1’, exclusively on SoundCloud, has made a statement and has become popular with many rap fans. Its release reflects a time where it seems that hip-hop music is losing popularity in the mainstream and consumers no longer seem to find value in its art. This mixtape reiterates the importance of this form, and acts as a new life to Vinci’s musical career so far. Within this interview we discuss their inspirations, hip-hop’s importance and his experiences within the music industry as a rap artist. 

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What were your first interactions with music? 
From my parents, I'm Nigerian and they played a lot of Nigerian gospel music. I’m from a really small tribe in Nigeria called Isoko, so they played a lot of the music from there. It stood out to me because the language isn’t similar to what you would necessarily consider a Nigerian language to sound like. I always thought that was so beautiful. I have my older sister as well who is five years older than me and she played a lot of grime, Nicki Minaj, Rihanna and Beyonce. So it was a weird combination of a lot of songs. At this point, I wasn’t even listening to music, I was more so just hearing it in passing. I was playing wrestling games and listening to heavy metal. My friend told me about Drake and I thought he was really cool. Chief Keef was about for me during this time, and Meek Mill. Then I discovered a song called ‘Yonkers’ by Tyler The Creator and that was the first song that made me want to go and actually listen to music. 

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I really do hear the Drake influence, especially in this mixtape. What inspires you as a rapper? 
As a kid I always thought you had to be the baddest gangster to be a rapper and then you realise it's more so about expression and storytelling. I would see artists like Childish Gambino showcasing how you could be yourself and be the coolest rapper. Being a rapper is one of the coolest things you can be, every archetype of person deserves to be represented. 

I would get DM’s from younger people saying how they used to be afraid to share their love for comics and then saw me doing it and now feel more confident in showing that side of themselves. That’s what inspires me to help people be more confident in expressing themselves with who they really are.  I think that’s the most amazing thing about rap music, it's so interactive. You can know so much about your favourite artist about what they believe and love.

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‍Do you ever worry that people who listen to your music may know too much about you? 
I’m a pretty open book. I don't feel like there is anything I really have to hide. With music there’s always a new story to tell. I think that everyone is along for the journey. Kendrick Lamar has the ‘The Heart’ series. I think it’s so beautiful how you could listen to ‘The Heart Part One’ and hear him discuss how he’s an underground rapper trying to make it. Then ‘The Heart Part Two’, he’s talking about how they think he’s Tupac. ‘The Heart Part Three’, he’s talking about how he’s that guy. I, as a fan, was along for that journey. I was like 10 years old saying that Kendrick is the guy and now I'm older I was right. But I was along for the journey and I'll be there for the rest of my life. 

I think it’s crazy, because I would be talking to people and they mention something about me and I think “how do you even know this”? And they respond “you said it five times in a song”. Sometimes when you write these personal songs, it’s like you're in a trance you don't realise, it just flows out. To you, it's a common thing, but for someone else that’s new information. That made me realise that everything you say on a song is really important. I get that in hip-hop Hip Hop there are filler lines or you may inflate something. But people are listening to everything you're saying. Especially if you sell yourself as a lyrical artist. 

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Why did you decide to call this mixtape ‘Rap is Art’? 
I grew up in an era where every other rapper had a remix to ‘Black and Yellow’. We grew up on ‘Aint on Nuttin’, everyone was on the remix. That is an element of hip-hop that was just gone. But I was listening to the Fakemink song and I thought it was so cool, I thought the beat was incredible and I really enjoyed the cadence. So I rapped on it. 

I already had an idea of a tape and calling it something beautiful, like ‘every bar’s a brushstroke’ or something art related . Me saying ‘Rap is Art’ is like me saying “of course I’m an artist because rap is art”. When he [Fakemink] said “I'm not a rapper, I'm an artist”, it triggered something in my head. I just thought it was a bit mad coming from him. We know what it is though. I have never heard a painter say “I'm a painter not an artist”. It doesn't make any sense to me. Rap is a highbrow artform at its finest, it shouldn't be seen in any other light. I love hip-hop, it changed my life, it changed so many lives. It's one of the reasons why so many people care about music. Everyone has had a period of time where they were feeling low and they had a hip-hop anthem. I wanted to make the most hip-hoppy beautiful SoundCloud tape ever! 

Shot by Lovell Small

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What’s your favourite song? 
I love ‘ZSL Freestyle’. That’s my favourite one right now. 

When I first started rapping I was always under the conscious rapper banner. I never liked it. Because I thought it was too restricting. I prefer being called a “woke” rapper because that is just me being aware of social issues. Conscious feels like you know the answers to everything and for me and my music, I’m talking about different antidotes. When I did the ‘ZSL Freestyle’ I was just talking my shit, I’ve never done that before. In the past I was more so, “I can't say this, they’re going to say, you can't do this”. But I have grills and chains in all my videos. I dress in streetwear. I can look any way I want and still be aware of social issues and injustices and still be Z Saint Laurent. I played it to some of my female friends and they loved it. Z Saint Laurent is a different era I'm going in. Right now I’m trying to find the balance in having fun lyrics as well as informing people about life and my perspective. 

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Through the production choices it felt like you were drawing two worlds together. Showcasing the shared history that both Black Brits and Black Americans have through music. Was this by intention? 
Of course, Black Americans were so impactful with so many things. Hip-hop is a genre that was birthed by Black Americans. I even have an interlude by Sharloola who is an amazing poet. And she talks about how it was birthed by hundreds of years of oppression in America. Of course we have parallels, similar drum patterns back in Africa or sonics in Jamaica. But if we’re talking hip-hop it's a Black American thing. I will always be thankful to that part of that diaspora for making this a thing and welcoming so many people into doing it. 

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There are also some really vulnerable moments in this project. On songs like ‘Immortalised’ and ‘Don't lose your soul’. You discuss your relationship to the music industry. Why did you decide to include that? 
When I first got into the music industry I didn't necessarily know what I was getting myself into. If you're a young person and they give you money to do the thing you've been hoping your whole life to do, you assume it's going to be one way and it isn't like that. This isn’t a unique experience either, I've spoken to different artists and they have said the same thing. You think, “perhaps if I make the best music then I will be the best” and that’s not the case. As a human it can be really disheartening putting all your effort into something and not receiving anything back. Especially when people are like “you're going to be the best, trust me”. And I trusted it and it's not paying me back. There’s people who are working 9-5’s making music and now you're asking for more shifts because music isn’t working as much as it used to. Now you're stuck in a loop of hating your job. 

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The past year I didn't really enjoy rapping. I felt like it was more of a job. I saw it as a means to an end, rather than being inspired to make some music. I’m in Newham, East London. That's the poorest part of London and one of the worst places to live according to some statistics. I personally love it. I'm not leaving but it puts a lot of things in perspective. I don't want my mother to keep working as hard as she does, I don't want my dad to be working this hard. I want some sort of relief and I think that this is the avenue to get it. I love rap and I want to make an impact but bills have to be paid. You do not want to be impoverished for the rest of your life especially when you're so close. I can’t quite now im far too deep in it. 

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Do you think making this mixtape has changed your relationship to making music? 
Yes. It does make me cringe a bit when people say that ‘CEO of my friendship group’ is their favourite song. I made that song in 10 minutes in my boxers. But it’s nearly 10 million streams so clearly it connected with a lot of people. To me, it was a song of the time and I was very young, but I always wanted to be known for making tasteful music that made people think about how I pieced things together. I always wanted to be a rapper’s rapper. So when your biggest song doesn't reflect that you can feel eh. But I made it at the end of the day so I can't really complain, can I?

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On Shot by Lovell Small you discuss the consumers of rap music and how they may perceive it. How at times the people listening to the music may not fully understand it. Why did you choose to address this? 
I love ‘ZSL Freestyle’. That’s my favourite one right now. 
I was being mad woke in my own way. People ask me why I do the illuminati sign. But it’s not the Illuminati sign, it's the Roc nation sign . This is black excellence to me, Jay Z is a rapper who started off selling drugs, found his art form, and gave opportunities for other black people to do the same thing. That’s how we got J.Cole! I always thought it was weird that anytime a black person does anything the devil did it. Why would the illuminati pick a random rapper in New York to represent them? Even the ancient aliens theory. The idea that Africans are too dumb to make pyramids. I just think it's so dumb, it diminishes everything that Africans or Black people did and do.  Also, a lot of the fans care more about sonics over character. I just feel like I can’t listen to someone who in their sane mind is a bad person. That doesn’t align with me. 

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What is next after this mixtape? 
We’re doing another EP. The working title is ‘The Odyssey’. I started ‘The Odyssey’ before ‘Rap Is Art Vol.1’. There are a lot of introspective songs. I think being a woke rapper is so cool, I'm talking about subject matters I've never spoken on before. I have a song called ‘Long sleeved T-shirt’ and it speaks about self-harm and what comes with that. The long sleeved t-shirt could be used to cover up their scars but this long sleeved t-shirt can also be a metaphor for so many other things that we put up against to cover our scars. I’ve never written about things like this. ‘Rap is Art Vol 1’ is like the baby brother of what the next tape is going to be.

In an era defined by hyper curated trends and "follow the leader" mentalities, Gunna has emerged as a rare outlier: an artist standing firmly on his own, rebuilding his brand with a level of intentionality that feels more like a movement than a marketing strategy. As the North American leg of his Wun World Tour officially reached its peak this December, the narrative surrounding Gunna has shifted. He is no longer just a musician, he is the architect of a complete transformation across mind, body, and creative spirit.

The rebrand didn't start on a stage; it started within. Gunna's physical transformation, a journey of health and discipline, served as the catalyst for his mental evolution. He has traded the chaotic energy of the past for a lifestyle rooted in "conscious elevation." Whether discussing his views on relationships or his artistic legacy, he now speaks with a groundedness that reflects a man in total control of his story.

This isn't just about fitness; it's about a shift in frequency. By prioritizing health and maintaining a positive "spin" on his journey, his mind has followed his body's lead, creating a version of Gunna that is more focused, present, and, as 2025 has proven, simply unstoppable.

Nowhere was this evolution more apparent than the tour's massive stop in Los Angeles at the YouTube Theater. For Gunna, LA wasn't just another date on the calendar; it was a bridge building moment. The curation was intentional, bringing together global forces to show the breadth of his influence:

• The Global Bridge: Bringing out Asake highlighted Gunna's deep connection to the Afrobeats movement, proving his sound resonates on a global scale.
• The Hometown Vibe: Inviting LA native Wiz Khalifa grounded the high concept show in West Coast royalty, creating a "perfect composition" of complementary artists.

For those on the ground in Inglewood, the experience felt less like a concert and more like a cinematic event. Photographer Sean Muniz described the production as a "movie," noting that the set design was "insane." Departing from the standard empty stage, the production featured multiple interactive levels and rugged features. In a moment of pure theatrical tenacity, the team even integrated a dancer on a pole screwed directly into a massive "rock" feature on stage.

This immersive approach turned the arena into a living, breathing world, showcasing what can happen when a close knit team is on one accord. As the curtains fall on the North American leg, moving from the sold-out energy of Los Angeles to the final dates in the Pacific Northwest, the results speak for themselves. Between the community building Wunna Run Club 5K series and a setlist that deftly balanced "Drip Too Hard" classics with the soulful depth of his latest album, One of Wun, Gunna has successfully navigated his way to the top.

With the international leg heading to global markets in early 2026, the world is about to see what happens when an artist refuses to be stopped. If 2025 was the year of the rebuild, 2026 is shaping up to be the year of the reign.

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Picture Credits: @seanietsunami300

From meeting as young artists to sharing stages around the world, the energy of Scotts Maphuma and LeeMckrazy has always been undeniable. Whether you hear "Bathini bona" or "Bare ke LeemecKe!", you know that what you are going to get is going to be something special.

The two music sensations have dominated the Amapiano scene since they first met, and this year was no different. 2025 has seen the two continue to thrive, with their presence across various tracks, including 'Nakupenda', 'Sya'Waver', ‘HAMBA NABO', 'Ngibolekeni to 'Jealousy 'Ba Rata Monate' and' Zama Zama', just a few of the songs they have been part of. 

Their earliest collaborations came around the time when they met before either of their careers had taken off, where they would be in studios with the likes of Mellow and Sleazy and would be in camps alongside Cowboii making music together, the time in which songs like 'Bayazi' were made. Since then, they have maintained a relationship that has proven highly fruitful, extending beyond music to include them as people and individuals who are similar. "I think the reason we work well together and get on is because of our similar ways of growing up. Since we're both from the dusty streets of the township, and we share almost the same stories,  we understood each other fast." Scotts says about their relationship as people and what brings them together as collaborators. 

Comparisons have long existed between the two in their friendship and in how people view their music as individual artists. However, for both, this is neither something they feed into nor something that affects them. "We understand, and we know that we are two different brands, but we are on the same team, so you can't actually fight your teammate all the time. The goal is for both of us to win; it's a healthy competition for us." They share with me how they feel about the need to compare and pit people against one another. 

This year, their international influence grew, with two consecutive sold-out performances of their first UK headline shows in Birmingham and London, cementing their status as rising global talents. In this moment, we celebrate them as part of the new school of Amapiano artists who continue to push the genre forward. As individuals, they bring their own flair; together, they create something that stands out. There have always been talks, and the question has always been asked: when, if ever, will we get a combined project from the two, which, rightly so, feels like something fans and audiences would appreciate. Again, neither of them has missed this. However, in this context, it's all about timing. "We are just waiting for the right time to drop a joint project. We're excited to share new music with our fans and will announce it as soon as everything is set." Scotts shares with me.

The timing is essential, especially after a busy year for both of them. LeeMck released Krazyway (Agent 2.0) and his joint project with Khalil Harrison, SkeemSam. Meanwhile, Scotts dropped his recently released EP Piato (Chapter 1). The two of them are certainly putting in their hours and solidifying their contributions to the Amapiano genre. As we continue to track the genre and its evolution, this year has seen a shift: increased popularity has led to the emergence of 3-Step, which grew significantly throughout the year. Not to mention the constant evolution of experimenting with different elements in the mix. The roles that both ScottsMaphuma and LeeMckrazy play are notable, as they represent the new school of piano artists alongside their counterparts, including Cowboii and Mellow & Sleazy, who have also continued to bring a different flair to the scene. This is also reflected in where the sound is now. "Amapiano is very much bigger than us now, and the only thing that's gonna keep it moving is if we keep on working together. The sounds we make, the way we collaborate with other artists, can only continue to go." 

The results will continue to show in the years to come; however, this year is also a clear indicator that neither of them has plans to stop anytime soon. With an international focus, they plan to spread their message worldwide, taking the stage across Africa, Europe, and beyond. From what we have seen, this is more than achievable for them, and it is more than just about being able to do it and saying you did; it is also about seeing how far they can go and where they can reach. "We're looking at international collaborations, you know, because as an artist you need to spread your wings and see how far you can go," LeeMck says when speaking to where they see the next phase of their career going. 

As we speak, what exactly makes their ability to work together so successful is clear: the amount of respect they have for each other. Beyond being two of the buzzing Amapiano artists of the moment, there is a friendship that exists between them, and with that comes a level of respect that they have for each other, which is evident even as you see them together outside of the context of performing. Their camaraderie is what keeps them going as collaborators, driving them to do their best for themselves and for each other. "We believe in working together and loving what we do." Scotts shares on what makes them come together as collaborators. Their individual backgrounds in the genre contribute to this, as they bring different perspectives to the tale. For LeeMck, who began performing in choirs at a young age, his love of music grew there before he ventured into other forms. And for Scotts, who has always been a rhythm person and used to dance a lot, he infuses that energy and those vibes into his sound. You can see how it works for both of them in their current positions. 

The two met at a gig they were both booked to perform at, cementing a friendship and collaboration that has blossomed over the years. Not just as a pair when it comes to the sounds of "Bathini bona" or "Bare ke LeemecKe!", but also as individual artists, there is no doubt that their presence and contributions will continue to thrive, whether together or apart. 

Credits 
Photographer: Oulayma Conteh @ikuollie
Creative Director: CO.ZA / @Kosi_s
Producer: Seneo Mwamba @seneomwamba
Lighting: Seyi Opesan @jimmysjpeg
Production Assistant: Whitney Sanni @its.whit_
Brand PR:  @suurmgmt
Design: @shalemalone
CGI: @jr_ecko
Writer: Seneo Mwamba @seneomwamba
Special thanks: @sonymusic @taponeswa

To describe the atmosphere in the O2 Shepards Academy as electric feels like an understatement. That vibrant energy set the tone for Destin Conrad’s Love On Digital tour as it made its way to London before closing out in Manchester.​

The R&B song took to the stage in a maroon jumpsuit with black gloves and black shades, exuding full superstar vibes before entertaining the crowd for an hour and a half. The audience's energy was electric, singing along passionately to hits from his debut album and previous EPs, creating an immersive concert experience.

