A sixth sold out appearance at the O2 Arena finalised a homecoming, crowned in glory and cloaked in anticipation, for 28-year old singer and songwriter Rachel Keen, better known as Raye. The final show of her global tour on the 20th of May for her second studio album, This Album May Contain Hope, marked her independent debut and solidified her as an artist in the truest sense of the word.

The tour - a personal and professional triumph - was a family affair, opened by the singer’s two younger sisters, Amma and Absolutely. 

Starting the night with a nostalgic sound, reminiscent of Y2k whimsy, middle child Lauren Keen, professionally known as Amma, held the audience in her hands as she joked and chatted between songs. A joy in energy and presence, the singer’s tenderly familiar tone and lyrical prowess shone through hits from her solo project Middle Child and a comforting rendition of The Climb.  

As she floated off the stage, the youngest of the three strutted in with an allure that was all her own. What her sister exposed in glowing vulnerability, Abby-Lynn Keen, known by the moniker Absolutely, continued breaking away with cutting lyrics wrapped in electronic and alte-R&B rhythms. From a shy girl “deathly afraid of performing and being seen by people” to a woman having performed over 50 shows in a year, Absolutely’s performance was grounded in a unique prose that set the scene for the story of hope everyone came to see.  

In true eldest sister fashion, Raye appeared on stage beaming with pride for her sisters and, what I imagine to be, excitement for the performance to come. Covered head to toe in a hooded gown, the set began with the story of depression and despair that had plagued the Tooting-born vocalist. As trumpeters and violinists scurried across the stage, the dark rain cloud that boomed overhead stood no chance as the curtains opened, and the hope that was once contained, spread around the arena. 

A six-time Brit award winner and three-time Grammy nominee, Raye’s vocal expertise and knack for artistry was never really in question. Widely known as one of the best artists of this generation, the stakes were high. As the night went on, though, a reverence for the art of performing bled through the night in an indescribable way. The kind that solidifies legends and stakes claim to mastery. 

The album’s tracklist emphasised  heavy jazz influences and symphonic melodies throughout, with mentions of pop, blues and classical laced in the seasonal shift in songs. Opening strong with her now infamous track from the summer season of the album, Where the Hell is my Husband set the tone for the kind of performance to expect from performers to come. The inclusion of a brass section, live strings, soulful background vocals, and an interactive set created an immersive experience from the standing room to the seating area. Flowing seamlessly into tracks like Beware.. The South London Lover Boy, Flip a Switch, and Winter Woman brought the characteristic storytelling style we’ve come to love from the songstress into full effect. Annotated screens, her flowing bob flipping to the choreography, and the soulful tact applied to a discography with a range as far and wide as her dreams will take her. 

Where the attention to detail was placed in the album, the same was felt in the production. Changing from a concert venue to a jazz bar to a rave, Raye’s versatility was on full display - regaling the crowd with stories behind beloved tracks, a plea for some much-needed deodorant (her words not mine), and a venerating vocal performance that tackled everything from modern day dating to the traumas, pain, strength, and rebirth of humans.

The only disappointment came when the night ended. As her sisters Amma and Absolutely rejoined her on stage in an upbeat production of their song Joy, the crowd lingered for a promised encore in throes. As promised, as quickly as the curtains closed, they went right back up to a boisterous performance of her hit song Escapism. 

The only disappointment came when the night ended. As her sisters Amma and Absolutely rejoined her on stage in an upbeat production of their song Joy, the crowd lingered for a promised encore in throes. As promised, as quickly as the curtains closed, they went right back up to a boisterous performance of her hit song Escapism. 

In her final moments on stage, Raye thanked the crowd profusely, speaking of her plans to escape to the countryside for some rest, reflection, and a chance to let the reality of her life sink in. 

But while she’ll be in the meadows, the rest of us will be escaping to the memories of the final night of her This Tour May Contain New Music - writing her name amongst the greats. 

Not speaking French might actually be the most honest position from which to review this album.
For years, Tayc has built an audience that extends far beyond francophone listeners, largely because his music has never depended entirely on language but feeling which comes before the translation does.
JOŸA leans fully into that reality and turns it into the project’s greatest strength.

The album arrives after one of the most emotionally charged periods of Tayc’s career. Over the past year, the French-Cameroonian artist hinted repeatedly at stepping away from music, posting cryptic visuals that left fans unsure whether they were watching a rollout or a goodbye. Then came silence. When JOŸA finally emerged, It felt like someone who had been through something returning to the only thing that made sense.  JOŸA dropped the same day as Drake's Iceman, an album that came with two additional projects, making three albums. Tayc did not move his date, a decision that makes sense if you are completely sure of your audience, sound and numbers. He is playing the long game because his music is one that eases into people over time. 

“Y- Prologue: 2 Mai 1826” opens like the beginning of a film rather than a streaming-era intro track. Sounds of metal cutting through soil sit underneath soft piano passages while orchestral textures slowly rise around Tayc’s voice. He has described the album as a project shaped by reconnecting with his roots, and the opener establishes that atmosphere before the listener fully understands where the album is heading.

“Girlfriend” is an example of that balance. Built around an interpolation of You Rock My World by Michael Jackson, the track could have easily collapsed into cheap nostalgia. Instead, Tayc reshapes the warmth of the original into something softer and intimate.
"Need" pulls from the same instinct. The music video portrayed Tayc as James Brown, singing, drumming, on the trumpet, on the guitar, performing on a family's television screen. Reminding us of the greats and putting himself in that conversation.

‍(Tayc via Instagram)Across JOŸA, Tayc moves between romance, chaos and vulnerability without letting the album settle in one place for too long. “Dive In” reveals its most reckless side, turning a messy situationship into something almost triumphant as Tayc bluntly tells his girlfriend that another woman simply does it better. The man is basically confessing to disaster over perfect production, and somehow it works. Then there is “Koki & Plantain,” one of the album’s most culturally rooted moments, where Tayc compares love to the iconic Cameroonian pairing in a way that feels personal rather than performative.

The features on JOŸA complement Tayc's voice. RnBoi on "Maman Prie," Aya Nakamura on "Va Loin" and Masego on "Masterpiece" each slot in so well you stop noticing where Tayc ends and they begin. Before any of this, Tayc screened a short film at a cinema in Paris before a single track was available to stream.
What makes JOŸA particularly interesting for Anglophone listeners is that it works less through literal meaning and more through feeling. Even without understanding every lyric, you can still follow where the songs are going emotionally through the pauses in Tayc’s delivery, the crack in his voice at the end of certain lines and the way the choirs rise behind him.

IG: @zoannafr

“I knew what I wanted to say, and I spoke up a lot more in the studio. I was very meticulous with everything, and I just felt like I was getting back to my sense of self, and that's something that I really discovered in this process.” British singer-songwriter Konyikeh shares about the process of creating her third EP, Cinere. The project begins with a simple, somewhat haunting sound on the opening track “Buyer’s Remorse,” which once again brings her deep, rich vocals to the forefront amid a stunning piano-and-string arrangement. It begins the journey across the 7-track EP, bringing a fresh vibe to her and introducing us to a more elevated, evolved version of the singer we met back in 2023.

“I was very meticulous in the process of making this project, and the songs were extremely personal to me. I want people to listen to this music and take in everything around it.” She shares about the making of this EP. Everything from the sequencing to the instrumentation, arrangements and everything in between was carefully crafted and considered for the listener's experience. The project, which plays for a total of 15 minutes across the 7 tracks, really does bring an effortless and smooth process as you weave between tracks and once again displays her as an artist who feels like a breath of fresh air cutting through the clutter of noise that exists in the musical landscape and brings something new and refreshing to the table.