​The last time Destin took to the stage in London was in 2024, as part of his Submissive tour, playing two nights at Camden's KOKO and making an appearance at the Recipe Festival. Returning to this moment, it feels like a significant step forward in his journey. With nobody else on stage besides his two-piece band, he brought everything to the stage, showcasing his development.​

Before taking the stage, he was joined by Mack Keane and CARi, who served as the opening acts, warming up the crowd. CARI delivered a 30-minute set playing songs from her debut EP FLUX, including the tracks “Luvhiii”, Colder in June”, Bleeding”, as well as a cover of Ne-Yo’s “Closer”.

Opening the show with Mr E Destin, who performed several of his songs, the audience was fully engaged, singing along word for word. Moments of the show included album favourite “BAD BITCHES” which had the crowd singing at the top of their lungs, along with other hits like “JUMPIN”, "THE LAST TIME”, "DELUSSIONAL”, "PBS”, as well as “ ITS ONLY YOU”, "OUTTA CONTROL”, "BILL$ “, and "SAME MISTAKE”. Destin, who clearly appreciates London, was treated to not one but two guest appearances from friends kwn, who performed her EP standout “Do What I Say”, and Sasha Keable, who joined him fortheir track “AUCTION”.

​All in all, Destin’s show showcased his current position in the R&B space, as he delivered a well-worth-seeing performance of his GRAMMY Award-nominated album and let people know he has a lot more in store for where he is going. 

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Deeds Magazine had the honor of covering Saint & Citizen two-day takeover during Art Basel Miami, and it was unlike anything I've experienced. Running from high noon until late into the night, Saint & Citizen delivered a masterclass in curation, a "fashion oasis" that felt miles away from the typical Miami hustle. It transported guests to a tropical, jungle-like sanctuary where you didn't just attend, you lingered. From the moment I arrived, the production whispered one word: Intentionality. Every aspect, from the specific curation of art on the walls to the duration of panels, down to the sonic journey of the DJ sets, was meticulously crafted. The team behind this vision understands that true luxury is found in the details.

The visionaries steering this ship are founders Paula Grant and Corey Edness (Co-founder and Chief of A&R/Creative Services). The C-suite driving this cultural vehicle includes Deondre 'Trakmatik' Collins (COO), Jareiq "JQ" Kabara (Chief Brand Officer), Marina Skye (Creative Director), and Joey Harris (Chief of Talent and Cultural Relations). These aren't just organizers, they're multi-hyphenate cultural architects who have spent years in the trenches of creativity. Their chemistry was palpable in the event's execution: seamless, vibrant, and deeply community-driven.

This year's programming was built around the theme "The Living Originals", a celebration of the artists, designers, musicians, and thinkers shaping culture right now. Giving them their flowers while they're here to smell them. Across two days of expansive programming, Saint & Citizen created a multi-sensory ecosystem where art, fashion, film, music, and design converged. In a cultural moment where audiences are starving for lineage and connection, this event responded by building a space where creators lead and communities feel anchored to something deeper.

The programming at the Rubell Museum offered a refreshing pause from the typical Basel circuit, nowhere more so than during the session with Ghanaian visual futurist Prince Gyasi. He led a thought-provoking conversation on his mission to "redraw the image of Africa for the rest of the world." For too long, the story of Africa that reaches the public has not been told by Africans. It's beautiful to witness the intentionality of this generation reclaiming that narrative, not from a place of force, but from empathy and understanding.

Gyasi's session highlighted that Africa isn't just "one thing." By sharing these stories authentically, the global scale can finally take notice and honor the rich culture and artistic visionaries emerging from the continent. The intellectual energy continued with actor Damson Idris joining choreographer Jamaal Burkmar for an intimate dialogue on storytelling and the role of film as prophecy. This depth was mirrored by celebrated South African artist Nelson Makamo, who grounded the event in legacy with a session on how memory and portraiture shape emotional landscapes.

The conversation extended into the business of creativity with industry titans Emma Grede and LaQuan Smith, who dissected the nuances of cultural capital and the future of American luxury.

If the panels were the mind of the event, the music was its heartbeat. The reunion of Pusha T and Malice (The Clipse) was something far greater than a performance, it was a cultural reset. Seeing them on stage together was nostalgic, intentional, and undeniably powerful. The Clipse aren't just a rap group, they are fashion, they are visionaries, they are two individuals with something profound to say. Their impact spreads across different genres, races, and ages, and seeing them reunited reminded us that their art brings everyone together.

The energy remained high with global producer Kaytranada, who delivered a genre-blending set of house, funk, and hip-hop. Progressive R&B artist KWN took command of the main stage with a soulful performance of "Worst Behaviour," while DJ Spinall closed out the weekend by turning the venue into a massive dance circle. His high-energy, cross-continental set moved from Afrobeat to electronic, keeping the crowd locked in until the house lights finally came up.

Saint & Citizen is more than an event, it's a movement. It's a place that feels like home, where there's something for everyone to feel connected. You walk away feeling a richness, empowered to be more intentional in your own story and in every aspect of your life. It's a reminder that you don't have to wait for Art Basel to find this feeling, every day can feel like Saint & Citizen, wherever you're from.

Photographs by Danaér MENSAH @danaerxy

For nearly two decades, YouTube has been an undeniable force in the global export of African music, collapsing borders, building communities, and amplifying voices through the power of visual storytelling. As African music continues its worldwide ascent, I sat down with Addy Awofisayo, Head of Music for Sub-Saharan Africa at Google and YouTube, to unpack her behind-the-scenes role, the shifting dynamics of Africa's global influence, and what she believes lies ahead for the continent's creative economy.

Awofisayo's work sits at the intersection of culture, technology, and advocacy. Her mandate is simple yet expansive: to champion African music, elevate its creators, and strengthen the continent's creative ecosystem across YouTube and the wider Google network.
"I work across Google's music ecosystem to ensure that artists, songwriters, producers, labels, collection societies, and others see YouTube as their platform of choice, or at least one of the platforms they rely on to share and amplify their creative work," she explains.

When asked what pulled her into the media space, she smiles, almost as though the answer has been waiting her whole life.
"I think for me, it didn't even start with music. I was fascinated by storytelling, and I was fascinated by the creative space. As a kid, I loved Tales by Moonlight (a classic NTA TV show). I never missed it, wherever I was, I always found a way to watch it. But I never really saw it as a career.

"I started in finance at Microsoft for about five years, then pivoted to healthcare consulting, then to public policy. And it was within public policy that I started getting introduced to media, and media as a policy area. I became fascinated by what you can do in the media and entertainment space. That's when I realized, oh, I can channel my storytelling passion and also create a system for creatives that allows them to thrive, that allows their stories to get out there."

Addy is a lifelong music lover, driven by a passion for storytelling, but her journey did not begin at YouTube. She moved across disciplines: finance, healthcare, policy, media, before stepping fully into the creative space. In her words:
"I was always curious about the space, about the creative economy, the intellectual curiosity about how the space came to be—how people monetize, how people own their content, their IP. I just kept learning and growing my knowledge, surrounding myself with people already in the space who were doing well. I was working with the YouTube Music team whenever an opportunity showed up, even though that wasn't my role. My role was non-music. My role was YouTube Creator Ecosystem."

Today, Awofisayo is a defining influence behind some of the biggest African concert livestreams on YouTube, from Burna Boy's historic sold out night at Madison Square Garden to Rema, Wizkid, and Asake's landmark O2 Arena performances. I ask her what drives these projects.

She leans in. "When Burna Boy sold out Madison Square Garden, there was so much noise online, but if you weren't there physically, you couldn't grasp the magnitude. I thought, This moment shouldn't be confined to the walls of MSG. People deserved to experience it."
At the time, livestreaming wasn't common among African artists. "Most artists saw YouTube as a place to upload music videos or behind-the-scenes clips. Meanwhile, artists in the US and Latin America were livestreaming major concerts. I kept wondering, why isn't this happening for Africa?"

She pitched the idea to Burna Boy's team. "It was all 'maybes.' Maybe it would create excitement. Maybe it would build FOMO for his next show. But they believed in the idea, and it changed everything. Not only did you have the people at Madison Square Garden experiencing it, you had millions of people globally experiencing it and talking about it. There was just a greater appreciation for the art, for the culture, and for the space."

We further discussed where African music stands globally today, and what comes next for the continent.
"There are two examples I use: K-Pop and Latin music. Seeing how far those genres have come, but also understanding the data—what helped those genres get even bigger is that people from their home markets have easy access to the music. The hindrance we have in Africa is that we still don't have a lot of people online. A lot of people are not yet on digital platforms. So even though streaming is a thing now, we are barely scratching the surface when it comes to Africa.

"When that barrier breaks and more people from the home countries of these artists can stream their music, that's when we're going to see a big boom, more appreciation, more monetization, more tours, and more opportunities for artists.

When asked about the toughest part of her work, Awofisayo doesn't hesitate. "Infrastructure," she says plainly. "Our market just isn't ripe enough. We're not there yet in terms of infrastructure, regulation, and the policies needed to support the creative economy or IP."

"That makes it really challenging for creatives on the continent who are trying to grow and build an audience. For instance, with internet barriers, you can't reach as many people in your home country. So to monetize digitally, you have to start thinking about your export audience because that's where your money will come from."

An example she gives is live events: "Even down to attending shows, it's hard for people to pay a high ticket price because you're only tapping into a fraction of the market. So when people say, 'Why not make it free or discounted?' Well, if you do that, how are you supposed to put on a great show? How do you pay the right cameraman, videographer, editor? It becomes a whole industry and infrastructural issue."

So how does YouTube help dismantle the idea of Africa as a monolith?
"YouTube gives everyone a voice," she says. "Someone in Uganda can tell their own story and show the world what being Ugandan looks like. Ultimately, the responsibility lies with us, Africans, to tell our stories the way we want them to be seen. We must be the ones pushing our narrative."

As the year winds down, I ask Addy what she hopes African artists focus on moving forward.
First, she emphasizes sonic identity. "There is so much diversity in African music, our beats, our tones, our instruments. Artists should lean into that. That's what makes us distinct. When you hear Latin music or K-Pop, you immediately recognize it. African music has that same richness. Really showing that off is important because that's what makes us unique. We shouldn't be afraid to tap into what makes us distinct."

Then she turns to collaboration. "I love what collaborations have done for African music. They allow artists to tap into new fan bases and introduce global audiences to our sound. Look at Rema and Selena Gomez, or Ayra Starr and Rauw Alejandro, these collaborations expand fan bases, open new markets, and introduce more people to African music who otherwise may not have encountered it.

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As someone who discovered Zaylevelten in February this year, when he released Watching Me, I consider myself one of his early fans. (Earlier fans, those who found him through before 1t g0t crazy or l0cked 1n—tapes he released in 2024—might chafe at this characterization.) Lying on my bed, one cool evening after work, I performed the distinctly 21st-century ritual of scrolling through X, the platform formerly known as Twitter, dutifully scanning its interminable sea of text and visuals for my latest dopamine hit. After what felt like 5 minutes I stumbled upon a snippet that stopped me in my tracks. “‘Watching me’ out on all plats,” the caption read. In the video, which pulses with the slightly off-kilter and grimy feel we often see in US and UK underground scenes, two guys dressed in all black outfits prance around over a discordant track. The clip is fashionably upbeat. The aspect ratio is distorted so that every person or object looks unnaturally long and lyrics in the font of Charlie XCX’s Brat haphazardly pop up on the screen. I was immediately arrested by Zaylevelten’s but even I couldn’t predict his surreal rise this year.

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Since then, I’ve assiduously followed his blistering rise. Zaylevelten’s every release has sent shockwaves throughout the pop landscape, seemingly consolidating his base and strengthening the resolve of his antagonists. No more intense has this endless cycle of polarization been than in the days and weeks that followed the release of then 1t g0t crazy, a smorgasbord of tracks that foreground his distinctively Nigerian interpretation of Trap music, which he auspiciously released on the first of October this year. All of this has culminated in the deluxe edition of the project, cheekily titled then 1t g0t crazier. Indeed in this spruced-up edition, things get more intense. then 1t g0t crazier tops up its original version with the addition of four new tracks, two of which feature Odumodublvck and Mavo.

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One of the chief pleasures of then 1t g0t crazy is its textured exploration of contemporary youth through a decidedly Nigerian lens. Consider, Guide Pass, a standout track on the project. Here he trains his attention on the familiar situation of friendships coming to an abrupt end as a result of the change in fortunes of a member of the friendship group. In the song’s overture, he addresses whispers of rancor between him and a friend, clarifying that he has no problems with anyone, he has simply transcended the friendship. “No be say we get issue I don pass you,” he intones. 

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Other times he’s more cavalier, nonetheless his unbridled swagger persists. In Pawon, a callback to Olamide’s single of the same title, he conjures a decadent scene. Inebriated and throbbing with virility, presumably at the cusp of sexual relations with a woman, he sings: “Upstairs. Make she climb up. I don high up. I no fit calm down baby climb up,” he raps. Abruptly, the song cuts to a different scene. Here he’s faced with a different dilemma: he has just received a lump sum and is pleading with his interlocutor not to forget the password. As with many other Hip Hop acts he often dawdles along moral boundaries, exploring subjects such as fraud, sexism-addled sexual relations (pun very much intended), and drugs. Depending on what moral standards you uphold, some of these themes might come across as off-putting. And yet, his ceaseless interrogation of morally questionable themes, paired with his sensibility for slang and unbelievably smooth flows, confer his music with frisson. Listening to the project feels a bit like being in the first flush of youth, feeling like the world is your oyster and nothing is beyond reach.

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The four new additions on then 1t g0t crazier crackle with this familiar frisson. On Isa Lot, an ode to his, apparently, immense level of swagger, he regales himself and his audience with syrupy smooth flows and, occasionally, poignant lyrics that can catch one off guard. Between exuberant boasts and hilarious quips such as when he raps “Lamba anytime I’m yearning with a thot,” he sneaks in lines whose playful delivery might belie their depth: “Soft life from a hard life/ Tenski now my music don dey massive.” Wuse Tu, featuring Mavo and Lowzy, is similarly exhilarating. It’s just a shame that Idanski, which was already close to perfection, is undercut by a lackluster, bluster-riddled verse by Odumodublvck in the remix. 

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Earlier, I expressed astonishment at Zaylevelten’s increasingly rapid rise to fame. If a recent tweet he made is any indication, he also shares in this astonishment. “If someone told me I’d have over 5 songs touch a million streams by the end of this year I woulda called cap, we’ll keep going crazy I love y’all,” he writes. In explaining his rise, several theories abound. And yet, the most compelling one remains that his ascendancy owes something to his intrepid exploration of subjects that deeply resonate with young adults today.

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After six years building a career in Australia that earned her four ARIA Awards and international recognition, Zambian-born, Botswana-raised artist, Sampa The Great has relocated her professional base back to Southern Africa. She's bringing the expertise, relationships, and global perspective she gained abroad back to Zambia and Botswana, investing in the creative economies that shaped her in the first place.

At the center of it all is Nu Zamrock, Sampa's expansion of the genre pioneered by her relative George "Groovy Joe" Kunda. Where Zamrock fused rock, funk, and African rhythms in the 1970s, Nu Zamrock adds hip-hop, poetry, and soul to that foundation. Her 2026 album will tell that story fully, positioning her as a genre trailblazer expanding Zamrock into new territories. Ahead of that release, we sat with Sampa. This is that conversation.

Your "Return to Africa" movement is central to this moment in your career. What does "returning" mean to you when you've carried Zambia and Botswana with you everywhere, from Australia to global stages? How has your relationship with the continent evolved over the years?
I wouldn't say it is a return to Africa movement because I was born and raised in Africa. I would say it's a reclaiming of my professional career in the place that most inspired it. I was based in Australia for six years and started my professional career there after completing university studies, which is the reason I went to Australia in the first place.

After my music career started blowing up, I decided to stay there and grow my career. Now, I've decided to bring all I've learned in my time there and on global stages back to the places that inspired the dream in the first place, Zambia where I was born and Botswana where I was raised.

You call yourself Sampa The Great. When did you start using that name, and what does "greatness" mean to you? Has your definition changed over the years?
I started calling myself Sampa The Great as a reminder to be the greatest version of myself always. Over the years it has evolved to doing the best that I can always. That does not mean perfection or being the strongest or greatest person in the room. It's simply pushing to do your best at any given time and constantly working on it, regardless of the situation you're in.

Fashion has become a big part of your cultural presence. How do you see fashion as an extension of your artistry? What conversations do you want your presence in those spaces to spark?
I always say it was the Thandiswa Mazwais, the Angelique Kidjos, and the Angela Nyirendas of the world that made it cool to wear your traditional attire on stage, at awards, and in the mainstream. This was pre-Wakanda, because it definitely was a time where it wasn't the norm or was called corny.