The EP, which follows 2024’s Problem With Authority, represents a shift not just sonically, bringing together a variety of sounds into the project she has tapped into, but also another layer of her artistry in how she has presented herself. For her, the shift has brought back a true sense of herself and her love for the music she is creating. There is a rawness and openness that comes through in what she says and in the topics she speaks about on the project. That presentation has been really intentional about what she wants to say and how she has represented where she is and everything it has taken to reach this point in her journey.

Speaking with Konyikeh, we caught up on everything from making the EP to regaining control, expressing vulnerability, finding your voice, and more.

‍Congratulations on the release, Cinere. This is your third EP, and so even getting to this point and putting the project out, how does this feel for you?

I feel like I've always trusted myself as a musician since I started making music. This is the first EP where I've had to really become an artist, build a visual world around the music I've made for this project, and just think about every single thing. I’m so passionate about it. I was very meticulous in the process of making this project, and the songs being extremely personal to me, that attention to detail is super important, and in the world that we live in, where everyone's attention span is so short, I want people to listen to this music and take in everything around it. I feel like this project, I've really pushed myself and, in a way, yes, it's my third project, but I feel like it's the first project, also, in a sense, with an extremely clear vision. The first two projects were learning experiences and helped me find my footing, whereas this one was very clear about what I wanted it to be and how I wanted to make it.

With the entire process of creating the EP. How did that experience differ for this EP compared to the previous ones?

The first project was a collection of songs I'd written, and I still very much stand by that body of work. I still think it flows together beautifully. The second project was a collection of songs that people thought was good and I put it out, but there was no real cohesive thread behind it, So coming into my third EP I had to force myself to trust myself, Bar the last song, “There For Me (Freestyle)” was written in 2021 I made the project within a two, three month period in 2025. I worked with the same three producers: the production duo DUKE (David Dyson and Luke Grieve), and Charlie Perry, whom I had worked with before. Those are the only people I worked with, including myself, obviously, and that was something I loved. In my first EP, I had worked with just one producer and really liked it, so with this one, I knew I wanted to keep it small. I knew what I wanted to say, I was very meticulous with everything, and I just felt like I was getting back to myself. That is something I really discovered in this process: I need to understand who I am and how to iterate that understanding with others, so I can understand that as well.

You are someone who has always been very open in your music, and even on this EP, you are very open and raw. So, even in how you express yourself and your emotions, is that something that has always been easy for you?

​I think because, especially as a woman, as a black woman, we're so constrained and put into boxes, and you always have to be self-pleasing, not always able to be ourselves, and so for me, I feel like if I can't have one medium where I can be completely honest, then what the hell is the point? I find it extremely cathartic, like just putting it all out, and if you listen, you listen, and if you don't, you don't. I hate that other people can relate to it  because it's not a feeling that I'd want other people to relate to. It is quite a selfish act, and it's so freeing not to have to think, Oh, can I say this, or can I say that, or can I do this, or can I do that? And just put it into a medium that I love, and like it's heard by other people, and like people can find comfort in that.

As you listen to the EP, one thing that stands out is the variety of sounds you hear throughout. You can hear all sorts of musical influences and styles. So when you were approaching this sonically, in terms of what you wanted it to sound like, how did that come together?

​What I like about this project is that I went into it thinking I'm just gonna lay down a bunch of ideas. I didn't go in saying, "I want to achieve this, I want to do this, I want to do this," which is something I usually apply in every other aspect of my life. It was literally whatever flowed. With “Mercenary”, I was listening to a lot of Amapiano and Gqom at the time with the log drums; I was obsessed with that sound. I was also listening to a lot of Arabic scales and that type of sound, and then I was like, re-listening to Les Misérables, which is one of my favourite musicals, and I love the gang vocals from there. There was no, I want to tap into this. I want to tap into this. It was an amalgamation of everything, and I just want to make something I want to listen to that taps into my feelings and makes me feel what I want it to.

Even though it's seven tracks, I thought of it as an A-side and a B-side. I made “Miserere”, which I think is like track five, like a kind of palette cleanser that, like soft watches you into, like the softer side of the EP with “BlackThorne” and “There For Me” coming off the back of “Jealous”, which has all the drums and is quite a big song. After I put the tracklist together, everything was so meticulous, down to the second, and it has been curated for the listener's experience. I just want people to be able to tune out of the world for 15  minutes and just listen.

Talk to me about the visual aspects of the EP, since you have put out a couple of videos for the project, and that's always been a strong part of your process: working with the music to bring it to life. So how did you approach these for the EP?

So with my previous EPs, I’ve always done my videos by sending the song to a bunch of directors, who come back with a treatment, and we do it that way. This time, I focused on the ideas and what I wanted them to be, and I wrote them down meticulously. This is what's going on, and I want this to be the idea. So it was just a case of me needing someone to help elevate this, like, a shot list and all that. Every music video that's coming out has come out, I've written everything down, down to what I want the location to look like, what the casting should look like. Even giving proposed shots, and all that stuff. I thought it would be harder than it was, but I used to be a photographer, which kind of helped. The visuals have been really important. I love consuming art, whether it's paintings or photos, and I've spent a lot of time in galleries and museums over the past year or so. Even just on Pinterest, that was like a huge reference point as well. So yeah, just building that world around it has been super important.

How do you find that inspiration? Going beyond just the visuals, but even in the things that fuel or interest you and speak to you creatively?

I think it’s just like immersion therapy; it's definitely quality over quantity. If you expose yourself to a lot of art and all mediums, from theatre to concerts and all that stuff, you never know how it can come out in the studio. You just file things away in your brain and can pull them out as a reference. For example, the cover art for my EP was inspired by a picture I saw on Twitter from a film, which prompted me to watch it and use it as a set of different reference points. Even watching things, for example, TV shows where you see things that may visually look interesting or hearing something sonically somewhere, I find that it's just having things and storing them in your brain that you can pull out musically, visually, as reference points at a later point that speaks to me creatively.​

In speaking to the starting process of the EP, where would you say it began, as to when you knew that it was something you were working towards, as opposed to just making music?

So actually, I started this process in January 2025. It was a very weird time for me, and I ended up in the studio. I literally was like, I have nothing else to do, so I just said fuck it, I'm just gonna be as raw and open. And that was actually a session I had with Charlie. It was very cathartic, and we were working on a song. It was a session where I wanted a lot of instrumentation, all the stuff, and it took me two days to emotionally recover from that session. I played it for the people I work with, and they liked it, but it was like oh maybe this is a bit too honest. So I said to myself, unless I can make something better, I'm still gonna release this other song. But then I made something better: “Buyer’s Remorse”. I also had my first conversation with DUKE, and that was “Vulnerability”. I remember the first half of vulnerability hadn't been finished, and I was going on tour, I was playing some new material, and I was like, I need to finish this one because I can't wait to play it live. So that was when I knew I had something to work with. What turned out to be “Buyer's Remorse” and “Vulnerability” were the real starting things for the EP.

When it comes to how you’ve spoken about making the EP in the meticulousness of everything, and really taking everything into your own hands and leading every single process. How has that been like in terms of actually finding that voice and being able to take this control and really assert yourself when it comes to working with other people and just being able to find your voice in expressing yourself in this way?