I say that to say, it's something powerful about being in spaces in which people who look like you or who expressed their culture like you were not allowed in. It sparks the movement of African style and fashion belonging everywhere and having as much access to any and all spaces as everyone else. Not only because it's top tier, but also because it is the silent inspiration all fashion draws from.

"GOAT" on the HIM soundtrack sits alongside Denzel Curry, Tierra Whack, Gucci Mane. It's a powerful lineup. What was your creative process for contributing to a film soundtrack versus creating for an album? How did you approach it differently?
"GOAT" was a very exciting experience for me because I'm a huge fan of Jordan Peele's movies and Marlon Wayans. So to have my name attached to a project with them was amazing.

My goal was to express what the story of the movie is, the synopsis I was given, and how it relates to my life and industry. "What would it take to be the GOAT to you?" What are you willing to strive for, give up, and sometimes sacrifice? In this very political and dark world, the word sacrifice has more than one meaning. When it comes to the music industry, I really related to the topic of mentorship, fame, sacrifice, and being comfortable enough to be out of the spotlight and have my music touch and influence culture as my own definition of success.

You hosted the Lusaka Homecoming Block Party in November. What did that day need to feel like for you? What were you most excited about?
It needed to feel like the neighborhood kids have come together to celebrate and have a braai. Celebrate the creativity we all love. Celebrate the fact that we get to be creative in a somewhat conservative country and that there are like minded creatives who want to work and be in community with each other.

Gaming culture has embraced your music; you're featured on the EA Sports FC 26 soundtrack. How does seeing your work in a global video game impact your audience reach, and do you see gaming as a new platform for African artists?
I think it's amazing that EA Sports has added "Can't Hold Us" to the game. The reach of the gaming world is incredible and I'm super grateful I get to be a part of it. I feel like African artists definitely have a space in the gaming world and it is a new avenue for cultural storytelling that I'm excited for us to explore.

You're working with a new creative team: Nia Andrews directing, Iggy London on visuals, Abu Dumbuya on photography. What's changed about how you see yourself through their lens? Have they pulled something out of you that wasn't there before?
Collaborating with new and exciting creatives always brings the best out of you that you never saw. Iggy London has an amazing visual eye and a great knack for storytelling, and it's definitely a lane I've been growing myself and was able to expand through working with him.

Nia Andrews is an amazing creative director and, most importantly, what I call a creative interpreter who is able to weave the story and essence of the creative world into our work via world-building. A skill that was sharpened on my end through her in this project. Abu Dumbuya brought the spark and excitement to capturing moments from the visuals and interpreting looks for the single tracks. A very well-needed spark that completes the whole process of the visual story. But also my internal team, from management to label to project manager, have been integral to putting this vision to paper, and all this wouldn't have been possible without them.

With a growing global audience and major corporate campaigns, how do you keep it real on social media and when you're building community online? What's your approach to staying authentic as things get bigger?
I still post the majority of my posts online, so you definitely still hear my voice directly to the people who support and encourage me. It's always been that way, especially because it was social media that brought my music to the limelight.

Initially, in a music industry like Australia where there were not a lot of Black artists in the mainstream spotlight, it was social media that had the Will and Jada Pinkett Smiths, the Rhapsodys, and the Lauryn Hills share and acknowledge my work before the industry did. So I always keep talking directly to my online community close to my chest. At the end of the day, it is my voice.

Your 2026 album is coming, "the next era." What's the story you're dying to tell that you haven't been able to yet? What does this new chapter mean for you?
Not only am I related to a pioneer of one of the coolest genres in the world, George "Groovy Joe" Kunda, who is one of the pioneers of Zamrock, I myself am carrying on the legacy and pioneering and expanding the genre to new heights via Nu Zamrock. A story I'm super excited to tell next year!

Sampa is precise about her language. Not "returning" but "reclaiming." Not "perfection" but "doing your best at any given time." Not revival but evolution. These distinctions reveal an artist who understands that words shape worlds. Sampa The Great is reclaiming a genre, expanding its sonic possibilities while honoring its roots. And in that reclamation, she's building pathways for the next generation of Zambian artists to claim their sound, their stages, their futures.

The album arrives in 2026. Everything, the EA Sports placement, the HIM soundtrack, the Lusaka block parties, has been building toward that moment. Nu Zamrock gets its full statement, and Sampa steps fully into the legacy she's been carrying all along.

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In Duplicity, Boj reveals two contrasting sides of himself. The Alté pioneer once again reminds us why he is somebody who can never be slept on. Six albums into his career, he is still able to keep people on their toes while maintaining what has made him the innovator he is.

As for the album itself, when you first take it in, you can see a difference between this and his previous material. Sonically, visually, and thematically. The album itself represents two sides and explores the duality of its subject matter through the different emotions, thoughts, and feelings he shares across the project. “The whole concept of the album was born out of an argument,” he shares about the genesis of the album, in how the idea came to be. Its title and concept were determined very early in the album-making process, which is usually the opposite of his process. Even in setting the tone for the visuals and artwork, inspiration came from Peaky Blinders and The Godfather, allowing Boj to express all sides of himself. 

As a cultivator in the genesis of the Alté lifestyle, which expands beyond the genre of music and translates across music and fashion, and represents a different kind of creative expression. Boj is somebody who has never shied away from whatever it is that makes him stand out the way he does. As we meet this version of Boj, there is growth and elevation from what has already been established with his legacy and impact on the genre. Joined by his fellow collaborators on the album, he continues to show that, no matter the situation or circumstance, he shifts and expands what people see him as when it comes to his music and creativity

Meeting Boj in this era represents growth and self-realisation for him and reflects parts of himself that fans and audiences may not be familiar with. However, ever so accurate to himself, he still delivers a body of work that gives you the quality of music we have always come to love. 

First of all, congratulations on the new album. We were introduced to the sound of the album with the first two singles, ‘Shana’ and ‘ After Hours’. Why did you feel these were the first songs you wanted people to hear from the album?
Really and truly, those songs tell the album's story perfectly. There are two sides to me, and it fits the whole duplicity theme. One of the songs is really centred on love, and the other is just centred on enjoying life. It aligned well with the project's theme.

The tone of the album has a darker feel than what we have heard from you. So how did we get here?
The whole concept of the album was born out of an argument. So that's really why it feels like that. As an artist, it's very hard for me to express musically without it relating to what's going on in my life. That's what's come out like that, even down to the album cover; it's all dark.

As you were making the songs themselves, did it just transpire that they were all leaning towards a particular sound or theme? Or was it something that just came naturally as you were making the music?
For me, it was just what was happening at the time. It was just what we were creating; I just let it happen, and this is how it happened. This is the first time I've had my album name or the album theme before the project has been done. I had made only two songs before I had the name already. The name usually comes at the end for me; this is the first time it came first, and even then, I wasn't intentional about the mood of the songs. It was just what was coming. It was just how I felt.

Why did you choose Duplicity as the album title?
‍‍In the argument I was having. I was called duplicitous, and I didn't know what it meant. And then I went and checked what it meant, found out what it was, and was just like, this is everyone. This is true, maybe I'm a bit duplicitous, but I feel like everyone is to some extent, and I just needed to express that.

As a whole, did you feel like there was any, like, pressure or like, slight hesitation as to what people were going to think about hearing the album because it does feel different from your previous bodies of work, or was it something you were not thinking about?
I don't think that way; I just always assumed that people would accept everything I do. So I don't really think the other way. The only thing I was hesitant about was explaining why my album is the way it is. I'm usually a very private person. I don't really talk about what's really going on in my life, or anything like that. But then I also thought about the kind of person I'm trying to grow to be, which is to be honest and to let people in a bit more, let the fans in a bit more, see my character a bit more, let them kind of see what actually happens in my head. 

How did you find that this experience for this project differed from your previous bodies of work? And just like bringing together everything from the artwork, even like the artwork for the singles, how was it?
With this project, when I'm making one, I usually have a bunch of sessions with different producers, you know, and work with different people. But this time, I decided to lock in with junior, who's a producer I've worked with in the past on many records as well. We spent like a month together, first, just chilling, you know, doing things together. And then we locked in for a month again after that to start recording, I just really, really found, like, a synergy with him, where it's like he, he kind of now knows precisely what I want, even when I don't know what I want.

It was just a beautiful experience, also working with Tim Lyre, who's a great artist, great songwriter. He's also good at channelling, channelling me; he knows how to write like me. He's a rapper as well, so he elevates the writing, you know. So when I think about it, this album was actually very intentional.  With the visuals as well. It was like watching Peaky Blinders again, before I started working on the album. And that inspired me a lot as well.

You are never shy about collaborating, and there are a few people on the album. So, speak to us about the features and who worked with you on the album?
This project has the fewest number of features I've had on a project. And this is also because I usually make music from a very selfish place, where it's like, I do what I want to hear. Yeah, okay, yeah. But sometimes you listen to what your fans are saying. And there was always the talk about how they wanted to hear more of you on songs, on certain songs. And usually I don't like hearing myself all over the song. So this time, there was only Olamide, Mavo, Obongjayer, ODUMODUBLVCK, Pa Salieu, and SGaWD, and usually, there's only one song that I'm on by myself.

I grew up musically. I started music in a collaborative setting with my group, Dr B, and it was something, something where I'll do the hook, and then these other guys have the verses, or I'll do a verse on a song, or, you know, so that's how, that's how I really started. So from my first project, it was heavily collaborative,

With the music that you started making at the beginning of your career, and what that has evolved to what your sound is now, how do you feel that's changed, from where you were to where you are now? How do you define the music that you make now, as opposed to what we've known you, what you've known, what you've been known for throughout your career?
On a base level, not much has changed like that. Like anything, if you keep doing something over and over, you get better at it. Some of the melodies are stronger. Now the writing is a lot better. Now have the opportunity to work with, like, higher-level producers, you know, just stuff like that. On a base level, the sound is consistent; you know, when you hear a particular type of song, you'll be like, Okay, this, this sounds like something BOJ would be on. I've just gotten so much better at doing it. 

Within the sound of what Alté music is and the role that you've played in terms of what that genre is to people, and what people know of that genre when it comes to your music, and just like your impact on the sound. Is that something you often think about in relation to your legacy and everything you have achieved in your career?
First of all, we created that whole slang, that Alté slang. So first of all, that's where it starts. And I think we did, because we started really early, and, like, really young, as I got into this when I was 17, 18, we inspired a whole generation of artists due to our belief in ourselves. We just made other people, other artists, believe they could do something different. When we got in, the media was saying, This can't work here, you know, this is just too different And it really wasn't, everyone is telling us we like this, we like this a lot and then in the same breath, they're saying that we don't think it will work, but, but you're saying you like it, but you think it won't work. 

We just believed in ourselves and kept going. We motivated an entire generation and, to some extent, changed the sound in the mainstream, not just with the music, but also the style, the fashion, the music videos.  It wasn't like we were doing this at the time, trying to change things. We were doing what we liked and how we felt. That's what Alté expresses freely, without boundaries. 

‍Even doing this as young as you were, what would you say gave you the confidence or the boldness to say, even though this is different, and people haven't done this before, like, I'm just going to go and express the way I do?
It was really about leaving Nigeria, to be honest with you. We went to England really early in secondary school, around year eight. I went to England and did year nine. So those are really formative years, and we're coming from a place where there's a whole lot of rules in everything you do, the way you dress. You have to dress like this. You know, you have to act like this. You have to be a doctor. You have to, you know, that's, that's the world we came from. And then we get exposed to ourselves because we're thrown into boarding schools, and we now have a lot of freedom and autonomy. So you start thinking for yourself, and we did all that. We express in a way, we feel because now we have serious ammunition, because we're coming from the place, from the motherland, which is the actual source of this creativity. And then we now come to the other side, where it just gets refined, you know, and it gets refined, and you have the best of both worlds. And this is what it births. 

Even in that sort of expression that went beyond music and was in the fashion and clothes you were wearing, what would you say has been the influences of you know, even from what you've just spoken about, but even throughout your career, and just like throughout the years?
London played a big part in my fashion sense because we saw all sorts of things growing up. We came up in an era of Lil Wayne and Kanye West, and like One Direction, we had all of that, and we also had influences from Nigeria, with the traditional. We would wear dashikis with baggy jeans or skinny jeans, and Converse; traditional outfits with trainers; a suit and trainers, just different shit. So we just mixed everything. And just being around London, there's just some kind of fusion that happened, and that's just what it was. We weren't thinking about the shit deeply; it was just what was naturally coming out of us. 

What is this era speaking to where you are in your creativity? How do you feel?
This era represents growth and self-realisation. Even with Duplicity, it's me addressing an issue most people would run from. So it's growth in that sense that's like, Yo, man, okay, what's really going on here? This is something that you have to deal with by yourself, you know. It will help you become a better person when you figure it out. So that's what, that's what this period is for me right now: just in every part of my life, even with like, business-wise, music-wise, relationship-wise, everything-wise, just family-wise. You know, it's just spiritual growth in all aspects. Just trying, just trying in every way to grow, and being intentional about growing.

And what are you looking forward to next, from being in this place and seeing where the next version of where things are, is going?
Right now, I'm looking forward to starting my next project. I'm trying to drop Duplicity and move on to the next thing, and then my Festival, which I do, which has grown wildly over the past two years. So I'm looking forward to this year's edition and just seeing what happens. I don't overthink, I don't let myself think too much; I like living and just going with the flow. You don't know what could happen tomorrow. So you can have all these plans, and then something tragic happens tomorrow. So yeah, just trying to live in the moment and enjoy every minute.

Production Credits: 
Photographer: Will Ainsworth @will_ainsworth & Thomas James Morgan @mrtmorgan
Creative Director: Will Ainsworth @will_ainsworth
Project Manager: Zekaria Al-Bostani - @zek.snaps
Producer: Seneo Mwamba @SeneoMwamba
Post Production: Will Ainsworth @will_ainsworth
Photo Assistant: Nana K. Akwaboah: @nanakinq
Production Assistant: Theon Mafuta @1he0n
Grooming: Afsha Kabani @afshaartistry
Styling: Josh T Arimoro  @joshtarimoro
Stylist Assistant:  Festus Abo @styledbyabo & Bridget A @_afxia 
Art Director: Ashleigh Cooper @ashleighcooper_
Design: @ShalemAlone
BTS photographer: Joey Hoang @jhvisuals__
BTS Video: Treyvon Curtis-Crowl @Tspatcho
Writer: Seneo Mwamba @SeneoMwamba
PR: @emerald__east

We recently had the absolute pleasure of covering two days of Leon Thomas's recent press run in New York City. It was a whirlwind victory lap that felt less like a standard promotional tour and more like a coronation. Fresh off the release of his genre-bending EP PHOLKS and leading the R&B field with six nominations for the 2026 Grammy Awards, including Best New Artist and Album of the Year, Thomas is clearly solidifying his status as an enduring artistic force.

Witnessing him move between the intimate, retro allure of Soso's and the raw, streetwear-focused energy of his 40s & Shorties launch, one thing became clear: the way he pairs his sultry sound with that retro yet classic sense of fashion is no accident. It is a carefully curated mood, and it fits him perfectly.

The run kicked off with a one-night-only experience at Soso's officially dubbed "FOR THE PHOLKS." Hosted at Soso's (and bookable exclusively through DoorDash Reservations), the night was a proper homecoming.

Walking in, the vibe was immediate. Think Los Angeles' Sunset Strip crashing into New York's Studio 54. It had that perfect 70s flair mixed with a really intimate energy. The event was memorable, full of different people, vibes, and smiles, all there for one person. It felt authentic and not forced. Even if you came by yourself, you left with new friends and something to talk about. From the champagne on arrival to the funk-infused sounds, the whole night was a toast to community and creativity. Leon's personal style for the evening was impeccable, perfectly matching that retro-chic energy. He didn't just attend the event; he inhabited it.

The event was a celebration of PHOLKS, a seven-track project released under EZMNY/Motown Records. While many might mistake it for a standard love album on the first listen, it is actually a project about radical self-expression and the honesty of hearing your own intrusive thoughts.

Because Thomas has such an amazing voice, you don't always realize immediately what he is saying, but when you really listen, the delivery is everyday and honest. It reminds me of the 70s: that ability to mask heavy, real emotions in a beautiful groove. Musically, you can hear the influences of Earth, Wind & Fire, the Jackson 5, and Prince, along with touches of P-Funk. It's a sonic blend that feels seamless, bridging the gap between nostalgic soul and modern confession.
In my opinion, Leon shows his true range in how he can live between rock, soul, and R&B. Being able to connect with such a vast audience through that blend is beautiful. He's not just one thing; he's able to live in three different genres seamlessly.

Being an 80s baby myself, I am so grateful to Leon Thomas for bringing back a specific kind of energy. Listening to his music feels like being transported back to a more colorful era. Think great big Afros, bell-bottom pants (even though those are making a comeback), and people genuinely dancing in clubs. It feels like a modern take on the records my mom played when I was a child. It's beautiful because it strikes a perfect balance: retro yet modern, driven by his specific delivery. His style is honestly genius. You rarely see an artist infuse different genres and time periods this effortlessly.