With my first EP, I already had the songs written. So I had made that EP myself, and it was very much a "take it or leave it" project. I am extremely stubborn and headstrong, and that has ruined a lot of things for me in the past. I am someone who doesn't crave external validation, and any validation I do seek is unfortunately tied to my work. I know people liked my second EP and responded to it very well; however, I wasn't necessarily proud of the music I put on it, and it made me extremely insecure, and I felt that bled into other parts of my life. And I knew that I didn’t want to feel that way ever again.​

So now, with this process, I've been much stricter; I set high standards and expect the people I work with to at least do their best. It's been a really hard process, but I have found some people to work with who also take their work seriously and hold themselves to a high standard. From Maria the girl who shot my cover art, to the girl who does my nails, she does things to a very high standard. So it's been a lot. It's been a process, and I've had to learn a lot myself, so I at least have a baseline standard, and anyone coming in can build on that. I feel like I'm going back to my 15/16-year-old self, who had unshakable confidence and knew right from wrong. Also, I think it's important to always speak with kindness and give people grace, but don't let people take the piss, because people will take the fucking piss.

So even in the era that you're in now, what does that feel like for you? And what are you excited about and looking forward to in this next phase?

I think before, I had a way of thinking of the studios as work. I didn't really associate work with fun. But I feel like, after this process and while making this project, I felt so free in the studio that I allowed myself to have fun. Now I find myself looking forward to studio sessions, learning new things, like learning past my voice, like feeling free, and sometimes I can just get something off my chest. Like, sometimes I can just have, like, the most fun. And like, I'm super, super excited to perform this project live, all my other music, all this new stuff that I'm working on live. So I'm just so excited to play this music live, build new worlds. And I feel like I'm growing, it sounds so stupid, because I have discovered a sense of self. And I feel like I've transitioned and I'm growing up. And just curating everything with an intention. But my big thing, I just wanna have fun. I just wanna have the best time farming, expand my musical palate, and discover new artists I haven't listened to in a long time that I'm loving. So, yeah, I'm just big on having fun.

Most people who know Nsikak David‘s name know it through someone else’s record. He is the guitarist on Tems’ Grammy-winning ‘Love Me Je Je’, the lead producer on her Grammy-nominated ‘Boy O Boy’, and the man who conceived No Love in Lagos - the celebrated joint album by Show Dem Camp and The Cavemen that has surpassed 10 million streams. For 18 years, he has been the most important person in rooms that rarely put his name on the door.

Strings of Solace, his debut solo EP, is the first time Nsikak David has made something entirely for himself. Fully instrumental, city-named, released without expectation and received with more warmth than he anticipated - it is an audio documentary of a life spent on the road, distilled into guitar. We spoke about where it all began, what the guitar says that words cannot, and why Nigeria needed an instrumental EP, whether it knew it or not.

Before we get into it, how are you doing?

I’m okay. I’m all right.

(laughs) You know, I think in Akwa Ibom, it’s Abadie, if I’m correct?

Oh yeah! I see you’ve been learning something.

My mom is from Akwa-Ibom

Oh wow. Amazing. That’s great. So you speak a bit, or is that the only thing you know how to speak?

I think I know the part about food.

Yeah. I mean, at least you know the part about food, so that’s cool.

Take me back to the beginning. What was your earliest memory of music, and when did you know it was going to be your life?

Honestly, I would say I never really planned for it. I’d say it just came to me. If I say where the beginning was, I’d say maybe I was like five or so, in the church choir. Everybody here, we all started from the church. I remember just watching people play the instrument, and I was fascinated. It always started with me trying to learn the drums. I was just watching people play. I was always thrilled when I saw drummers. I’m like, yeah, I really want to learn this. That’s how it began.

After the drums, I found a new love, which was keyboards. Then I went to the bass. And then ultimately, I started playing the guitar, which felt like the thing I connected to more. It felt like my own identity. What I feel most comfortable playing. I feel extra connected to it. So it wasn’t like I planned for it. I never knew that today I’d be a musician. I just loved the thing. And I just kept on doing it, really.

The guitar became your instrument after moving through several others. What made it the one?

It’s really not like switching. It’s just like I wanted to learn more stuff. But there’s something you feel when you just hit that instrument - you feel like, amongst all these, this is the one that I really connect to. It feels like something I can play even while sleeping. Like an extension of me. That’s the guitar.

The other stuff I learned, they are still very much important in my life to date. I still play those instruments. But I’m just saying that the one that is just me, wake me up tomorrow - is the guitar. It’s like how you have a favourite pair of shoes. You have different shoes, but you must have tried different styles to know, oh, this is the one that fits me.

‍When you pick up a guitar, what are you actually trying to say that words cannot?

Guitar, for me, is my tool of communication. You know how people have different languages? Some people can speak Ibibio better, some people can speak English better. Amongst all my means of communication, I would say the guitar is the one with which I can communicate fluently. And it’s another thing - we musicians, we’re always spiritual. So it’s something that I can hear from the spirit, and I can play it there.

Most people who know your name know it because of someone else’s record. How do you sit with that?

I feel like it’s something good. Because if you know me from someone else’s record, it means that record must have been great. It means I did something great on that project. So I don’t feel any type of way. It’s still part of who I am - it’s me giving myself away in someone else’s project. I see it as me spreading the word differently. I don’t feel any way about it. I feel good. It’s something that should happen often, actually.

Walk me through the moment you realised Show Dem Camp and The Cavemen belonged in the same room. What did you hear that nobody else was hearing yet?

Fun fact - I’ve always been connected through my role as a guitarist. I’d been working with Show Dem Camp for a long time, from their first record. But I just found out about The Cavemen then. They were coming up, making music. We actually played in the same band together for an artist called Best. So we all played together, and then The Cavemen started doing their own music.

I’m like, hey, I like them. I like the music that they do. And Show Dem Camp already had that highlife direction they were moving in. I’m like, this would be a perfect blend. And the common factor between both places was just me. So I was like, I think this would be a perfect, perfect blend. I think this would be magic. So I said, let me see what we can do to put both people together. And I already knew it was going to be magic from the get-go.

The album has over 10 million streams. Most people still don’t know you conceived it. Does that bother you?

No, it doesn’t bother me in any way. It’s just music. It’s me making what I like. However it comes out, the most important thing is that the idea is out there. There are a lot of things that people would never know I’ve done in the industry, and I’m okay with it. I’m not one to blow my trumpet on things I’ve done. I’ve learned to live with it and know that I’ve done this. Nobody can change it. So I don’t need validation, if that makes sense. The truth is that I’ve done this. I’ve done it.

You played guitar on ‘Love Me Je Je’ and produced ‘Boy O Boy’ - performer on the win, producer on the nomination. What was the difference in how those felt?

I’m always grateful for every opportunity I get. This is not me saying it wasn’t something big - it’s just me serving in a different capacity. People get to know the different things you can do, the different bags you can be in. For me, it’s like most things that you’ve done; people don’t know about it. Just the one per cent at the top is what people remember. So it doesn’t really matter. We just keep doing our best at every opportunity. Whether it goes platinum or whether it doesn’t, we still keep doing the work. “Love Me Je Je” wasn’t an exception. Boy O Boy wasn’t an exception. It’s just me doing what I love doing and trying to make an impact with my gift.

After 18 years of building other people’s music, why was now the right time for Strings of Solace?

Almost every year I have a project ready to go out, and it just happens that after the year, I’m like, I don’t think I want to make this project. But Strings of Solace - that idea had already been conceived long ago. I knew I wanted a project that had to be felt. But you just feel like, when everything comes together, it feels right. The moment I finished making those records, I just knew the time was now.

This is one of the projects that didn’t feel forced. It didn’t feel like I was trying to be seen. I was just trying to make the music that I love, how I love it. Sometimes you conform to trying to make music because you want everybody to dance. So for me, it’s me knowing that - this is what I want you to feel. This is a piece of me. And the crazy part is, maybe if I’d waited longer, I wouldn’t have dropped the project. I’m being honest. Because you’ll be phasing into different things. You’re in a different space in life at every time. So I had to make sure it went out in time.