On the second night, the energy shifted from the retro soul of Soso's to the "Essex" collection preview with 40s & Shorties. This event marked the release of a limited capsule collection designed to coincide with the EP.

Much like his music, the collection is deeply layered. It features graphic tees, a unique triple-zipper hoodie, and a standout hand-textured boro-style jacket. Leon described the collaboration as an exercise in instinct: "We wanted to build pieces that feel lived in, expressive, and honest, the same way the songs on PHOLKS came together."

Adem Niazi, co-owner of 40s & Shorties, noted that the clothing mirrors Leon's personal evolution. "Listening to PHOLKS, you could hear the layering: the rock, the soul, the funk," Niazi explained. "We decided to make garments that reflected that, natural yet experimental."

Watching Leon Thomas navigate these two distinct worlds, high-fashion streetwear and retro soul, it is hard to believe this is the same person known to many as a child actor on Broadway (The Lion King, The Color Purple) or a Nickelodeon star on Victorious.

His transition has been nothing short of remarkable. After years of shaping the sound of industry titans like Drake ("Love All") and SZA ("Snooze"), Thomas has successfully reintroduced himself as a boundary-pushing solo artist. With PHOLKS, he has proven that his sultry sounds and classic fashion are not just an aesthetic, but the authentic expression of an artist who has truly found his voice. The PHOLKS era is a masterclass in artistic evolution, and if these two nights in NYC were any indication, Leon Thomas isn't just having a moment. He's building a legacy.

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Photographs from Pholks event by Jelani Warner @Warners_work
Photographs from Essex event by Ethan Lopez @ethanfbaby

Where do I even begin?

We live in a time where, frankly, a lot of the music is about nothing. It has become background noise for parties, dancing around something mindless in a world where we desperately need our minds to be engaged. We need to see life clearly. As I get older, my search for music has shifted. I'm no longer just looking for a beat to distract me; I'm searching for music that makes me feel something. In a world filled with so much craziness and sadness, I want an escape, but I also want a connection. I want something positive, something I can be hopeful for.

Finally, Wale has delivered exactly that. His new album, Everything Is A Lot, is everything and more. In an era of singles and skippable tracks, I don't know many albums you can play from start to finish without reaching for your phone. This is most definitely one of the rare exceptions. You can feel the intentionality from the very first song to the second. It makes me reflect on how being intentional is the only way to truly impact and connect with an audience, and to gain a new audience simply by being amazing at what you do.
It takes a special listener to truly hear this, to understand the levels and complexity of putting together a stellar album. To hit every single emotion that a person could feel over a lifetime in one project is pure genius.

An artist like Wale is extremely intentional with every line, song choice, melody, sample, and even his features. A perfect example is the song "Big Head" featuring ODUMODUBLVCK. This collaboration feels incredibly purposeful. Wale, who is Nigerian-American, bridges the gap between two worlds. Growing up in America with Nigerian heritage myself, I found this track profound. It always seemed as if you had to be either African-American or African, that there was no connection between the two. For a long time, it felt like society tried very hard to obscure our identity. When you take away someone's culture, you inevitably affect their identity.

There was a recent interview where Wale's African identity was brought into question. I don't know if that conversation happened before or after this song was recorded, but I find it very interesting, and powerful, that he decided to include a track that so boldly highlights his lineage. It serves as a reminder that just because someone may not have been born on the soil, they are still very much of the culture. He is still very much Nigerian.
He doubles down on this intentionality on the track "YSF," featuring Teni & Seyi Vibez. Here, I feel as if he got even deeper into his artistic bag by using Nigerian slang, specifically adding the "O" at the end of each line. In Nigerian culture, the terminal "O" acts as an audible punctuation mark that amplifies the emotional weight of a statement, signaling emphasis, urgency, or warmth depending on the context. In my opinion, this is a clear statement to let people know, as well as his audience, that "I am of the culture and I understand the language."

The production itself mirrors this journey of self-discovery. The transition in melody throughout the music almost acts like a pause or a reset button to help you regain focus. A lot of times in life, we are trying to do better and learn more, but we get distracted and thrown off track. The way the music and melody change here brings you back to center, reminding you of what you are trying to achieve. I'll admit it: I'm a lover girl at heart, so I naturally gravitated toward the tracks that speak to that side of me. "City on Fire" and "Watching Us" instantly became my favorites. There is something deeply nostalgic about "Watching Us." The moment the sample hit, it took me right back to a specific time and place. I could vividly see the room I was in; I could feel the exact emotions I was grappling with back then.

But beyond the romance and nostalgia, there is a raw humanity here that we rarely see. Before I started working with celebrities, I used to think they were superhuman, that they had no real emotions and every day was a great day. I've learned that celebrities are people, too. They laugh, they cry, and they enjoy life. The difference is the enormous pressure they are under. They have people staring at them, critiquing their lives every day, and holding an expectation that they must always be happy. What makes an artist like Wale so impactful is that he has found a way to be authentically himself while navigating that pressure. Often, as long as a creator is creating, no one really asks if they are okay. But in this music, you can see the full complexity of his life.

He is extremely honest and vulnerable, particularly on the song "Blanco." He talks about drowning his sorrows, touching on the unfortunate reality of the music industry where alcohol is often used to dull inhibitions or force a good time. He speaks on people "joining his section," highlighting how sad it is that people often use others just to be part of the mix, a fleeting sense of belonging. He also touches on being nervous and vulnerable in love. We often say that men have to be hard and tough, but this album shines a light on how men actually think. It proves that this album isn't just for men; his music is for everybody, because these are emotions everyone has felt at some point in their lives.

There is a heavy reality to the song "Power and Problems." It's an inside look at what artists experience: the stress of fame and the people who might exploit you. But even a regular person can understand the need to question someone's motives and the necessity of protecting your energy, your legacy, and what you are building. The saying "to whom much is given, much is expected" is a very real thing. Being multifaceted comes with a tremendous responsibility. Being extraordinary is a gift, but it is also a heavy cross and burden to carry, especially when you are sometimes still figuring yourself out while others see your potential before you do. That is why the people around you during your healing stages are so crucial.

Fittingly, the album ends with the song "Lonely." On first glance, reading the title, I assumed it was ending on a low note, a confession of isolation. But actually, it's not that at all. It is a profound realization. It is the understanding that "I would rather be lonely outside," meaning standing apart in an industry where there aren't a lot of people like me. It is a declaration that he is totally okay in his own space. He has done the work. Even though it's hard, there is too much at stake to settle for anything less. To end on that note was brilliant. Well done.
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The title, Everything Is A Lot, makes complete sense to me. The world is heavy right now. We are constantly overstimulated. This album acknowledges that weight but offers us a place to set it down for a while. It is a reminder that even when everything is "a lot," there is still beauty to be found in the intentionality of art.

Growing up in an Angolan-Congolese household in South London, it’s hard to say which impacted Ceebo more, but the truth is you can hear the influence of both in his latest release, ‘Blair Babies’. The project covers the political reality of the generation born in the UK between 1997 and 2007, which, for anyone unfamiliar with British politics: the years Tony Blair served as Prime Minister of the UK. Since its invention decades ago, rap has always been a medium for criticising the conventional narrative and resisting against ‘the man,’ and Ceebo carries this torch forward, focusing on postcolonial London and the institutions that continue to stand against the latest generation to come of age. 

 Ceebo began recording music in 2019 but has been rapping since his playground days in secondary school, rapping cyphers with his friends in between classes. Following school, he attended Warwick University, graduating in 2024 with a degree in politics and sociology. This extended education allowed Ceebo to really develop his artistic voice alongside his academic foundations. This gives him a unique position in UK rap in his ability to address social issues from not only a position of lived experience but also of highly sophisticated education and nuanced understanding, leading to incredibly well-rounded projects. This was shown clearly in his first two major releases, ‘Bluquet’ in 2023 and ‘LAMBETHNOTLA’ the following year. This garnered him a cult following in the UK underground scene, all waiting with bated breath for his next album as hype built and built. Now 23, ‘Blair Babies’ comes at a very important moment in his career. 

 “Being Gen Z is engendered by a feeling of hopelessness in the face of a world built and shaped before our input.” Ceebo asserts in the spoken word opening track, preluding the album with an explanation of his intent. The decision to set the tone by breaking the barrier between artist and listener plants the narrative seeds of this album and shows his seriousness on the topic, establishing clarity and not just wanting the songs to speak for themselves where a message may have been lost. Following the monologue, we begin to roll through this beautiful sonic environment which is so far removed from the bleak message Ceebo was giving. 

This angelic movement quickly slides us into the first proper song of the album ‘captain roscoe with a crossbow’. Instead of his now-familiar voice, we are greeted with another familiar voice, a flip from Dizzee Rascal’s ‘Brand New Day’, the fourth track on 2003’s ‘Boy In Da Corner.’ The choice is not random. ‘Boy In Da Corner’ is a cornerstone album in UK rap history and certainly one most kids from London would have grown up with. Furthermore, the track ‘Brand New Day’ is certainly more on the conscious side of Dizzee’s usual braggadocio, and he uses the track to speak on very similar topics to that of this album, an unfiltered representation of spending your youth in London. By interpolating this track, Ceebo is acknowledging the musical shoulders he is standing on while also highlighting how little has changed in the decades since ‘Boy In Da Corner.’ It is a fantastic way to work both of these things in before even beginning to rap himself and shows how conscious Ceebo is with each track on this album. 

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 Not every song sits lowly in the problems of London and ‘buzzball summer’  is suited to a South London motive in mid-July, with production reminiscent of past British hits from the likes of Dave and J Hus. Being held in comparison to these megastars is nothing if not a compliment. The next song, ‘Pentecost of Living,’ with its beautiful beat juxtaposing brutally authentic lyrics, draws comparison to a new generation South London starboy, Jim Legxacy, who actually had a hand in the production. This exciting collaboration is so obvious and cohesive, it only generates hope for more from this pair in the future.  

The narrative chain holding this album together through various beat switches and vibe changes is true authenticity, and Ceebo is seemingly unphased about the idea of being utterly vulnerable. He uses songs like ‘the gospel (according to Tony Blair)’ and ‘always’ to convey this concept of a “Blair baby” to its fullest extent, with all the hopelessness and wasted potential that comes hand in hand with it. He doesn’t just say it himself; he even uses Blair’s own voice to underline how absurd the whole situation is. Hearing the voice of the man whose policies shaped so much of this landscape echo through an album about generational fallout makes the disconnect hard to ignore. It is almost surreal. The same political era that promised opportunity ended up producing conditions that boxed in so many young black men, and Ceebo does not want to hide this. 

 Not only defined by his strong political standpoint, Ceebo does prove his rapping ability on this album to great success. Songs like ‘018’ and ‘jook’ both have the feeling of an instant hit, the latter especially. With its smooth beat and punchy hook, it instantly conjures the idea of being performed live to a screaming crowd. 

 The final track, ‘Ceebo 3:16’ cements his message, with another monologue speaking on the problems faced by those in the UK now: racial tensions, cost of living, and numbing ourselves to what we have to overcome. Ceebo’s eloquent speech in both critical examination and political calls to action works well to undermine the excerpt of Blair we heard midway through the album. It completely resists the often conventional narratives surrounding young black men in London and instead pushes agency over fear. Blair had tried to define that generation during his leadership, and Ceebo aims to finally talk back, reclaiming his own narrative.

It’s very easy to give an album high acclaim if it holds a socially conscious political viewpoint because of its inherent moral validity. Ceebo goes far beyond this with ‘Blair Babies,’ producing a body of work both entrenched in strong progressive politics and also a richly produced and compelling sound. His authentic voice remains true throughout, and the effect of this is a cohesive and striking message, and all the while you want to move your body or at the very least bop your head slightly. On a first listen of Jim Legxacy’s ‘black british music (2025)’ earlier this year, I was excited at the prospect of a movement in which more artists join his cause of genuine, exciting representation of being British and what it means to feel hopeful in a time of great tension in the country. I asked who would be next, who would follow Jim forward? Ceebo has answered me.

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When you press play on "Favourite Girl",  the infectious beat gets you immediately. A year on since its release, the familiar sound of the Jamaican instrumental "Diwali Riddim" in the intro, which is sampled on the track, already sets dancefloors and any vibe before Darkoo ushers in the song's verse. The song itself and its remix, featuring Afrobeats superstar Rema, marked a new chapter in Darkoo's journey, inspired by her love for early-2000s music and Caribbean sounds. 

The song is unlike anything she has released. Taking the "Diwali Riddim" was a task in itself, considering the number of songs that have used that iconic beat since its release back in 2002. "For me, Diwali Riddim is one of the most iconic jungle rhythms. Taking a cue from how the Jamaicans and the Caribbeans do it: they have a beat, then loads of people jump on it, and they all go viral together. It was exciting for me to jump on such an iconic beat and sound," she shared about using the sound. However, for her, it was not about changing what people already recognise in the sound, but more about making it her own and bringing her own feel and vibe to the song. "My team and I—the writers—and all of us who worked on it were able to bring that to life.

Even in the production, we added many elements to make it feel newer and fresher. You can't change such an iconic beat, so we just added some stuff to give it that extra splash."  It was following this song and its follow-up single, "Right Now", which features Davido, that it became very clear what she wanted her sound to be for the EP. "I knew where I was going; I was very much in love with that early-2000s sound. That's all I listened to personally in my own playlist; it was mostly records from like 2000 to 2010. I was listening to the kind of music I wanted to make, and I wanted to write." She shares about the sonic inspiration of the EP. 

From taking "Diwali Riddim" on Favourite Girl" to taking P-Square's Gimme Dat on "Focus One Me (All The Sexy Girls)", even taking that song and creating what she did felt like a full circle moment for he, it being one of the songs she grew up on. "That was definitely a record I grew up listening to while living in Nigeria. That was a full-circle moment, being able to sample that record, knowing that I literally grew up listening to it as a little kid." How her inspirations have presented themselves in this project is something you can hear as you play through the project.  "It started in the studio, working and educating ourselves and falling in love with the early 2000s, and then realising that this is the kind of music we want to make. So we just decided to go in and go wild with it, creating our own vibe and styles." The results, which included a body of work that felt sonically unique and different from Darkoo's, who has been pursuing music since the age of 15.

It was not until 2019, with the release of her single "Gangsta" featuring One Acen, that her talent was showcased to the level that earned her three MOBO Award nominations. Fast forward almost a decade, and she took home the MOBO Award for Best Female Act as well as Song of the Year for Favourite Girl. Complete with a headline show at London's KOKO and taking the stage at Wireless Festival over the summer this year, has really felt like a celebration at this point in her career.

This moment in time has marked a shift in her artistry, not just sonically but across her creativity as a whole, from her MOBO Award performance to her sold-out show to all that we've seen of her over the past year. And as with anything, it is not just a matter of pure luck and good vibes. There has been a lot at play when it comes to the trials and tribulations that have been a part of Darkoo's journey. The artist's journey is never rainbows and daisies for anyone. For her, it has come with a variety of things, like experiencing depression and navigating her mental health journey, as well as being signed to a major label and then going independent. These are all the things that have taught her how to sustain and continue her journey. "I've taught myself a lot of patience and resilience. Every artist needs to have that. At the beginning, when things don't work out for you, you tend to give up, get tired, and get upset. But patience and resilience are the most important things for an artist that I've taught myself, as I've been in this industry and making music for 6 years." This has definitely paid off, especially in the moments over the last year when you see how her career has evolved and brought her into a different space. The evolution, as it has been, has not just happened in relation to her music but has translated across the different aspects of creativity and the way in which she has expressed herself.

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When it comes to her fashion, Darkoo is someone whose style has always shifted depending on the space she finds herself in. From her introduction from Gangsta up until her most recent release, when you look at her, you can see how, as her artistry and creativity have evolved, so has her fashion and the way in which she has been able to express herself when it comes to fashion. "From 'Gangster' to 2021, 2022, I feel like I really and truly had a modern Gangster look —we call it the F-boy look —with Armani jeans and all that type of stuff. I had the specific style —Gucci prints, all this hip-hop, era-specific look." She speaks to her signature style at the time, one that was synonymous with the period when she entered the music scene. The shift can be seen, and where you see her now is the result of her being more in touch with what she wears and how that is reflected in the type of clothes she wears. "I'll say around 2022 to 2023, then 2024, I feel like my style changed massively. I feel like I'm understanding the types of clothes I like to wear —working with different colours, bright and dark colours more, flared jeans and less skinny jeans, and things like that." 

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If you ask Darkoo what her new style era has been in this current moment, it very much lies in trying out new things and pushing herself, which has expanded beyond her music. This is very evident in the accompanying editorial images, which really took her beyond what she would choose for herself, as we reflect on the shoot that took place before our conversation. "It was definitely outside my comfort zone, but I feel like after the shoot, it made me start thinking about the kinds of styles and things that look good on me. And I want to push myself out of my comfort zone when it comes to how I dress and how I look. It was definitely amusing dressing up and doing things with a different theme, and the styling was definitely different from the kind of clothes I wear." The results feel like a different type of Darkoo, someone who was able to bring the vision to life, and channel a different energy which came out in the images. 

Beyond the clothes and the music, it is evident that this moment in Darkoo's artistic journey feels like a turning point in her career. When you take it beyond the music and all that she has achieved, her growth across the board has been incredible to see. Witnessing her moment at the MOBOs at the start of the year and the year comes to an end, it feels like she's gearing up for some more things that are no doubt on the horizon. Speaking to this and what feels next for her in following up on this moment, "I'm in a space figuring out what my next plans are." She shares with me as we wrap up our conversation. She is no stranger to what it means to really put yourself out there and see what comes of it. Where we are, there are certainly miles to go before she reaches her next destination. "A lot of fun has been had, and the next step is for me to mature into myself, into my music, into my brand. Let's get back in the studio now."

Production Credits

Photographer: Jonathan Tomlinso
Creative Director: Zekaria Al-Bostani
Producer: Seneo Mwamba
Production Assistant: Whitney Sanni
Stylist: Jacob R Levine
Styling Assistant: Demi Hali
Abbie Young @y0ungabz
MUA/Grooming: Afsha Kabani
Barber: @h_clipsit 
Movement Director: Ayanna Birch
BTS videographer: Geoffrey Konadu-Yiadom
BTS Video Editor: Abdulafeez Malik
BTS Photographer: @haruki.design
Design: @margokatesmith & @ShalemAlone
Writer: Seneo Mwamba
PR: @the828agency 

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Live at SILO Brooklyn, Arlo Parks unmasks the commonly concealed, uncanny music production process. One large table encompassed the entire stage’s set design, compact with massive MIDI keyboards, TASCAM cassette tape recorders, audio interfaces, decks, keyboards, and a guitar. Sunken red and soft white lights entrap the stage in her new experimental series,  ‘Sonic Exploration.’ 

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Born Anaïs Oluwatoyin Estelle Marinho, the L.A.-based and West London-raised singer/songwriter Arlo Parks curates a new way of sharing and experiencing music beyond the traditional performance scene. With shows slated for London, New York, and L.A., these intimate live shows awarded the audience an inside look at her intricate studio process, as she performed old songs from her repertoire layered with unreleased, new tracks. 

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The picturesque communal stage removed a natural hierarchy commonly present between the artist and the crowd, designing a curated closeness amongst the audience. Alongside producer/guitarist, Baird, ethereal meets ambience, layered with synthy, vintage-forward keys, mellow voice-overs, and futuristic textures, Arlo performs her unreleased track, ‘Heaven.’ This track mirrors Arlo’s light, smooth, emotional vocal approach, albeit with a new percussive, R&B-forward twist.

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She then backtracks to her 2023 hit featuring Phoebe Bridgers on ‘Pegasus,’ from the ‘My Soft Machine’ album. Under a calm, moody, nostalgic blue light with synchronized head nods and sways from the audience, this pop bop falls nothing short of simple, resonant genius. Arlo has a beautiful way of conveying deep emotion through her soft cadence, accompanied by her vulnerable lyricism. 

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“Blue jewels 'round your neck (Ooh) / You cool my distress (Ooh) / Loose cherries, hot breath

I'm overwhelmed (ready?). 

“I spun 'round and screamed, “‘I feel elated when you hold me’” / Then you got shy and beamed, “‘I think it's special that you told me’” / I think you're special 'cause you told me (Ready?) / I think you're special 'cause you told me / I think you're special 'cause you told me”

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Arlo released her new single ‘New Desire’ ahead of her ‘Sonic Exploration’ show as a teaser of her new sound experimentation over the past two years. Taking the stage lights back to sunken red, she hits the decks with Baird on the guitar, playing a light, uplifting harmony. This track showcases Arlo’s sonic evolution, marrying her signature lo-fi, pop sound with a new electronic, punchy percussive feel. A late-night session with Baird inspired this track, all culminating from a voice note she received in May that “made her feel like a teenager again - tender with new magic.” 

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Arlo comes full circle near the end of her show with her 2018 debut single ‘Cola,’ rocking the crowd with its heavy, unforgettable, groovy bassline. Currently at 48 million streams on Spotify, the funk-inspired record juxtaposes against the melancholy of unrequited, toxic love, as the crowd emphatically sang,   

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“So take your orchids / Elsewhere, elsewhere / I loved you to death / And now I don't really care

'Cause you're runnin' 'round over there / Yeah, you're runnin' 'round over there / And now I don't really care.”

Pulling the audience into Arlo’s new, current, and future musical worlds, the timeless nature of these live shows expands the culture of sharing music that is in process. In an age of chronic automation, the dismantling of overt polish and perfectionism retains the art of the fundamentally undone.

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Momentously dark, brooding, heavy piano chords strike a succession of strings at record timing, to open ‘History’ — the first cinematic track of the album. 

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“I'm from South where they struggle with sayin' your name / But it's easy when pronouncin' you dead on the scene… / You know it's history in the makin' (Ooh) / Shall we make it?”

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Setting a commanding tone for Dave’s new full-length project after almost four years, the sharp, melancholic wit that is persistent in Dave’s storytelling collectively complements James Blake’s spacey, atmospheric production. Together, they offer listeners an uncanny opportunity to momentarily exist in a live conversation between Dave and Dave’s inner psyche. As harmonious vocal ballads juxtapose the dark, emotive questioning on the state of one’s existence, UK rapper Dave elucidates deep introspection and emotional turbulence in ‘The Boy Who Played The Harp.’

Hailing from Brixton, South London, British-Nigerian artist Santan Dave, born David Orobosa Omoregie, emerged onto the rap scene in 2015. His brilliantly precise freestyle on the underground rap channel Blackbox fused anecdotes of his real-life struggles into an enticingly hypnotic rap cadence– resonating with listeners drawn to his authentic delivery. The tenor of his lyricism narrates the realities of growing up in the Streatham district in South London, where a broken criminal justice system directly impacted his family and upbringing. Through the years, he has built a massive base: from winning a Mercury Prize for his release of ‘Psychodrama’ in 2019, to securing a MOBO award for his sophomore studio album, ‘We’re All Alone in This Together.’

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Dave bases the album’s title on Biblical King David, who plays the harp in the Book of Samuel to soothe King Saul’s evil spirits and demons. The harp’s power to relieve Saul’s darkness parallels Dave’s strong connection to music and the enormity of its ability to dispel deep, complex emotions. This theme expands across the album as Dave unravels the varying depths of his anxieties – a damaging criminal justice system, an increasingly rushed and algorithmic-focused creative process, and the existential weight of the passage of time. 

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Already charting at #5 on the UK Official Singles Chart, Tems and Dave collaborate on ‘Raindance’ – a light, sweet record fusing afrobeats, afroswing, and rap. Dave’s heavy cadence and Tems' soft vocals provide a colorful texture to the song, indicative of the creatively expansive approach he brings to his records. 

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‘Selfish’ runs almost counter to the energy in ‘Raindance’ – where a haunting piano follows a descriptive narrative throughline of Dave’s pensive fears of never finding love, hesitance of therapy’s efficacy, and anxieties of running out of time. He introspects on a series of what-ifs:

‍“What if I'm selfish? / What if the kids just wanna be kids / What if my fear of doin' it wrong's the reason I haven't been doin' it right? / What if I never find love? / What if I'm damaged? Or what if I waited too long / Or what if I'm faded? Or what if anxiety's growin' inside me / That I might have left all my best years behind me? / Or what if I'm scared as I touch twenty-seven / That you don't appear in my idea of heaven?”

Building on themes of introspection, one of the most brilliant moments on this project is ‘Chapter 16.’ Featuring Kano with Dave, their back-and-forth banter almost mimics an off-guard, unscripted conversation between two friends simply catching up. 

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Dave: I moved out West, and it's nice in these days, we drivin'

Kano: Ah, your lifestyle bougie (Ah), lifestyle bougie (Ah, cool)

           I used to push a silver Porsche with two seats 

Dave: (Of course you did)

Kano: Leatherbacks, cosy baby seats in the SUV

           You know I've been Naij' and I've never had Egusi

Dave: (So, blud, what was you eatin'?)

Kano: Fried plantin

Dave: You ain't have the pepper soup, G? And it's "Plantain" 

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Dave has always looked up to Kano, one of East London’s top grime rappers. While chatting about pepper soup, egusi, and the correct pronunciation of plantain, Dave delves into deeper ruminations on his hesitations, reservations, and general obscurities he wrestles with as an artist in this generation. What does it mean to excel tremendously as a rap artist in a world that is simultaneously on fire? 

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Kano encourages Dave to remember the power of presence, community, and perspective, especially in an unforgiving music industry. 

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“You got a lot of years ahead of you / Some years'll worsen you and some will better you / If it's not positive, drop it, the street's residue / But keep a piece of yourself when you're sellin' you../ This game ain't for the throne, and kings are checkable / It's to be a better you, envy's inevitable / And please take pics with your friends 'cause I'm tellin' you / This industry attention will sever crews” 

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Dave’s relationship with the creative process is paramount in this album, as he notes in ‘My 27th Birthday’

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“But when I'm all alone, I won't lie, I question myself

Am I self-destructive? Am I doin' the best for myself?

I know I love music, but I question the rest of myself

Like, why don't you post pictures? Or why don't you drop music?

Or why not do somethin' but sittin' and stressin' yourself?

Ten years I been in the game and I won't lie, it's gettin' difficult

This shit used to be spiritual…

[and] why we countin' the numbers, how the music make you feel?” 

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These lines of worry are accompanied by call-and-response echoes of "everything's fine,” noting the cognitive dissonance Dave feels between making good music and the innate pressures of conformity associated with that. Impending social pressure and fear are heavily prevalent in the creative process. Creating for creation’s sake, for Dave, seems to have lost its fervor, as he describes how the music process used to feel much more spiritual. In a world of increased automation and algorithmic agility, audiences forget that there is a real person behind the music, with a large dedicated team committed to bringing an artist’s vision to life. In Dave’s recent Instagram caption, he highlights how formative those four years were for him and his music, emphasizing how his search for purpose guided him in the birth of his third studio album. 

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“You wanna know the reason it's taken me four years?

It's not 'cause I'm surrounded by yes-men and sycophants

It's 'cause I'm with producers and people that give a damn

It's me who's gotta carry the pressure, I live with that” 

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Lauryn Hill speaks to a similar theme, underscoring the importance of living life to create good art. 

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“I’m not in the studio right now, and everybody thinks I’m crazy / Time is running out, and you have a window / For a while, I listened to that / Music was created / But it wasn't my best / There was no substance because there was no experience / …Never be afraid of not knowing / Think in doses / Think in experiences”

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Refusing to be prescriptive, the nature of Dave’s storytelling invites listeners on an emotionally introspective journey through the labyrinthine of his creative mind. Each worry, hesitation, abundance, and proclamation Dave expresses design the sonic, melodic, and phonetic structure of each record. 

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King David and his harp, 

Santan Dave and his pen. 

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“My ancestors, my ancestors told me that my life is prophecy

And it's not just me, it's a whole generation of people gradually makin' change

There ain't a greater task

Shift that, make a name, make a start

They don't know what they're facin' when they ask

With the will of David in my heart

The story of the boy who played the harp.” 

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Collapsing tenderness, pain, restraint, and beauty, Dijon’s ‘Baby’ record somehow manages to carry fragmentation and completion all at once.

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“I’m rife with contradictory ideas.” 

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This contradictory essence presents itself in his 2025 album, ‘Baby.’ Listeners are brought into Dijon’s futuristic take on a traditional stomp-clap Americana sound in the first track, ‘Baby!’, then transported two decades in reverse with ‘Another Baby!’ and its nod to 1990s Prince sensibilities. As ‘Yamaha’ fields remnants of a lo-fi, neo-soul nostalgia akin to that end-of-a-movie score feel – we’re then pulled into a textural, grainy experimental folk experience in ‘Kindalove.’ This playful, mosaic music-making refuses the conventional binary of sound. By exploring and dissecting a wide range of influences distinct to his taste, he functions as a sonic filter that outputs a glitchy, avant-garde, spacey final production—pursuing the limitless potential to craft a great record. 

Washington state-born, Maryland-bred, and now LA-based artist and producer Dijon Duenas, began his eclectic music journey nearly thirteen years ago with his R&B duo Abhi/Dijon. In 2016, he moved to LA to start his solo career. Inspired by Frank Ocean and heavily emotive R&B lyricism, his single ‘Skin’ reached notable acclaim, now amassing over 62 million plays on Spotify. His inspiration for music ironically came from his own intense criticism of it. While at the University of Maryland, he came to terms with the reality that if he wasn’t putting his own songs out there, he had no business brazenly ranting about the work of others. 

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From his One Battle After Another acting debut, in addition to his upcoming musical guest appearance on Saturday Night Live in December, Dijon is closing in on a momentous year– most notably, with his 2026 Grammy nominations announced earlier this month. With nominations for Producer of the Year, Non-Classical, in addition to Album Of The Year for his contributions to Justin Bieber’s ‘SWAG,’ he also had his production hand in Bon Iver’s 'SABLE, fABLE,' co-producing ‘Day One’ featuring both Dijon and Flock of Dimes. Dijon notes that he was able to attach to some version of the vocal idea with the help of Michael Gordon, also known as Mk.gee. The team went through 35 different channels and dissected every stem of the production, unmuting and muting to see which idea worked. In an interview with Zane Lowe, Zane noted that “This was the equivalent of pulling all the tape off the reel, laying it on the ground and deciding to just figure out what you're gonna cut.” The on and off beat cadence in ‘Day One’ was actually a Pro Tools mishap, with Dijon noting, 

‍“It made sense, weirdly, and everyone picked it up and remembered to pause… I'm not smart enough to do stuff like that… [consciously].” 

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This same DIY versatility in his production technique was paramount while he was in the studio with Justin Bieber’s team for ‘SWAG.’ Collaborating with production powerhouses Carter Lang and Dylan Wiggins, Dijon described the environment as “non-demanding or entitled”, where “unpredictability met comfort.” This way, everyone could bring their natural selves to the table to make something genuinely human. With ‘Daises’, co-produced by both Dijon and Mk.gee, the layering of Mk.gee’s heavily detuned, baritone-esque guitar riffs, along with Dijon’s emotive vocal melodies and intentional spacing between production sequences, guided the build for the record. It became a massive hit, now nearing over 418 million streams on Spotify. 

The brashness of the Beastie Boys, to the reverent, sensual, emotive vocal phrasing of D’Angelo, to A Tribe Called Quest’s irregular jazz-inflected chords, all the way to the whimsy, genre-fluid textures of the Dust Brothers, Dijon’s catalogue of inspiration expands extensively across time, genre, and style. Dijon’s music has been described as existing in a liminal space, characterized by out-of-tune pianos, demo-like records, 80s nostalgia, and a simultaneous pop sensibility and inadvertent pop subversion. His music embodies subtle nostalgic undertones and cross-genre sonic montages. The music feels familiar, but difficult to place. 

In the interview with Zane Lowe, Dijon shares that he doesn’t actually know when a record is done, but rather “knows when something isn’t good.” 

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“It’s physiological – you just know when something is wrong.”

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Dijon’s first track, ‘Baby!’ was started almost four years ago. Originally meant to be a Shania Twain old-school country storytelling track, Dijon retooled it and broke it down over the piano over the years. This piano breakdown gave rise to a more emotional vocal phrasing than the original demo. ‘Another Baby’s’ heavily Prince-inspired influence jokingly pushes for the idea of another child. Prince’s ‘If I Was Your Girlfriend’ provides a beautiful production mirror to ‘Another Baby’ as both tracks possess similar gritty, transient, atmospheric textures – with punchy, gated reverb on the snares.  

Although Dijon did not drop a single before the release of the full album, ‘Yamaha’ was the most listened to song on the record, with over 7 million streams since its release. In this upbeat, cinematic love song, Dijon’s emotive phrasing and vocal inflections give life to the written words in ways that the words alone could not have evoked. 

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“Baby, I'm in love with this particular emotion / And it’s sweet / You in this particular motion / You shouldn’t hide it, honey / You should own it and show it / Big loving—that’s my heart / And you own it.”