Every track is named after a city or place. Tell me about the geography of this EP.

Those places actually mean a lot to me. This is my life out there. It’s like a piece of my life. We have Lisbon, Nairobi, Madrid - places I’ve been to, touring with artists. It is more like my experiences. Those moments where I can find solitude, where I find peace with myself. I wanted to put those moments into music.

It’s really not about the city. It’s just how I felt at that time in that particular place. If you notice the music, everything about it is just screaming peace. I just want to relax. I just want to forget about everything for the duration that the music is playing. No stress. Nothing. Just trying to have peace.

If you’re touring, it can be a lot. Travelling from city to city, jumping on the next flight. Sometimes you see 40,000 different people. It can be crazy. But most of the time that I found rest, when I just got back to my hotel, these melodies kept coming to me. And I started putting them down. So the titles of each track really meant a lot to me. They were like how I felt in those particular cities at those times. It’s like an audio documentary of my life touring as a musician.

Even for Madrid - that was just one day, me walking around the city, just seeing how I felt. I said, "Okay, I have this melody down. So each record, everything meant a lot to me.”

You chose to make it fully instrumental. No words. Why?

I never thought of putting words in the whole project. I wanted to be able to communicate - as I said before, the guitar is like the instrument I can communicate with fluently. I want to be able to touch people’s souls. I want to play something on my guitar, and you feel it, and you understand. That’s what I was trying to pass throughout the project. You don’t have to say something. You just have to feel it.

Guitar, for me, is an expression. It’s an extension of me. The words that I did not say - I said everything on the guitar, in the music. I wanted people to open their minds to alternative ways of communicating music. So it was an intentional act. I wanted to break free from the norm.

And honestly, the inspiration didn’t come with vocals anyway. If it had come with vocals, I would have done that. But if it did not come that way, why am I trying to force it? If each melody is spiritual to me, I’m going to leave it that way. I’m just a messenger - I’m replicating whatever I’m sent to do. Music is supposed to be felt. I wanted people to feel that from my strings, from each track.

What do you want listeners to take away from Strings of Solace?

The first thing I really want people to get from the project is peace. It’s a peaceful project. If you’re troubled, if you have different things you’re going through - from the moment you listen, from the beginning, it calms you down. All you have to do is just listen. I’m not saying you should dance. It’s not a dance project. All I wanted you to do was listen and calm yourself. It’s like therapy for me.

This is not music I made because I wanted to make music. I made it something I would listen to when I feel that type of way. I want people to feel the same thing I felt. I want you to feel peace the moment you start listening. It’s like a therapeutic session. It’s like coming to see your therapist. Imagine that your doctor is giving you a prescription and that prescription is Strings of Solace. If they were named after pills, this is the one for when you can’t sleep. It will put you to bed.

What does Nsikak David sound like when nobody is asking him to sound like anything in particular?

I think I’ve been blessed with something that makes me special - I can really do anything musically. Today I could be playing highlife. Tomorrow I can be playing R&B. The other day I was playing jazz. I’m an all-rounder. Wherever the music needs me, I follow. I love being that. To be able to just create freely without bounds.

I wouldn’t say I’m a boxed artist. I’m just free. Everybody was thinking that when I dropped something new, it was going to be something club-shaking. I’m like, you guys really thought you were going to hear vocals on it? I love it. I want to be able to paint whatever I want to paint. I don’t want anyone to know what I’m going to do next. I want to be an artist and just make whatever I feel like.

Is Strings of Solace a record you made for yourself, and that’s enough, or do you want it to pull people into instrumental music who wouldn’t have found it otherwise?

Definitely both. First of all, I have to love the music to be able to share that part of me with the world. But I want people’s taste to also change. I want people to have variety. Somebody told me - I never knew I loved instrumental music until I heard this project. Some people have never gotten the opportunity to know that. Somebody called me and said, "This is what I play anytime I want to walk. It helps me through my walk days.”

So I want people to discover that. I want instrumental music to have a place, especially in a country like Nigeria, where instrumental music is nowhere. I want to be one of those people who were bold enough to make this kind of project and make it a thing. Make it look cool.

IG:@ffeistyhuman

For anyone in the UK who has been eagerly awaiting the return of South African duo Scorpion Kings, the wait is almost over. The iconic duo are set to return to the UK with their biggest show yet as part of the High Lights Festival at Barking Park this Spring bank holiday Sunday, making it a must-attend event for music fans.

Having headlined the inaugural Piano People in the Park festival in 2024 the last time they were in London, the duo are returning with a 3-hour set, promising an unforgettable experience for fans eager for a legendary performance.

Fans who witnessed the magic that was Piano People in the Park will know that their set was one for the books and was a 10/10 offering, and have since been waiting for them to come back. Since then, they both returned individually, with Kabza headlining the festival last year and DJ Maphorisha playing a string of his own shows in the UK; however, together, as they stand, fans are here and ready for all that is to come on bank holiday Sunday, eager to share this special moment.

The duo will not be alone and will bring a diverse lineup of sounds from Amapiano, Afrohouse, Gqom 3-Step, and Afro Tech, featuring stars like Tyler ICU, Shakes & Les, Sam Deep, Dlala Thuzkin, and more, making it a must-see event.

There is no doubt that this show will be one for the books. From the production and energy to be presented to the crowd, it will be a day to remember, bringing together lovers of the sound, uniting fans from far and wide, and allowing them to experience this monumental occasion for the Kings.

​With the last few tickets remaining, this is your chance to be part of an exclusive moment and experience the magic that is Scorpion Kings.

‍

A group of teachers pulled Josh Levi aside one day from the rest of the class. Mortified, scared, and mostly confused, Josh reluctantly obliged, anxiously waiting to see how much trouble he was in. What exactly did they want? He wasn’t even the troublemaker type.

‍“Josh, can you sing that song that you were singing in the hallway?” they said excitedly.

Surprised and honored, Josh was relieved. He wasn’t in trouble. He landed at the genesis of the innate power music would hold in his life.

“I was so young, and I was confused at first, but I recognized at that moment that God gave me a gift that could make people feel something. From that point on, I was obsessed and addicted to the opportunity to make people feel.”  – Josh Levi

Deeds Magazine sat down with actor, singer, performer, and multihyphenate Josh Levi to learn more about his music, tour, and his creative journey within the industry. 

‍EMEM IKPOT: I’m super interested in learning more about your sound, specifically the R&B sonic textures for HYDRAULIC. Now that you’ve performed these songs on tour, has the energy of your shows influenced how you want your next project to sound, or did it just confirm you’re on the right path sonically? 

JOSH LEVI: It more so confirmed that I want to stay in the energy that I'm on. I only ever create music that I’m excited to perform. That's how I know that I like a song, or that I like what I'm creating—if I can see myself performing it. If I visualize myself on stage, if I can see the music video– that's how I know I'm connecting with the music. And with this tour, it blew me away that I could bring to life the energy the fans gave me. This was exactly what I was going for.

EMEM IKPOT: Are there certain songs that you absolutely loved performing on tour, and are there ones that were more difficult, maybe emotionally?

JOSH LEVI: 1000%. Every song is completely different for me. I have some songs that are like, super fun and easy to escape to and just let go. Songs like Crash Out, and Don't Go. I really enjoy performing. NAMEONIT on my album is also really fun and upbeat. Other records are more vulnerable, where I do have to tap into something deeper. Songs like I Can't Go Outside, take me back to the very vulnerable and intimate place where I was when I was writing it. And then with How It's Supposed To Be, after finishing that song, I had to take a moment of silence during the performance. My fans just stared at me, but I was really fine with it. It takes me there every single time.