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Two weeks before Dijon and his wife’s son was born, ‘Kindalove’ was born. Dijon and his band produced a loop, invited some friends over, and with both of these essentials, everyone started singing into the mic, like the classic days. This is one of the most important ways Dijon masters that sonic sound that feels really close, like you’re in the room – a live show, a tiny desk, making music in the garage. His omnidirectional mic picks up every subtlety in the space – from vocals, to walking, to stomping, to breathing, to clapping. These textures give each song its dimension, picking up sources around the room to shape an audible depth to the sound. This production style works to recapture that sense of intimacy in live performance. 

Vocals serve as a utility to give dimension to the record. Most often, the vocals dominate over the instrumentation and sonic production, but for Dijon, these elements are in communication with each other. One isn’t above the other; the vocals are instruments. By speaking and feeding off each other, a vocal collage is created within the narrative of each song—a dialogue, an interweaving storyline. 

Not only is his music-making process non-linear, but the music itself also exists on a non-linear plane – making way for special, fluid, genre-bending sounds. 

The disorder in process rejects conventionality in favor of awe. By disrupting algorithmic automations and creating novelty, we invite human error. 

‍“I’m still trying to figure this out. Whatever you like about me, I’m still trying to change and undo. I don’t have an understanding of the end.”

The closing night of kwn’s with all due respect tour was a perfect celebration of tthe monstrous year the R&B songstress has had. Having witnessed her take the stage at the top of the year, where she opened for Kehlani as part of Crash World Tour, to closing out her debut headline show, which sold out instantly. It was a moment to witness as she embraced the love from her hometown show, ending the tour on a high note.

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The energy at The Outernet was electric, with fans eagerly awaiting her arrival. When she appeared shortly after 9:30 to her EP intro ‘bite me,' the crowd erupted in cheers, singing along passionately to fan favourites from the EP and her previous material. The crowd's enthusiastic participation, singing word-for-word and dancing along, vividly conveyed the strong support and created an immersive atmosphere for readers.

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The significance of this moment for kwn is not lost on her at all who before performing the emotionally charged “Lord Outside” reflected on the events over the last year and getting to this point in her journey. “this time last year I was selling Worst Behaviour for £1.99, I was on working at Amazon, I was working at a restaurant with my dad, I thought it was all going to shit I can’t lie but i never gave up and I figured at some point it was going to get better and it did it”  For anyone who has been on the journey since wn way or another will know that the graft has been real and efforts and hard work it was taken to be on that stage is one that a real moment for her.

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Considering it was the final show of the tour, there was no way she was not going to bring out a guest. Having brought out Scribz Riley at the show before, there were several options from Jordan Adetunji, FLO, and maybe even a secret Kehlani-in-London situation. And even though there was no Kehlani appearance, she did invite a fan onstage to join her as she performed “Clothes Off”. However, the crowd was treated to the appearance of girl group FLO, who joined her for their collaboration “talk you through it”, which delivered the energy on stage and was a standout moment of the show.

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“I’m so grateful for every single person in this room, thank you so much for everything, I really appreciate it”,  she shared towards the end of the show before closing out her debut headline tour. This is, no doubt, just one of my significant moments with her, as she will continue to rise from here on if this show and this past year are anything to go by. 

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When I speak to Victony, I notice he has an uncanny air of calm. His words are carefully considered and his voice has a lilt that evokes the whoosh of a gentle evening breeze. It’s around this time last year. The year is drawing to a close, which means his annual Bonfire Concert—which I would attend—is imminent. Mirroring his mellow aura, our conversation meanders, taking leisurely stops at an array of topics. His aunt, Linda Opara, who’s also on the call, even chimes in. She tells me he’s not always taciturn. Sometimes he is more boisterous. “With friends, there’s never a dull moment with him. He’s either cracking jokes or mimicking some funny personality.” I notice Victony’s icon on my laptop screen jerking around excitedly: he’s laughing.

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We start talking about his debut album Stubborn, which many regard as the best Afrobeats album of 2024. He asks what I think. “When one listens through, they get the feeling that you’re excavating portions of your personal life, even though you don’t divulge too much detail,” I reply. When you listen to Stubborn, a 14-track compendium of sonically varied tracks bound together by the theme of defiance, you feel as if Victory is on the cusp of divulging intimate knowledge to you. You wait with bated breath, it’s on the tip of his tongue, you feel it. He dances around it, skirts it, teeters at the edge of absolute vulnerability. Surely this moment of revelation will arrive, you think. It never does. 

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Hearing my characterization, he tells me: “That’s as close as I could get to being vulnerable. Future releases will be more specific because, putting out the album, and the reception by my fans, everything has given me the confidence to put myself out on records a bit more.” Listening to the Very Stubborn, an 8-track EP which he recently released, will leave you feeling like, after years of observing him through the scrim of celebrity, you finally have Victony within close distance. The project is of course replete with bangers; we get all the good stuff we’ve come to expect from a Victony project. 

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Consider V.S. Freestyle, which, by way of its blasé songwriting structure and feel-good melodies, calls to mind Fireboy’s Peru. Here he sings about his busy itinerary—the result of chasing money—before segueing to lyrics in which he lusts over a brood of women. But lyrics are not the focus here, melodies are. His usual knack for poignant melodies is on display here. Sometimes, like on the hook, it feels like he’s floating ever so slightly above ground as his voice flutters; gravity is a suggestion for him. Tanko and Skido, which feature collaborations with Afrobeats greats Terry G and Olamide respectively, also benefit from a palpably joyful atmosphere. In another world, Tanko is the official AFCON theme song. 

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But the project is at its most successful when Victony slips into a diaristic register. As he excavates emotionally fraught experiences, through lyrics that pulse with disarming honesty, you feel as if you’ve finally arrived in his world. Way Home, featuring Shorae Moore, can feel intense. It’s as if his primary intention here is to disgorge years of pent-up emotions in the three minutes the song runs for. Trying to right his wrongs; wending through dark memories; doing damage to his lungs and kidneys: are among the topics he explores. 

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“I was seventeen with a dream now I'm feeling like a slave to the dream I've been chasing,” and “If I check my Twitter they compare me to Benson, compare me to Rema, compare to Omah Lay gan/ But they don't know where I come from,” are just two instantiations of the trove of poignant lines that speckle the song. In some sense, Way Home feels like the more lucid companion to Street Affair, from his Stubborn album. He’s still a young man navigating the vagaries of adulthood and trying to find his way back home—home, here, being something close to childish innocence. 

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Grammy-nominated songwriter Xenia Manasseh just released a new joint EP, Maybe II, with Kenyan producer Ukweli. This six-track project is an amalgamation of sounds and soulful melodies spanning across cultures and time, from beautiful Swahili melodies to 80s R&B rhythms.

Listening to Xenia’s rich voice and thoughtful lyrics, you are taken on a pensive musical journey, where all the emotions that come with healing, self-discovery, and love are felt throughout the project.

In her opening song, Options, as I’d call it, the avoidant lover’s attempt at embracing the necessary behavioral change needed to receive love. You start saying “hoping you’ll still have a little faith in us” once you feel like you are “ready for a change,” but you started the relationship talking about “the situation is only temporary.” In a way, I feel like this is an indirect indictment of situationships, where the prolonged nature of avoiding commitment complicates the nature of today’s romantic relationships.

But much deeper than a topic of situationships, Xenia dives into the trepidations of an avoidant lover trying to permit themselves to love again, all while still moving with an air of vigilance. They are battling with the options in front of them. Do you allow heartbreak and the fear of things going wrong to hold you back from finding love again? Or do you take that leap of faith and permit yourself to enjoy all that comes with committed love?

In BACK2ME, Xenia dives into the duality of the phrase “back to me” in relation to a potential lover coming back to you, but also the journey of rediscovering yourself—coming back to the parts of you that feel lost or incomplete. This duality that Xenia speaks about is not only an important lesson in romantic relationships, but even in how we relate to our friends, family, and the world around us. So many times, we are hyper-focused on the other person whom we long to have in our lives, but forget that there are elements of ourselves that we have lost and are actually in need of to love others.

“In this scenario, I realized that we both seem to be afraid of how we feel and as clearly as I could see their fear, mine was equally on display.. so even if they weren’t fearless and were ready to choose me they’d still find a Xenia that had fears she needed to overcome and it still wouldn’t be the right time.. so ‘I must come back to me’ so that when it is, we have a chance to have something that can last.” -Xenia Manasseh

Now this project is not just about the heartbreaks we overcome or the avoidant lover’s conundrums; it is also celebratory in nature, as exemplified by tracks like EAST2HWOOD. In this song, you transition into a funk flow, where the bass guitar sets the groove feel of the track. If you are looking to reminisce about the 80s, this 2025 track will transport you back in time.

Bittersweet is a groove that truly gets you out of the funk of comfort. Xenia sings with a real conviction of pushing herself to break out of the mold of familiarity while calling herself, and in extension, the listeners, to a higher calling of potential. Her inspiring flow on this track sounds like a resolute speech that will bring you out of bed on a rainy day and get back to that passion project you’ve been meaning to start.

In the song, she says, “potential is not enough, potential don’t function on a schedule…we gotta break a habit!” Sometimes we believe that things will happen for us without choosing to take the risks necessary to fulfill our potential. Staying in that comfortable “paradise” of a life built on what we think we can control and predict is to rob ourselves of truly living life to the fullest.

Now my favorite track on this EP is Rudia, where we see Xenia flex her Swahili melodies on an R&B song. There is an inexplicable, captivating beauty in Xenia’s voice when she taps into her Swahili melodies. This track articulates the sensual feelings that are conjured by the pure and liberating sexual tensions of lovers. Xenia sings, “Niambie unachotaka nitasikia…na ukisema unapenda, nitarudia,” translating to “tell me what you want and I will listen…if you say you love it, then I will do it again.” As much as romance is about receiving, it is just as equally about listening to your lover’s desires to provide them with pleasure that leaves them with a yearning to come back for seconds.

Maybe II is a sequel to their 2022 EP, Maybe. Xenia and Ukweli’s continued partnership is a testament to the deep trust they hold for one another, where the creative vision can be perfectly crystallized within the output of the performance.

“Ukweli and I found out that our parents have known each other since we were kids, but we feel like we officially met in 2019. We never really had any formal plan to put out projects together; we just really enjoyed making music with each other. With Maybe II, we worked with the amazing Andrew Grossman, who engineered and mixed our project and honestly contributed such dope sonic elements to it. Everything about it felt so correct and, dare I say, fated. When you listen to the music, I feel like you also get a sense of people that aren’t really trying to create one kind of music, we just enjoy making music that feels good, no matter the genre (although we still call it an R&B project).” - Xenia Manasseh.

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Photographs By Matthew Matete

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For nearly two decades, Flavour has served as one of the most enduring custodians of African musical heritage—an artist whose work expands the vocabulary of contemporary sound while remaining anchored in indigenous identity. Afroculture, his eighth studio album, is a carefully curated archive of sonic memory, cultural continuity, and artistic ambition. Across 13 tracks and seven diverse collaborators, Flavour constructs an expansive, cross-continental conversation on what African music has been and what it still dares to become.

The project opens with an elemental force. The Baaba Maal-assisted title track, “Afroculture,” immerses the listener in a torrent of ancestral energy—Senegalese chants, rapid-fire drums, Oja flutes, triumphant brass, and a choral backdrop that feels like the swell of an ancient ceremony. Flavour blend into this world and becomes its vessel, shaping an immersive overture that announces the album’s cultural thesis with absolute clarity.

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“Bambam” slows the pulse without diminishing intensity. Pheelz’s presence enriches the track’s emotional fabric—his harmonies and verse dovetailing seamlessly with Flavour’s impassioned delivery. The percussion remains the axis: bouncy, warm, unmistakably Afrobeats. Then arrives “The Eagle Has Landed,” a jubilant return to highlife’s electric guitar and piano-rooted nucleus. Here, Flavour performs with the swagger of a genre’s reigning custodian, reveling in his authority with a heroic sheen.

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The momentum carries into “I’m On Fire,” where highlife’s cadence meets the pulse of Amapiano. Heavy kicks, shakers, and dance-infused progressions give Flavour room to glide with renewed vigor—an apt metaphor for an artist continually proving his vitality. “Pansa Pansa” with Kizz Daniel offers an inspired intersection of highlife and contemporary Afropop, illustrating how tradition can evolve without shedding its essence. Both artists create a spirited, unbothered groove that reinforces highlife’s potential to thrive within the modern Afrobeats structure. “Ada Bekee,” featuring Waga G, is one of the album’s strongest experiments as it serves as an exuberant fusion of Congolese Soukous and Igbo highlife. The brisk guitar work and kinetic percussion become a symbol of pan-African musical cross-pollination executed with remarkable fluidity.

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The album’s emotional center emerges with “Orente,” where Qing Madi’s velvet-soft presence transforms an R&B reimagining of Nelly and Kelly Rowland’s “Dilemma” into a tender exchange of vocal chemistry. It serves as a deliberate breather and a soulful descent from the project’s high-tempo peaks, mirrored again in the spiritually textured “Big Masquerade (Okukuse),” a drum-laden, gospel-tinged meditation that highlights Flavour’s gift for sonic atmosphere. Then comes the wildcard: “War Ready” featuring Odumeje. The track is an electrifying mosaic of hip-hop bounce and blaring trumpets, punctuated by Pentecostal chants and unapologetic bravado. It is divisive by design, an artistic gamble that underscores Flavour’s refusal to create within safe margins. “Isabella” welcomes Brazilian hip-hop act Azzy for a bright, fast-paced, cross-continental love declaration. The synergy between both artists is refreshing, offering a glimpse into the expanding global grammar of African-rooted music.

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“Jidenna” reinstates the gospel fervor, merging choir arrangements with Amapiano undertones. Flavour crafts a motivational anthem, rounded out by a radiant trumpet outro that elevates an already inspiring performance. “Big Moves Only” returns to the ritualistic depth of his heritage—Oja, traditional drums, Igbo rhythms, and Ijele resonance coalesce into one of the album’s densest cultural statements. Here, Flavour technically says, No dilution. No compromise. The final cadence, “Ife Di Mma,” is highlife in full bloom—percussive, dance-forward, deeply communal. It closes the project with the warmth of a homecoming.

In its entirety, Afroculture is a triumph of cultural stewardship. It reaffirms Flavour’s authority as a performer and also as a guardian of indigenous sound, one who understands the necessity of evolution yet refuses to abandon the spiritual and cultural DNA that defines highlife. The album’s seamless interweaving of Afropop, Soukous, R&B, Gospel, Amapiano, and traditional Igbo textures demonstrates that the future of African music is strongest when its past is not erased but expanded. In an era where commercial pressures often nudge artists toward homogenized global sounds, Afroculture stands as a counter-narrative—proof that evolution does not require dilution. It shows how indigenous genres, often sidelined in the contemporary mainstream, can sit at the centre of modern expression without feeling antiquated or ornamental. Flavour doesn’t sample culture for aesthetics—he embodies it, curates it, and actively carries it forward.

William Mundala, best known as Tiakola, is a 26 years old French-Congolese artist who is destined for greatness. Raised in France in a Congolese household, la mélo always viewed the world from a unique perspective. After years as part of a music group, he decided to take matters into his own hands and began making solo music. To this day, Tiakola is one of the few Afro-Francophone acts to break into the English-speaking music market, all organically. 

Now ready to make his mark, Deeds Magazine accompanied Tiakola on a journey of a lifetime: a return to his roots in Kinshasa, Congo. We sat down with the young star to get a glimpse into his mindset as he continues to cross musical barriers and expand his sonic landscape.

‍Laurène from Deeds Magazine: Good day Tiakola, would you like to introduce yourself to our Deeds audience? 
Tiakola: Yeah sure, I’m Tiakola, a French artist from La Courneuve where I grew up. I began my journey in a group called 4Keus before I ventured into a solo career.

Before we talk about your transition; you were born in France but your origins are from Congo. What does your heritage represent to you today, especially after having shot your cover with Deeds in Kinshasa?
I am a Congolese child by heart, both of my parents are from Congo and therefore, I swam in its culture since a baby. From the food, to the music, everything is inked within me. It represents my identity, my artistry and culture. In France, we grew up between dual cultures, which signifies to me not only my heritage but also my sense of pride.

That’s very well put and I’m sure like myself, a lot of Congolese from the diaspora will relate. Before you embarked on a solo career, you were part of the group 4Keus. What did this period in time teach you? And how did it help you to forge your own universe?
If I had to do it all over again, I would do it a dozen times more. To start within a group is a blessing. This is because you’re with your buddies all of the time, you grow up together, you become professional together and also, I think when you’re sharing the spotlight, it helps you to gain confidence in yourself. You’re not alone in facing the pressure of stardom and so, you can loosen up a little.

This brings fond memories… You’re often declared as the pioneer of mélo, a subgenre between singing and rap. How would you define this to someone who doesn’t speak French?
The truth is rap and mélo always coexisted in France. I think I created not on purpose the mélo of Tiakola, so to speak. It’s stylistically a very street mélo, because even though I write rap texts, you can sing them mélo.