EMEM IKPOT: From your earlier records DISC 1, to DISC 2, all the way to HYDRAULIC, what was your experience like working on each of these records–in terms of your process, inspiration, collaboration? Has your process changed over time? 

JOSH LEVI: Disc 1 and Disc 2 were both EPs. With HYDRAULIC, it had much more internal reflection. I dug super deep within myself. Not that I didn't dig deep with my EPs, but for HYDRAULIC, that's the most introspective work I've ever approached, because I was super passionate about bringing young Josh, who started out in music in Houston, Texas—the nine-year-old—to the party. My first experiences of music, my first relationship with music, I wanted to include that version of Josh as well. And so for HYDRAULIC, I meditated and prayed so much to really bridge those two versions of myself, the current Josh and the Josh where it all began. I think that's why, for me, the music on HYDRAULIC and the records on that project feel like they hold a lot more weight than my other EPs. Not to say that it's any better or less, it's just deeper.

‍EMEM IKPOT: It's interesting, because I feel like a lot of times, especially as a creative in the space, when you think about that original moment where you knew that you wanted to do something big, creative, and new—you tend to be really young. And when you actually get to doing that thing, you’re much older, but that young version of yourself that brought you to where you are now still exists. Actively bringing that young version with you to where you are now feels like a full-circle moment where everything is coming together in a real way, like the culmination of it all. Cause when we’re really focused and really in the creative zone, it’s really easy to forget that young self. And it’s like, wait…I'm remembering that young Emem, or that young Josh, who loves this stuff, and I want to bring them with me in this moment, too. 

JOSH LEVI: Yeah, it's hilarious because it's like, this album is definitely a conversation between my current self and young Josh.

How are things going? 

Why are we doing this again?

Why is music the thing that we feel so passionate about?

How did we get here?

It was a lot of those conversations, but definitely a full-circle moment. A culmination of my journey to date. I think HYDRAULIC will always have a special place in my heart for that reason. I was also very passionate about creating a debut album that reflected me in such a massive way, because it is my first album. You can only really have one first album. If you've never listened to me before, or if you will never listen to me again— I really worked to have a strong sonic blueprint of the story of Josh Levi. 

‍EMEM IKPOT: Tell me a bit more about your background and your growth in the music industry. I know you’ve done acting, singing, performing, etc.— what really drove you to music?

JOSH LEVI: Church. I started singing in church. I grew up in the church in Houston, Texas. Gospel music was a huge thing in my orbit and in my family. We would hear it in cars, radios, TV screens, soundtracks, etc—that's all I ever heard. And so the good thing about that is, I was privy to only incredible singing at all times. That's all my ears heard. I was in so many local church communities, like the choir, and a bunch of other local stuff in Houston. I always tell the story: I remember singing in the hallway or in the bathroom at my elementary school, and my teachers pulled me into the principal's office with a bunch of the staff. I thought I was in trouble. They’re like, “Josh, can you sing that song that you were singing in the hallway?” And I was like, okay. Sure. I'll never forget how emotional they were as I was singing. It was some gospel song. I wish I could remember which song it was. I was so young, and I was confused at first, but I recognized at that moment that God gave me a gift that could make people feel something. From that point on, I was obsessed and addicted to the opportunity to make people feel. 

EMEM IKPOT: I did a piece on D'Angelo, underscoring how important the Black church was for him and his music. And I feel like for a lot of artists, especially Black artists, the church is really such a strong fixture and source of inspiration. I think about this a lot now, in terms of artists who don't have that background and how it can impact their sonic sensibility or how they approach music. I think the Black church really does hold a very special place in crafting music.

JOSH LEVI: Yeah, musically, it's unmatched, and I think church, gospel, sound, and music are very divine. There's an anointing and a flow there that makes for a really, really special foundation for all music. I think gospel music is influential in every single genre. It is soulful. It is R&B. It is pop. It is even hip-hop. The stuff I grew up with, from Kirk Franklin, Israel Houghton, and Mary Mary, and even the traditional gospel sound still had 808s and high hats. I personally feel very grateful for having that church background because I only ever heard amazing quality vocals. Amazing quality music– band, instruments, and incredible sound in my ears. I got accustomed to that. 

EMEM IKPOT: What musicians do you look up to as an artist— are there artists that inspire your sound?

JOSH LEVI: I'm inspired by so many people. Michael Jackson, Aaliyah, Beyoncé. Drake. Tems is a huge inspiration for me. I love Afrobeats, African music in general. 

I'm inspired by a spectrum of so much. I mentioned gospel, I listen to French music. I also am a huge hip hop head, but like, a specific lane of hip hop, not necessarily contemporary today, but Future, Wayne, Drake. Travis Scott. On the singing side, I like artists who are anti the system—artists that push the boundaries, that go against the status quo — those people have always spoken to me.

EMEM IKPOT: How do you feel about the R&B landscape at this current moment?

‍JOSH LEVI: I think R&B is in a beautiful place. The window is finally opening for the true impact of R&B. For so long, R&B has kind of been dismissed in terms of its impact and its influence. But right now, in terms of where we're at in the world, people want to feel good, and I think R&B, the definition of R&B is feel good. So I'm really grateful that as a society, R&B is appreciated more because when there are wars and evil and chaos and hate and all of the craziness that's happening in our nation and outside of our nation, I don't think people wanna hear about, you know, people getting shot, and I'm gonna jump you. We don't have the capacity. So I think people are like, it's nice to just talk about love, to hear about love, to talk about being cared for. I'm happy to play my role in that.

All of my peers, everybody that's in the R&B space right now, they're all my peers. So I'm just really happy, and I take pride in playing a role in that. The first group that came to mind is FLO. They are on my album. I'm always going to be a fan of everything that they do. My prayer is to continue collaborating with people that I'm a fan of. I think their contribution to R&B is something I really enjoy watching.

‍EMEM IKPOT: Are there artists you’re looking to collaborate with in the future? 

JOSH LEVI: I would love to collaborate with Drake. I also love HER. Brandy, of course. Kehlani would be fire, that’s my girl. 

‍EMEM IKPOT: Tell us a bit more about your work with Issa Rae’s Raedio label in partnership with Atlantic Records— how has this experience been for you in terms of your creative process, strategy, and album curation?

‍JOSH LEVI:  Issa Rae, Issa Rae. What an icon. What a boss. All I think of, every time I look at her face, is like, you're just a boss, and I really want to be like you. She's an amazing creative. I think my favorite thing about Issa, which I always talk about, is that she truly trusts the people that she aligns with. I've never once had a conversation with Issa where she tried to change my vision. She's only ever pushed me to lean more into my vision. And I think that's my favorite part of collaborating with her. And then specifically for this album, she just wanted to constantly be involved in my thought process, not to really add or take away from where I was at, but to stay close to what my goals were. And that's another thing I really appreciate about her. From day one, we listened to every track, and we talked about the meaning and the intention behind each record. We’ll go on random dinners, and she will ask me what my goals are, what I would like to do, and the things I would like to invest in my fans. The ways I'd like to continue to cultivate and facilitate a club Levi Space, in the world. She was at my LA show during the tour, screaming in the balcony. She's so supportive of everything that I would like to go after. She's there to be like, "Okay, let's figure out how we do this."

‍EMEM IKPOT: Yeah, she really is a true force of nature.

‍JOSH LEVI: Force is a great word.

‍EMEM IKPOT: What was your experience like working on Turning Red? Those vocals are crazy. They still live in my head rent-free!

‍JOSH LEVI: Hahaha, Thank you! That whole experience was unexpected. Billie Eilish and Phineas did all of the music for that film, so they had me in mind as a member of Four Town, and it just came across my table—and it was an immediate yes. I'm the biggest Pixar fan. My favorite movies of all time are animated, one of which is the Incredibles, which is another Pixar film. I was just like, what? I get to voice a character with brown skin who can sing soulfully? In the Pixar Zeitgeist World? Absolutely, yes. That was a really dope experience. We recorded everything at Disney studios, and it was dope. It was really, really special. It’s very interesting the different places where people join the Josh party. Some people just joined the party through HYDRAULIC, some people through my song on Insecure, then the most random stuff, like, just random YouTube videos, and then there's a group of people that’s like–so I found you through Turning Red and I've been locked in with you ever since! 

EMEM IKPOT: There’s a massive difference between opening for someone and being the person the entire room is there to see. What was this experience like on tour? 

‍JOSH LEVI: I mean, you said it best, like, when you're opening, the energy is —let me bring people into my world for, like, 15 to 20 minutes. There may be some fans of Josh out there, but my primary job is to make everybody feel what I’m feeling for the next 15 minutes, and then they can go on to the person that they really came here for. For the HYDRAULIC tour, the Josh Levi experience, it was completely different. It's my sole responsibility to facilitate an experience for all the people who spent their time driving to, flying to, or taking the train to my show. To really cultivate a night that has my name on it. And that's something that I take a lot of pride and responsibility in. I feel responsible for the whole experience.‍

So it's different, you know? There's a different level of commitment, passion, and a mantle that I feel like I have. It was really special for me, you know, walking out on those stages and seeing a packed room, seeing a sold-out room. Not something I take for granted at all. I had people flying from Shanghai, five, six, seven, even eight hours away. This was an 11-city tour. I didn't do as many dates as I will in the future. So a lot of my fans were traveling to see me, but then it being me, you know, on the ticket, that's a different level of like…I can't lean on anybody else.

‍EMEM IKPOT: Your album aesthetic is so distinct — from the leather, the textures, the "Rodeo" imagery. How challenging was it to translate that high-fashion, cinematic world into a live touring environment where you have to balance your look with the raw athleticism of your choreography?

‍JOSH LEVI: I love this question. So HYDRAULIC has a gritty, auto body, Pimp My Ride, Fast and Furious energy to it. The alter ego in this album is a car mechanic. The car mechanic represents Mr. Hydraulic, the mechanic who's constantly doing repairs and maintenance on my heart, my mind, and my well-being. To stay functioning as this well-oiled machine throughout my life experiences and the craziness of the world, the mechanic is steadily working. I really wanted to commit to this concept throughout the album, while also bringing it to life on tour, which is why a lot of the fashion was between moto auto body stuff to actual mechanic jumpsuits, where I had like, literal dirt on my face, my arms, and on some of my shirts, to really commit to the story. That's what inspired the fashion story of the album. And also, the spirit of Texas in Houston was a source of inspiration. It's always combining, you know, the grills and the sideways hats and some of the silhouettes of Houston culture and sweat and mixing it with these auto body worlds that represented the narrative of the album.

EMEM IKPOT: Now that the tour is officially over, what's the one thing you've learned from this run that you want to carry into the next one? Is there something you saw that the fans reacted to, or maybe something you felt that you want to really implement in your next tour? What's next for you?

‍JOSH LEVI: This tour showed me so much. First, they want way more merch from me than I thought, that's one. I think building my world in terms of fashion and merchandise is something that I'm excited to lean into, which is something I've always wanted to do. And then sonically, my fans like high-energy stuff. I've always been the guy who brought energy to R&B. That's important to me. And this story showed me that I should continue that, even though it makes for a very tiring set. It's quite the exercise, but I see that my fans want nothing less than that. That's been dope. What's next for me is HYDRAULIC, Deluxe. More shows, I'm coming to Europe. A few festivals this summer and collaborations. I think this tour showed me something that my fans have already told me, which they also tell me every day. They tell me that there is a place for my sound and there's a place for my music. And of course, I believe that, but seeing them, seeing a room full of people screaming the songs, knowing every single word. It just hits different. It really energized me to continue to lean into as much Josh Levi as I can and less of the outside voices of who people think I should be. I’ve learned to lean into myself and trust my instinct, which was really educational for me. And I'll never get the picture of the faces of the Levi legends out of my brain. The joy and the love of singing word for word into their eyes. That's a feeling that I am taking with me in the studio every day. It's been so inspiring. I'm keeping that spirit in the music. As an artist, these are the moments that you live for. You can't pay for those moments.

Emem-Esther U. Ikpot 
@ememIK46
(Instagram/Substack/ememikpot.com) 

For years, Afrobeats has travelled globally as a relatively unified cultural export. With sounds rhythmic, vibrant, and immediately recognisable, rooted in dance music, movement, optimism, and charisma. As artists experiment with different influences, Afrobeats remained a recognisable centre to what the world understood as a polished but collective image of African cool. 

However, something has changed in the Nigerian pop culture over the last few decades, and it is recognisable. Its biggest stars no longer sound alike, market themselves alike, or even emotionally represent Africa in the same way. The rise of Asake, Rema and Tems suggests that Nigerian music is entering a new phase where artists are no longer giving the same version of African identity to the world. This is not the collapse of Afrobeats. It’s the fragmentation which may be the clearest indicator that Nigerian pop culture is maturing. 

For a long time, African artists have been expected to function as cultural representatives before they could exist as individuals. Global success often came with the burden of how their music had to “introduce” Africa to the world in ways that their international audience could understand comfortably. The pressure to remain recognisably  African while sounding globally accessible shone brightly, which is why they had to conform because the industry rewarded familiarity. 

The new generation of Nigerian artists is beginning to erase and reject that collective responsibility. They are onto building distinct artistic worlds instead. 

Rema is one of the artists who barely behaves as if he is interested in preserving traditional ideas for the African market. His music draws inspiration from Afrobeats, trap, futuristic pop production and internet-age, chaos all at once. Visually, he operates less like a traditional Popstar and more like a digitally assembled global youth figure with his Gothic styling, anime reference, rebellious unpredictability and emotionally unstable aesthetics.

What Rema makes important is not his commercial success. It is what his success represents culturally. He signals the arrival of a Nigerian artist who is no longer interested in explaining Africa to the world. His music asks to be consumed on its own terms. 

The confidence marks a shift. Earlier generations of Nigerian stars often presented Africanness as a collective identity. Rema presents identity as fluid, fragmented and personal. His music does not ask to be interpreted through the lens of “African authenticity”. It asks to be consumed as culture on its own terms. In many ways, he represents the internetification of Nigerian pop culture, an era where artists are shaped as much by online subculture as they are by local musical traditions. And there is Asake, who appears to move in a completely different direction. 

Where Rema feels culturally borderless, Asake feels aggressively rooted, and he explores it. His music is packed with Yoruba slang, Fuji cadences, street spirituality and local textures that would once have been considered too culturally specific for mainstream global crossover. Yet it travels anyway. 

This is what makes Asake important. For years, there was an unspoken assumption that global success required dilution, where African artists could succeed internationally, but only after softening the local edges of their sound. However, Asake’s rise disrupts this logic completely. Instead of reducing cultural specificity, he intensifies it. Quietly, it has been proven that as he doubles down on local language, rhythm and identity, the audience across the world is willing to engage with Nigerian music without demanding translation first. This matters as it reflects a broader cultural power shift. 

Tems represents the most radical of all. Unlike older expectations placed on African stars, Tems does not perform exuberance for a global audience. Her music is restrained, atmospheric and emotionally inward. She comes through feelings rather than spectacle. Even her vocal delivery resists excess. 