That makes total sense. Your collaboration with Yoruba star Asake on ‘Badman Gangsta’ surprised everyone. With this feature, you became the first Congolese-French artist to top number one on the TurnTable Nigeria Top 100. This is a first in history, not to mention Longomba - Ndombolo in the 2000s. How did this link occur and what did you take away from this experience?
It was a very good experience. Asake is an artist I listen to a ton. He speaks for a lot of people through his music. We first met at a studio in London and honestly, we had a connection right away. The energy you hear through the music is what echoed in our studio session, no lie. And when it’s no lie, it makes for great songs.

Yes indeed. One could say due to selected collaborations and your recent tour in the US, you managed to reach a completely new English-speaking audience. Who do you listen to in this sphere, whether it is Afrobeats, R&B or rap?
I still listen to the classics from before, whether it is in Afrobeats Bracket, P Square, Wizkid and in the new gen scene Rema as well… In the US, it’s like Akon, 2Pac, J Holiday, Brandy… In Congo, the gospel side is Charle Mombaya, L’Or Mbongo, Werrason, King Kester and then you get your Fally and Koffi. Also, there is a new cat called Melo, he’s a strong one! I also listen to a lot of Malien artists like Djeneba Seck, Oumou Sangaré and Toumani Diabaté, the catalogue is so big…

This would explain your versatility. If you had the opportunity to collaborate with any artist outside of France, who would be on top of your list and why?
There’s a good amount of artists I think it’d work out well but, bizarrely I don’t really have a wishlist per se. This is because even an artist that I listen to, if there’s no magic in the studio, then it wouldn’t come out and so, I have to be in those rooms before I can give a concrete answer.

We’ll let this one slide… Deeds Magazine loves to uncover new talents. In your opinion, which Afro-Francophone  artist should we tune in?
El Mvnolo!

Gotcha. You seem to be at a pivotal moment, between France, Africa and the world. How do you see the evolution of Francophone African music in the years to come?
I think it will go well for our generation and the generations to come. Now we can see that when music is well made, it can reach everyone. And we talk between artists as well, there’s no longer a barrier in language when the alchemy is there, we can head far. There’s no more borders. All artists of the continent can develop here and honestly, it is very nice to see. We support everybody.

Finally, what is next for Tiakola? A new album, a tour, or maybe yet another international link up?
I am working on my second album. I am a slow artist when it comes to my time spent in the studio. I have to work on  ideas for months, even years before I’m sure of releasing a project in mind. I travelled, I recorded songs all over the world. We’re also preparing a tour in the midst of it all. And for the new international link up, it will depend on the magic produced in the studio that I mentioned before.

Production Credits: 
Photographer + Creative Director: @tj.saw1
Executive Producer: @beni.masiala
Local Producer: Mpoy Tekela Christian
Retouch: @hilucyb
Production Assist: @slowkamunga + Magloire Mabwa
Project Manager: Seneo Mwamba @Seneomwamba & Zekaria Al-Bostani  @zek.snaps
Design: @dianeadanna
Writer: Laurène Southe @laurenesouthe 
Special thanks to Agnes Tshisekedi and the city of Kinshasa.

When Joeboy was in JSS3, his classmates would chant his full name, “Akinfenwa Joseph”, before the school secretary even began reading the list of students owing fees. The humiliation cut deep enough that the young student told his parents he would never return to that school. But that embarrassment now fuels his mission The artist born Joseph Akinwale Akinfenwa-Donus has channeled those experiences into the Young Legend Foundation, the philanthropic arm of his record label, which just announced a ₦10 million scholarship fund targeting students in public tertiary institutions across Nigeria.

The initiative, launched this November, will support 30 students across public universities, polytechnics, and colleges of education for the 2024/2025 academic session. Each beneficiary will receive an average of over ₦333,000 to cover tuition, accommodation, and other academic needs. It’s the kind of financial relief that might have changed everything for the younger version of Joeboy sitting in that JSS3 classroom.

“True success is not only about what we achieve for ourselves; it’s about creating opportunities for others to thrive,” Joeboy said in announcing the scholarship. “Through the Young Legend Foundation, we aim to support talented young Nigerians, helping them develop their skills, reach their potential, and contribute positively to society.”

The foundation represents more than financial assistance. According to the organization’s announcement, the scholarship program will provide access to mentorship, leadership development, and skill-building programs, recognizing that educational support extends beyond tuition payments.

Young Legend, Joeboy’s record label launched earlier this year in partnership with Warner Music Africa, has been building infrastructure beyond music. The label unveiled its first signee, Kvng Vidarr, in October, and now extends its mission to educational philanthropy. In previous interviews, Joeboy had shared his intention to start the foundation at his alma mater, emphasizing youth empowerment and entrepreneurship development as crucial responses to Nigeria’s employment challenges.

The foundation’s launch also includes outreach programs to secondary schools, with recent visits to educational institutions including Joeboy’s former school, bringing the mission full circle from that painful JSS3 experience to creating pathways for the next generation.

For students currently facing the same financial pressures that once threatened to derail Joeboy’s education, the Young Legend Foundation scholarship represents validation that their circumstances don’t define their potential, and that someone who sat in their position understands exactly what they’re facing.

The Young Legend Foundation scholarship application is open now. Students in public universities, polytechnics, and colleges of education can apply at HERE.

Clipse's final show at Brixton's O2 Academy, part of the Let God Sort Em Out tour, marked a historic moment for fans and the scene, as the iconic rap duo returned after 16 years to deliver an electrifying performance that underscored their lasting legacy and influence.

The show was electrified, with the crowd's energy surging from the moment they took the stage with 'Chains & Whips' to the closing notes of 'So Far Ahead,' as the duo went bar for bar, song for song, creating an atmosphere filled with love and appreciation for Clipse that resonated throughout Brixton. 

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The setlist was a dynamic mix of tracks, from their latest offerings like 'POV,' 'M.T.B.T.T.F.,' and 'Inglorious Bastards,' to classic hits such as 'Mr Me Too,' 'Grindin,' 'Keys Open Doors,' 'So Be It,' 'Popular Demand (Popeyes),' and the energetic 'Virginia,' keeping the crowd fired up throughout.

Whilst Pusha has been active in the years since the group's disbandment. For Malice, this moment felt like a celebration of his impact on the duo. For the two brothers who have come back and picked up where they left off, it feels like a refreshing reintroduction to the current landscape. With the duo earning five GRAMMY nominations for the upcoming award show, this album has felt like a real ode to the class of hip-hop that Clipse occupied during their reign. 

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As the show drew to a close, Pusha T took a moment to express his love and gratitude to the crowd and thank the fans, speaking on the moment and being on the Brixton stage, "We've been waiting to get here." He spoke as he addressed the crowd. "The energy and the love have been insane, and we have felt it right here". 

Witnessing the show in Brixton felt like a real moment for the duo and the fans who experienced it. It was really a special time in the timeline of the Clipse's journey, in the landscape of where they are now. With the GRAMMYs on their heels, there is no doubt that there is a lot more to come from the sibling duo, and this is just the beginning. 

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Every Friday, the streaming platforms are flooded with new Afrobeats releases: singles, EPs, collaborations, dropping within hours of one another. For fans, it's a weekly ritual: endless new sounds to explore. But for the genre itself, this may be blurring its magic.

In the pursuit of visibility and virality, Afrobeats risks being a victim of its own success. The same speed at which it reached global dominance today quietly reshapes the way we consume and value its music. In today's algorithm-driven landscape, silence equals invisibility. Artists are no longer fighting for radio spins or chart positions alone; they're fighting for screen time, streams, and social relevance. To stay “hot”, many acts feel compelled to release new material at an almost monthly clip. 

The labels, too, often encourage this pace. The result is a system that prizes consistency over creativity: instead of nurturing long-term artistry, there's a race to flood the market with content,  whether or not it's fully realised. The Afrobeats talk is no longer about albums that define an era but about songs that trend for a week.

The side effect of this hyper-productivity is sameness. With so many records arriving in quick succession, listeners are experiencing fatigue. The excitement that once surrounded a new single or album is fading.

In the past, landmark projects, like Wizkid’s ‘Made in Lagos’ or Burna Boy’s ‘African Giant’, sustained conversations over many months. They were cultural moments, not fleeting drops. Now, even major releases, from Asake’s ‘Work of Art’ to Rema’s ‘He Is ’, are struggling to keep attention for more than a few weeks.

The songs are still sonically vibrant, yet their life span has shortened. They no longer have the time to grow, evolve, and connect. Music has become a stream — both literally and metaphorically — that never stops flowing long enough for anyone to take a real listen. This overstimulation hits both spectators and creators. Fans scroll through the new releases without any motive, half-listening while moving to the next, whereas artists are creatively drained to keep up with the cycle that hardly allows them to reflect or reinvent.

The pressure to "feed the streets" has replaced the urge to make something that will last, and when every drop becomes an obligation, artistry loses its essence. You can hear it in the writing: repetitive hooks, recycled beats, and a focus on virality over vulnerability. The music starts to feel like background noise, not the bold cultural statement it once was.

Afrobeats doesn't necessarily need to slow down completely, yet it needs to find rhythm once more; the kind that allows the artists to create with purpose and the listeners to connect with intention.

Part of the power of Afrobeats was in how it captured emotion: the warmth of home, the pulse of Lagos nights, the joy of community. That soul runs the risk of dilution when the genre moves faster than its heartbeat.

This culture needs to foster longevity for its own protection: albums that breathe, singles that live, artists allowed to grow without fear of vanishing.

Because beyond streams, charts, and trends, Afrobeats has always been about feeling, and feelings can't be rushed.

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Over the years, Seyi Vibez has been organically carving a lane that blends street realism with emotional honesty. On ‘Fuji Moto’, he presses further into a cultural experimentation, presenting an album that feels both rooted in Yoruba musical tradition and sharpened for modern global ears. This isn't some street-pop album; it's a statement of identity, ambition, and forward motion.

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Alone, the title 'Fuji Moto' sets expectations. "Fuji" establishes its connection to legacy, rhythm, and lineage, while "Moto" suggests energy, propulsion, and a machine in motion. The title, all in all, reflects the dual purpose of the album: to address the past and pick up speed into new terrain.

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Across the tracklist, the project leans heavily into the percussive DNA of Fuji: layered drums, call-and-response sequencing, and melodic phrasing give the album a textured backbone. What stands out most, however, is how Vibez stitches these elements together with the emotional vulnerability that has become his hallmark. He isn't attempting to represent Fuji but rather reinterpret it: reframing the sound through contemporary street-pop production and global influence.

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The collaborations on 'Fuji Moto' are strategic without feeling forced. From the local synergy with Olamide through to international appearances from French Montana and Trippie Redd, features that help widen the album's scope never overshadow the presence of Vibez. Every guest adds dimension, but the direction of the project firmly stays in his hands. His voice is raw, textured, and emotionally charged, carrying the thematic weight of the record.

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Lyrically, the album wavers between introspection and ambition. In the softer moments, Vibez reflects on personal growth, the pressure, and the weight of expectation. Emotional tracks like "How Are You" showcase his ability to be open without losing the grit that defines his sound. On the opposite end are celebratory records built for movement, energy, and nightlife. It's a balance that makes for a project both musically dynamic and narratively cohesive.

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One of the biggest strengths of the album is its commitment to authenticity. Rather than lean into some contrived, mainstream formula, Vibez speaks to a cultural memory with a sound that still feels refreshing to a younger audience. His decision to foreground Fuji elements in 2025 is bold, especially in a market dominated by Afrobeats and global pop sensibilities. It represents an artist confident enough to lead rather than follow.

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That said, the album's ambition sometimes risks overwhelming its cohesion. The wide sonic palette means certain moments feel slightly disconnected, especially when moving between traditional influences and the heavy presence of global features. The pacing also dips in a few sections, not due to lack of quality but because of the album's generous length. Still, these are minor quibbles in an otherwise unified body of work.

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Culturally, the song “Fuji Moto” is important. It introduces elements of Fuji to a wider global audience in a manner that feels very intentional and modern. Vibez is not just experimenting; he bridges. His approach gives respect to the pioneers of the genre while allowing it to organically transition through his voice and perspective.

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This album feels like a turning point in the context of his career. It carries the emotional narrative one expects from him, but the musical framework is bigger, sharper, and more ambitious. 'Fuji Moto' positions Vibez as more than a street favourite; it presents him as an artist capable of reshaping how contemporary Nigerian music interacts with its traditions.

Verdict: 'Fuji Moto' is a bold, culturally rooted album showing growth, experimentation, and intentional storytelling. Even with minor pacing inconsistencies, it is one of Seyi Vibez's most fully realised statements – a project that pays homage to legacy while pushing the sound ahead.

Music is at the heart of creating identity and culture across the black diaspora. It colours everyday life, acting as a source of inspiration for creative output and informing academic approaches to cultural theory. This is the case for artist and filmmaker, Arthur Jafa. Incentivised by the rich culture of music across the Black diaspora, Jafa’s first solo exhibition in London’s Sadie Coles HQ, ‘Glas Negus Supreme’, takes his practice one step further as he explores the power of music through the use of oil paints alongside his signature retouched films and photography. 

As an artist and filmmaker, born and raised in Mississippi, Jafa’s work is experimental in its splicing and reconstruction of key figures and moments in Black American music history and across the diaspora. His creative portfolio is vast; with notable credits on Solange’s ‘Cranes In The Sky’, a Sundance award for his work on ‘Daughters In The Dust’ and representation by Gladstone Gallery. Overall, Jafa’s three decade long career is expansive but revolves around his specific niche. Each piece and film is a commentary on the complexities of Black music in the contemporary space. Yet, ‘Glas Negus Supreme’ is a testament that Jafa’s artistic explorations are far from complete. 

Sadie Coles HQ’s Kingly Street gallery seems to be the perfect space to house the exhibition with its industrial architecture somehow evading the characteristic sterility of many commercial galleries. Instead, the space seems to embrace the unconventional eccentricity of Jafa’s pieces. Upon entry, Jafa’s ‘I just want our love to last’ occupies an entire wall. Black faces, manga excerpts and logos exist in a collage seemingly shrouded under the obscured light of the eclipse depicted in the upper corner. This creates a sense of transcendent meaning for the use of the black and white that ties the piece together. Each image seems to depict different eras in time, some showcasing musicians mid performance and others still shots from films. Altogether, this wallpaper piece ties the exhibition together as an introduction to the vast histories and forms portrayed within the space. 

The exhibition includes two of Jafa’s film pieces, ‘Structural Mutiny_Prince’ and ‘Townshend’. Both short films heavily contrast each other. ‘Structural Mutiny_Prince’ is a colourful and dynamic homage to the music legend. Playing on a 12 minute and 52 second loop, the film features the star’s reception from his fans in the background, cheering as he dances across the stage. In contrast is ‘Townshend’, a 33 minute film of Peter Townshend, leader of English rock band, The Who. Townshend’s silently sustained eye contact with the camera is at first unsettling, then mournful and at some points almost comforting. The black and white shot captures the subtleties of his facial expressions, sometimes almost frozen and others sped up and frenzied thanks to Jafa’s editing. This prolonged silence is particularly enrapturing considering the lively, voracious performances that Townshend had given as a rock star. 

Much like the dualities of ‘Townshend’ and ‘Structural Mutiny_Prince’, the exhibition as a whole is a commentary on varying emotional and visceral responses to music, performance and stardom. ‘Drapetomania’ is particularly interesting. A term that was used to describe “the mental illness” that caused slaves to run away, the still frames of the collage are frenzied and blurred. The central figure’s eyes convey a sense of mania that, in the context of the exhibition, can be interpreted as a result of the music or party that surrounds him. The use of electric blue for two of the many logos overlaid on the image immediately drew the eye, creating a visual contrast to the black and white collage behind them. Jafa’s use of black and white imagery with hints of colour are present throughout the exhibition, seeming to create an atmosphere of timeless equality between all the images on display. The artist’s expansive perspective of music is not bound by modernism or antiquity. Instead their visual interest lies in the textural uniqueness or experimental editing of each as seen in ‘And Live Iggy and Patti’ or ‘Miss Tate’. 

Potentially the standout pieces of the exhibition were found in the smaller, latter space of the gallery. ‘Kiss_NLove’ and ‘Foxy Lady’ are congruous in nature with the exhibition but also clear outliers. In form, both deviate from the established use of found imagery, photography and film that fill the majority of the exhibition. Instead they are oil paint on linen. This invites a new sense of tangibility to Jafa’s practice, bringing to mind thoughts of him considering where to lay his brush to create the intended image rather than overlaying photographs. ‘Foxy Lady’ depicts Foxy Brown, mid strut on stage. Her movement seems fluid and determined and the canvas is filled with colour, yet another deviation from the muted tones of the other paintings. Although ‘Kiss_NLove’ does stick to the central theme of black and white and with similarly blurred texture, the image itself is intimate in nature. The close up of an impassioned kiss sparks the imagination to figure out the wider contexts of this affection. Like many of Jafa’s pieces throughout the exhibition and his catalogue, the interpretations of this intimate moment are left entirely up to the viewer to decipher.