What Tems exports is not just sound but mood. This distinction reveals how pop culture is becoming increasingly individualistic. Tems operate from introspection.  Her artistry is rooted in solitude, vulnerability and emotional ambiguity. She is not trying to embody a continent; she is trying to express herself. And the global audience is responding to that, honestly. 

Together, Rema, Asake and Tems reveal a setting larger than musical diversity. They reveal the collapse of a singular African pop identity. This may sound alarming to people invested in preserving Afrobeats as a stable cultural category, but it is a sign of creative expansion. Mature cultural industries do not produce one aesthetic language forever; instead, they diversify and create subcultures, contradictions and competing artistic identities. American pop music does not sound one way, nor does Latin or K-pop, which are increasingly fragmented. Nigerian music would inevitably reach this point. 

This is why conversations about Nigerian music often feel confused right now. The category itself is struggling to contain the reality of what Nigerian artists are becoming. The confusion, however, is necessary because Nigerian pop culture is not a singular sound. 

The fragmentation of Afrobeats should not be mistaken for weakness. It is evidence that the culture is becoming expansive enough to contain multiple selves at once. Nigerian music is no longer exporting one African identity to the world. It is exporting individuals.

‍ IG: anuhola_

Ben P is waiting. His artist SINYM is late to the studio - phone calls answered but with excuses, the beat sitting ready on the speakers with nobody to record it. Three episodes in, and the internet recognised the joke immediately. Ben P is BNXN. SINYM is Sarz. The roles are reversed. And somehow that reversal is the most incredible way to release ‘The Game Needs Us’ after a single track had already been heard.

Sarz is not simply a producer. He is an architect. ‘Gwagwalada’ with BNXN. ‘Nzaza’ and ‘Feelings’ with Lojay on ‘LV N ATTN’ - the benchmark for producer-artist chemistry in Nigerian music. ‘Protect Sarz At All Costs’, his debut album, was a declaration of creative identity that the industry was not entirely ready for. Across every era of contemporary Afrobeats, Sarz has been in the room -often the most important person in it. BNXN is the other side of that equation. Grammy-nominated, coming off CAPTAIN, one of the most precise songwriters in Afrofusion - a vocalist who understands production well enough to play Ben P convincingly for three episodes of a social show. It is the product of years spent paying attention to the people making the music underneath him.

Two people at the peak of their individual crafts. One EP. Five tracks entirely produced by Sarz. Released via EMPIRE, the project expands on the duo’s celebrated chemistry following previous releases including ‘Gwagwalada’ and ‘Pidgin & English’, combining Afrofusion, Afrobeats, and contemporary pop influences.

‘Rum & Soda’ opens the EP where it finds its footing - melodic, easy, the kind of song that doesn’t ask for your attention but gets it anyway. ‘Back Outside’ follows with a different kind of weight. The lead single debuted at number one on Apple Music Nigeria, accumulating more than 22 million streams and two million video views in two weeks.  But the number is only part of the story. What makes the track significant is what BNXN chose to build it around - an interpolation of Amadou & Mariam’s ‘Ko Neye Mounka Allah La’, taken from the legendary Malian duo’s 1990 album, sung in Bambara. The phrase translates roughly to “what God has given.” Underneath a song about returning to the spotlight after lying low, that choice is not decorative. It is a declaration that what he has was given, that the roots of this music run deeper than any chart position, and that coming back outside means something more than a release date.

‘Emotional High’ sits in that particular mood of wanting something you’re already in the middle of having. The production keeps delivering, and you keep wanting more of it - the most quietly greedy track on the EP. ‘Frank Sinatra’ closes on the most introspective note, a quiet and considered ending for a project that could easily have gone louder.

‘The Game Needs Us’ sits in the same territory as ‘I Love Girls with Trouble’ - not in sound, but in what it feels like to listen to two people who genuinely understand each other’s instincts. BNXN said: “This project brings together two of Nigeria’s greatest forces to deliver a refreshing yet reflective experience. To show the dynamics in the African sound and to give a feel of where the future of the sound is headed.”  Billboard Africa put it more plainly: the EP feels less like a reunion and more like a reminder of what happens when two architects of the sound lock back in.

BNXN and Sarz put the most honest thing about the Nigerian music industry into a social show, then backed it with five tracks that prove why both sides of that dynamic matter. The game needs a producer. The game needs the artist.

IG:@ffeistyhuman

After only catching glimpses of her in photos on her Tumblr late 2025, a connection was finally made with the South London-based artist earlier this year when, this time, the then-twenty-one-year old was miming and vibing in another music video for a song they had just released exclusively on the blogging platform. The music escapes memory, but the muted colours, handheld cam and retro grain of the picture remain. And when you finally settle into Sade Olutola’s music, the last piece of the puzzle, it all makes sense.

Olutola’s Tumblr community is a slice of the blog’s quiet revival being fuelled by young people and their 2010s nostalgia. But this isn’t just a Tumblr affair for the British-Nigerian. From shooting music videos on multiple iPhone 4s, to the digicam aesthetic of her photos, and the bloomers, the net pop socks and gloves, vintage boots, leopard prints, and the chunky spiral pendants, brick by brick, Sade Olutola is reaching for, and building a world inspired by her, and her nostalgia. In May 2026, Deeds Magazine sat down with Olutola in an exclusive conversation to discuss her music, world-building, and the different shades of her person.

Fortune, for Deeds Magazine:

Hi Sade! How’re you doing?

Sade Olutola:

Hi Fortune! I’m good. How’re you?

I’m good, too. Great to finally have you. How was your session?

I’m still in it. It’s been amazing.

Oh, great. And how often do you do these sessions?

Honestly, I've been working a lot recently, so it's just once a week. But I'm trying to quit my job to do music full-time, so hopefully it'd be like three, four times a week, and from there I would like to be in the studio every day.

That's cool. I thought it was chill how quickly you responded to my Tumblr Ask the other day.

Oh, no, I feel like Tumblr is the best way to reach me, honestly.

I thought so.

Yeah. Because no one's on there, and I like that.

Exactly: no one's on there.

All these other apps, Oh My God. And I liked your little note. It was so cute. I love that you're Nigerian as well. Stand up!

Haha, yeah. And it was on Tumblr that I first found you, too. That was like last year.

Oh, really? Wait, you found me on Tumblr? 

Yeah. And it was surprising how the algorithm brought you my way. A friend had made me join just a while before. Then one day, while scrolling, I saw a Nigerian name: Sade Olutola. And the rest is history.

Really? 

Yeah. And so it’s crazy that we're having this interview right now.

That’s my favorite story. Like, it's so authentic. Because nobody's on there, do you understand?  You have to be a very special kind of amazing person to find me there.

Taking that as a compliment. I think what about you I find the most fascinating is the painstakingness of your world-building: Your Tumblr, the dressing, the music—the way they all come together. And you come across to me as an artist with … ‘musical patience.’ Am I right? 

Yes, thank you. I'm very specific. Even to my own detriment. The amount of stress I put my producer through to get my EP out is insane.

Luca? 

Yeah, Luca, yeah. You know my whole life story, wow.

Haha. Been doing my homework.

Yes, yes, you have. I love that.

Do you then think your music is the soundtrack for this world, or it's a separate thing?

No, I think I am the source. When I decide to make a visual, that is coming from me. And when I decide to make music, that's coming from me. So I think what ties my brand together is me. I want everything to be true to myself. Whenever I go about stuff, I have these three pillars: nostalgia, community, and authenticity. So I think that's what makes all I do feel cohesive. I am always trying, trying to be as true to myself as I possibly can.

I feel that. What did you listen to before 11? 