‘Glas Negus Supreme’ is a reflective yet experimental view of the ever evolving musical landscape. Jafa’s style in how he creates and portrays each work is what truly stands out as a viewer. He pushes the bounds of musical commentary while paying homage to legendary musicians. However, he is not stuck in the past as he finds new and visually interesting ways to acknowledge the power of music. While ‘Foxy Brown’ is a personal favourite, ‘Townshend’ is deceptively brilliant in its push to confront human emotion. Overall, Arthur Jafa’s ‘Glas Negus Supreme’ is an exhibition that is not to be missed.

Houston born and raised rapper Monaleo released her third project, a mixtape called ‘Who Did The Body?’. The project explored themes of grief, family and love. The question “who did the body” is a common black American phrase. The phrase stems from wanting to know which funeral home prepared the body for burial. The mixtape opens with a young girl saying “she looks like she’s sleeping”. A man responded “I wonder who did the body?”. The mixtape uses imagery of the black southern gothic aesthetic. This connects her to her southern roots and represents her culture. A culture that has been made taboo due to Christian nationalism and colonialism. She embraces hoodoo, which is a spiritual tradition developed amongst enslaved Africans in North America, making this something to be proud of instead of ashamed.  

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I have been a fan of Monaleo since ‘Beating Down Your Block’, finding the video on YouTube before it hit a million views. I fell in love with her direct tone and aggressive lyricism. To me she demonstrated everything I had been feeling as a young woman, anger at the world and the men around me. Her last project ‘Throwing Bows’ is full of this anger and confidence.  However,  ‘Who Did The Body?’  is about what makes her body and the body of many black American women. It’s the pain, it’s the excitement and, at times, our family strain. In all of this she is taking pride in her emotions and she is vulnerable within this project. Asking the big questions about life, the ones we’re often afraid to ask like , “what  is going to happen when I die?” (life after death).  

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The black southern gothic aesthetic within Hip hop culture is inspired by the southern gothic literature tradition to explore themes of historical injustice, poverty and the supernatural. This aesthetic has been used a lot previously with artists like Gangsta Boo, Project Pat, Three 6 Mafia. Monaleo follows this same southern tradition using this aesthetic to explore darker themes within her art. She takes inspiration from her predecessors. On songs like ‘Spare Change’, she explores the theme of poverty and addiction. “Don't you know bums have a name?” she shouts on the chorus, humanising those who are often othered in society due to systemic oppression. 

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By embracing this darkness black women in the south have been able to pace through trials and heal their communities. Black women birthed America, their labour, love, food and pain has grown the land Americans breathe on today. In this project Monaleo acknowledges this history. Through the black gothic they are able to gain liberation. Angela Davis writes, “The slave woman was the first full time worker for her owner and only incidentally, a wife, mother and homemaker”. This is the history that Monaleo is acknowledging. When she is using Southern Gothic aesthetics she is representing her heritage as a Soulaan woman.  

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The mixtape opens with ‘Life After Death’, a song about how she should be commemorated after she passes. In this song, she is dark and haunting but acknowledging the overarching theme of this project, how life and death in the Black American community are constantly linked. It's something that oftentimes we shy away from but something necessary to acknowledge. “Life after death /is it lit or not?” A question that we all want to know the answer for. In the lines “Why you curled up in that bed?/ Bitch, get up and get out”, she discusses how her friends and loved ones should not sit and be sad but continue to live with her memory. She’s aggressive, but this is honest. 

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The churchy ‘Bigger Than Big’ first debuted on Kai Cenat’s streamathon full of positive affirmations. “I’m bigger than Ben” references  the ‘Big Ben’ in London. We then lead into the controversial, not by intention, ‘Sexy Soulaan’. What's interesting about this song is what came about after it. The song is about pan africanism, empowering black people across the diaspora. Within the music video Monaleo is accompanied by multiple flags such as the Nigerian flag, Black American heritage flag and the Jamaican flag. The intention was to empower each of us through highlighting our similarities and differences. She references key Black American things like not putting your purse on the floor. “Being in the house lighting incense”, this insinuates spiritual protection. Songs like ‘We On Dat’, a southern Hip Hop record that  discusses  the ways she is ‘on dat’, and how she is too protected spiritually. The music video also has southern gothic references. There are women dressed in white, who are witches and use hoodoo magic to protect themselves and the people around them. Monaleo within this project is finding ways to weave in her heritage, showcasing how life, to her, extends beyond the physical realm. 

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We then move into ‘Putting Ya Dine’, which acts as a celebration to this future. This is also a part of her body. This club banger is about confidence and security within yourself. In a project that is so dark thematically it's nice to see how despite the pain, there is still hope to be excited about life and still party. ‘Freak Show’ again reiterates this. She is discussing her sexuality which adds onto all the things that make her one body. The sultry chorus states “there's something magic bout me and you'll find out in time”. It's sexy, and displays her growing womanhood and the growth she is having in herself. 

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The mixtape dwells deeper into its overarching theme of death where she begins to openly grieve her friends; the people she has lost. ‘Open The Gates’, is a jumpy song that is both humorous and sad. It showcases the anger, discontent and humour you can find in grief. She repeats “pen the gates, I really miss my b*tches”. It makes light of the fact that they're away but you can still feel that sadness. On ‘Dignified’ she discusses losing a friend to drunk driving. It's gothic and baptist. She hopes to “die dignified”, suggesting dying with respect. In this instance, she is hoping her death isn’t caused by doing something unforgivable like drunk driving. 

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There is a moment of reflection she has on this project. ‘Diary of an OG’, is a song that describes her experience being an oldest girl and the tough circumstances she has been put in. How she walks with being a nurturer and protector of herself and family. This pressure is something many girls have to live with. She is being honest. The chorus repeats “I’ll always be the oldest girl /surrounded still a lonely girl”. This position is not easy to be in, something that is constant and very demanding. The song makes me tear up out of empathy. 

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What makes our bodies is a mixture of pain and happiness but that is who we are as people. This project is sonically and thematically different. Where in the past she embraced her anger and aggression. This one is about growth, acknowledging where this pain stems from and moving forward with it. This project is not only about death alone, but how we become ourselves. What losses and wins leave us dignified as people. Monaleo is asking these questions to her community in an effort to heal from those uncertainties.

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My first experience with Summer Walker was in my early teens and I had heard the song ‘BP’ for the first time. Soon in 2019 ‘Over It’ was released. Coming off the back of Bryson Tilller’s ‘Trapsoul’, and Partynextdoor’s ‘PARTYNEXTDOOR 2’ and Drake's ‘Take Care’. RnB was in a completely different space. It sounded different, and thematically we were in a space of agony and apathy around love and relationships. ‘Over it’ took inspiration from this sonically being primarily produced by Londononthetrack, but thematically there was a clear desire for a loving relationship, as opposed to her male predecessors. 

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What ‘Over it’ did was begin what would become the new RnB renaissance we see today. With songs like ‘Body’, ‘Like it’ and ‘Nobody Else’, all romantic love songs, it was clear where Walker was as a young woman and how she viewed love . This quickly changed with ‘Still Over It’, where this fantasy began to break down and she had to deconstruct what love looked like and meant to her.  Heartbreak has inevitable effects on you. With ‘Still Over It’ her heartbreak exceeded her love. With it beginning with ‘Bitter’ defending this man against the women making claims against him. To end with ‘4th Baby Mama’ accepting her reality and ‘Ciara’s Prayer’ hoping for a better man and better love. ‘Finally Over It’ is the end. But what's different about this edition to the trilogy is that it seems apathetic. In an attempt to showcase healing I think Walker has decided that there isn’t much to gain with relationships to men. Perhaps the healing is more so looking for love within rather than externally. But with the album cover suggesting that she would rather engage in relationships with men for the benefits instead of love. 

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Atlanta born and raised artist Summer Walker has created a discography surrounding love and heartbreak. In this she has displayed the highs and lows of these emotions in the most honest way. Allowing us to connect with her and our struggles in the best way. In this album specifically she explores the idea of Heteropessimism. Heteropessimism is the idea that women feel pessimism or regret in regards to their attraction to men. Asan Serisin writes, "Heteropessimism’s anaesthetic effect is especially seductive because it dissociates women from the very traits — overattachment and “the overintensity of feeling”—for which straight culture is determined to make us ashamed…”. Coming off the back of ‘Still Over It’, a piece that owns its ‘embarrassing’ nature, it seems like a natural progression that Walker has come to this conclusion. 

The album opens with ‘Scars’, a song less than one minute, discussing how she cannot love someone without seeing who they truly are. This is a recurring theme within the project. How the men she has dated have not been honest about who they are causing conflict and friction, “I cannot love you”. The album then discusses what she could’ve done for payback against this partner. One thing we all enjoy about Summer Walker is how she’s able to say the most egregious things in a beautiful manner, “I should’ve robbed you / nearly could’ve got you”. It's clear she is in a state of frustration and is beginning to give up on this love. 

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The song ‘No’ narrates how many of us women feel about the current dating climate. She sings “you want me slaving over a hot stove / you want me ironing and folding all of your clothes / you want me to cater to you never tell you no”. In this moment she is detailing the ways women are often unequal within their dynamics with men. Today many women are expected to perform traditional roles in relationships at the sake of themselves. Walker is saying that she is not willing to do that. Leading into ‘Go Girl’ where she, Latto and Doja Cat display confidence in who they are without men. Though it’s not all this simple. 

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Both ‘Situationship’ and ‘Give Me A Reason’ showcase the complexities of letting go to really be over it. Walker's voice is angelic over the guitar and she woefully sings about the stress that is a situationship, “you say we’re just friends just to string me along in a Situationship”. But ‘Give Me A Reason’, suggests that despite this informality,  this lover gave them a reason to love them. But Walker is no longer buying this so she detaches. ‘Baller’ is the anthem that is ushering the next stage in Walker's life. She no longer wants love but someone who can provide and be a “shotcaller”. Love has only brought her pain, but if this is transactional she no longer needs to “lose herself to keep him home”. The narrative at this point is strong but seems to get lost. By disc two, it begins to get clouded by features that don’t seem to add much to the songs. In this, she is no longer following a linear structure which we  have seen her do in the past. By the time we get to ‘Get Yo Boy’ featuring 21 Savage and ‘Number One’ with Brent Faiyaz,  I’m unsure on whether we are moving forward or backwards. The cover suggests that she is playing a different game entirely. That love is no longer important to her. But these songs suggest that Walker still has a desire for relationships. 

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We are brought back with ‘Allegedly’, a country ballad that suggests that she is having a revelation. She “has been down this road before”, she’s fallen in and out of love but now she wants a change. ‘Allegedly’ suggests that she doesn’t want to fully commit but would rather pretend because it’s easier than getting our heart hurt, “Baby Baby / I’d die for you allegedly”. By ‘Finally Over It’ we are at the end of this chapter. But as a listener I’m not convinced that she’s healed, rather she’s bought into the same thing many other women have done. Relationships without feelings. But is this truly fulfilling in the long run? 

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Patriarchy causes men to not put much effort into their relationships with women. It advantages them because women are expected to do the majority of the emotional labour. Throughout this trilogy we listen to Walker detail the straining labour she goes through with the men she loves and hates. This is a biography for the zillenial generation. Relationships have changed, but is it for better or worse?

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I first came across Natanya dancing on TikTok at a live performance. At the time, she had black hair, bangs and was in an outfit far from the stripes she flaunts today. Feline’s Return, both Act 1 and 2, would come out two years later but from then I knew she was someone to look out for. Feline’s Return  is a project that to me is helping redefine and push the needle for pop music. As someone of both West Indian and Nigerian descent growing up in North London, her music is alternative to the type of pop music that we are used to, pop music made by majority white acts. She is making this genre her own. non-conforming and standing in what she is creating. 

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Within this project; love, fame and career seem to be in conflict with each other.  Feminist writer Bell Hooks states in her prolific novel ‘Communion: The Female Search for Love’ that “love is the foundation on which we build the house of our dreams. It’s a house with many rooms. Relationships are a part of that house but they are not everything and never could be… no group of women should feel they need to deny the importance of love”. Love is a very important aspect of human life, but due to patriarchy, young women are expected to idolise this feeling, which can cause you to lose sight of anything else that could be important to you. Which, in this case, is making art. 

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What I love about this project is not only the relatability of this feeling, but how she is able to tell this story through timing of release. The release dates showcase the natural development of these feelings.  Act 1 was released in summer, with songs that are exciting but ending it with pop ballads, ‘Say The Word’ and ‘Daydream’. These remind us that overconfidence and escapism in career is not a cure to desiring romantic love. 

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Act 2 was released at  the beginning of autumn, a time to slow down and reflect on what will be in the future. But there is a sense of contentment. From ‘Jezebel’ to ‘On ur Time’, we see that she understands how important her career and her want for love are. They don’t have to exist in conflict with each other but rather in harmony. 

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The project opens with the flirty ‘Night Freaks’. The strong guitar brings you into a world of calm as her falsetto voice says, “show me, hold me / and if I’m not sure then reassure me”. The song is about intimacy and sharing an experience with someone in the most comfortable way. It’s soft, but as we progress into the last chorus her signature stacking vocals takes us into the room where the party begins with ‘Dangerous’, a confident jerk pop song. She discusses the ways she wants this person to make their move properly, wondering if it’s because she’s ‘dangerous’. In this song, however, she is assertive, taking control and not waiting. With the outro “I’m so sick of it, I’m so sick of it / boy you’ve got to handle it” her frustrations are coming to light. What is special about this song is that it’s atypical. The minute the camera flash sounds begin you are unsure of what to expect from it. That is the magic that Natanya is brewing as an artist. Stacking vocals on a jerk beat is unconventional as the expectation is to rap. However she is proving herself to be an artist that cares to be innovative. Then we make our way to ‘Guitar’, again allowing us to dance through a catchy chorus and loving lyrics. This song is about excitement with this person, “we should get excited / throw a party dance the night away”. This is about embracing a lover and it brings us hope. Slowly we come down with ‘Say The Word’ which shines a light on the dichotomy of her songwriting. This is a true moment of vulnerability,  a pop ballad, “and just say the word / I’ll be yours”. This brings us down to earth, the simple production lets her vocal ability shine here. In her breathy tone, it is almost like she’s pleading, filled with true yearning for this love interest. We have been through a rollercoaster of her emotions. But here it seems like she’s putting down the show and just being honest. Whereas on ‘Moviestar’ she is denying this. Love both pulls and deters her, “I can’t waste my time on you, love it’s like a drug /I’d rather be a movie star”. Fame and success is what she desires but so is interpersonal love, it’s a push and pull. 

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Once we reach the second act the tone changes. With ‘Unflirt’ she is willing to “be a fool’” for this lover. We have changed from the confident Natanya to the one willing to succumb for love, “don’t go away, it was so fun this summer…”. If Act 1 reflects the push and pull of a summer love, Act 2 is the come down from it. We later come to the folk pop anthem ‘Sofa Joy’, reminiscent of Janet Jackson. “Kp I think you want to date me / why we toy with this sofa joy”  feels like a callback to ‘Night Freak’ where she speaks of this same sofa being a space of intimacy “or is it my sofa / that called you over”. This piece of furniture seems to bring safety and comfort in the relationship. 

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‘Meeting You Once’ is the celebration anthem. It seems that she has come into acceptance of her singleness. This dance anthem makes you feel excited, heading into autumn alone but not lonely, “I’m a single lady in the club and I wanna know if we can get it on tonight”. Though we didn’t get there easily, in ‘Jezebel’, again, Natanya is coming down and discussing her relationship to herself in the world she is building and how it’s affecting the people around her. It seems this moment is her acknowledging her growth in character not only as a person but as a female musician. “I will take away my seat at the table” via her TikTok describes this as a moment of frustration to the people around her. “It’s your birthday are you ready?” , these are whispers reminding her that regardless, her birthday still comes. “Are you ready” for another year or change? 

To me, Natanya is displaying how relationships can change you and how you can enforce those changes too. She’s finding herself in real time on this project. It’s a blend of Amy Winehouse's vulnerability, alongside Micheal and Janet Jackson’s pop bounce. In ‘The Velvet Rope’, Janet Jackson was able to create an album that mixed multiple genres and make it pop, this is the same thing that is happening in ‘Feline’s Return’. She is the antithesis to the British pop tradition where songwriting doesn’t always seem to be at the forefront nor vocal stacking. She’s pulling from her influences but also creating a world of her own. The imagery is haunting and strong, allowing us to recognise who we are looking at specifically. The beauty of this project is that it can relate to any young woman understanding love in their twenties. I was listening to Act 1 throughout the summer and now Act 2 will take me through the winte