That's actually a good question. Before 11, um, I wasn't listening to Ed Sheeran—Oh, I think I was just listening to whatever was on the radio, from movies and stuff. And I remember I liked that song, “Uptown Funk” by Bruno Mars. I loved the black pop girls, too. Rihanna, Nicki, Beyonce. I knew that I loved them. But when I got my iPods at 11, I locked in. And that was the foundation.

Like you were in control. 

Yeah, do you see what I mean?

Interesting because I've seen stories of the Ed Sheeran phase, and been curious about what was before that.

That's a very good question, actually, because I haven't talked about that.

Growing up on Tumblr, were there any artists that you fangirled on there?

So, I'm not gonna lie, I went through a K-pop phase. So if you scroll down my Tumblr, you'll see that it's lots of BTS, haha.

Oh, wow.

Yeah, so I was really, really into BTS back then. But besides that, I was actually on Tumblr for artsy reasons. I would look at photographs and all. It was more of the artsy side than music.

You know, this makes sense because I was reading something like two weeks ago on this curator, and she mentioned that it was on Tumblr that she first found her connection with the contemporary African visual artists that shaped her introduction to the field. Artists like Lana Del Rey and Tyler, the Creator, too, who built on Tumblr, also suggest a trend of visual-oriented artists using the blog in those days. And I think you are, too.

Yeah, I am. On my iPod, there was Beyoncé's self-titled visual album. She made a music video for every song, so I was inspired by that. Honestly, I'm not going to lie, when Beyonce said that, Oh, she's the first person to do that, I was thinking, I would have done that anyway, haha. I always thought, when you've written a hard song, and you put it out, why is there not a video to it? I always want to see a video. So, “Arrow Heart”, my EP, is a visual album. I'm working on a music video for each single, every one. ‘Game for Two’ is coming out soon, so look out for that. 

Oh, I'm looking forward to that.

Thank you.

Talking about Beyonce, what do you like about the song with J. Cole, ‘Party’?

That's my favourite song! But did you know that, though? 

Haha yeah, I did.

Haha, how did you find that out? That's so random. I never put that out anywhere. Anyway, I love that song. It’s so amazing because I like how she calls Ay, Ay in the chorus, making actual party sounds. I think that's genius. And then J. Cole's verse, oh, it's just so silly and fun and embodies what it feels like to party. It also sounds old-school, and I just love anything that sounds a little bit retro. The vocals are amazing too—it's Beyonce, what do you mean?

Haha right. In that case, which rapper would you say has had the most influence on you? Because it looks like ‘Party’ for you is more of Beyonce than the J.Cole feature.

Yeah, but he carried, though—I'm not gonna lie. Rappers that influence me, I'm not gonna lie, the reason I rap is because of Ed Sheeran. I would listen to “Multiply” on repeat every night. I learned all the lyrics back to back, and I didn't even know what Genius was. Number two, I love A Tribe Called Quest, love Q-Tip, love Kanye West as well. But my style, the way that I sing, that I rap, is literally from Ed Sheeran.

Baba mi sọ fún mi / Sade, take it easy / Listen to your daddy. What song is that?

Yo, that song is so bad. Haha.

Is it?

Haha, that song is so … That's like the worst thing I've ever written. 

Haha, no, I don’t think it was that bad. 

No, I was spitting, though. (Hums the chorus)

The flow.

It was a vibe.

Still remember the title? 

Yeah, it's, wait—it's ‘Sọ fun mi’

That's it, yeah. Was that when you were in Nigeria?

No, actually. That was when I came back, when I was 18. 

So, is there any chance this Nigerianness would ever get into your music again? 

Yes, definitely. Do you know Cruel Santino?

What? He’s like my top-three.

I have to make something with him. He's like my favourite artist. I really want to go into the alté scene. I want people to know that I'm Nigerian.

I feel like if you were Nigerian-based, you’d be on the alté scene.

Exactly. I feel like the alté scene is just waiting for me.

What was the feeling like at the release party?

Oh, I was overwhelmed. I couldn't believe that I had a fan base out in America, so I was really shocked that so many people came to support me. And their vibe was all bubbly and fun. London has this very ‘tush’ vibe, stiff, but no, no, my listeners aren't like that, but it was crazy that I was meeting strangers, and they were all acting like I'm their sister. I really appreciated that.

I can imagine that. So you’ve also said that you buy bouquets weekly. Tell me about that.

Oh, I do that because I realized that as we grow older, we start to take less care of ourselves and prioritize work and doing hard things to push our career and stuff. And I feel like when you're overworking yourself, it’s a form of abuse in some way, or just not giving yourself any time. So for me, my gift to myself every week is to make sure that there are fresh flowers on my table. It’s a very small thing, but when I look at my new flowers, they make me happy, and, honestly, everybody needs to just work a bit harder to take care of themselves. That’s like my little idea of fun, and it keeps me sane.

Deep.

Laughs.

Yeah, really. So. Why nostalgia?

Nostalgia because, I'm not gonna lie, I feel like it's because I didn't really have an exciting childhood. I think that's why I'm always trying to ... Like me trying to create the childhood that I wanted. And also, I love things that feel old; they feel like home. In this day and age, things are moving too fast, like AI—things are getting faster and, I don't know, there's just beauty in how old things used to be, and how processes took longer, how things were simpler. I think I'm just trying to cling to that by making my visuals feel like those times. Nostalgia feels like safety, do you know what I mean?

Yeah, I feel you. Because, even in theory, nostalgia is romantic: how it has to do with selective remembering, filtering comfort times, and helping you revisit these moments, without actually returning. 

Yeah, literally. Definitely. Makes a lot of sense. 

What does visibility feel like now to you, Sade?

Honestly, I feel blessed. I feel like God has helped me do my thing, and I'm just very grateful to him. And, I'm just trying to take it easy, slowly, step-by-step, because I get imposter syndrome sometimes.

I mean, that's unavoidable.

Yeah, or, like, it happens that I comment something, and someone gets excited and I’m like, I'm literally nobody, can you calm down? Haha. I’ve had people stop me in public and go ‘Oh, I listen to your music.’ And I’m like, you do? I haven't really adjusted to people actually knowing me. It’s insane. In my mind, obviously, I'm the same person, because I'm me. But I still can't just believe it.

Do you also ever think that this visibility, because of how generic it can get, could threaten your aesthetic?

One thing about me is I’m going to be true to myself throughout. I like things that are authentic, and I think that is something that the music industry is missing: everything is so clean and polished. So I would like to stay as raw and DIY as I possibly can, and I think that is what makes my brand special. I don't think there's any need to change, even if there's money, big labels and stuff, like, I would always be true to myself.

And I feel like one can always tell when someone is truly being authentic, and I can say I see that in you.

Thank you. 

Also, I like those leopard-print soles.

Thank you. Thank you, I love that.

I think another fascinating thing about you, to me, apart from the world building, is how your style has evolved over the years. I came upon a couple of old videos of you in white and black and I thought, Oh, it's been a long time coming. But it was also beautiful to see that growth arc. 

Yeah! I'm scared, do you know where I live? 

Ha! Maybe. I might.

Haha, yeah, I went through a little emo phase. I feel like I’m still evolving. Fashion, for me, is not over.

That's great. Talking about fashion, obviously you are best known for music, but I know there're other things you do: painting, designing. But music is the most popular. How then do you tend to these other interests, without neglecting them, and while trying to not get boxed?

Do you know something? It's a battle right now. Because music is taking a lot of my time, and I also work. But I really want to be known as an artist, not just music, because I am really quite good at painting. And I also really enjoy designing. So what I do for now is paint on weekends, do sketches and everything, but there will be a time where I'll take that very seriously also and promote it just as hard as my music, because I feel like there isn't anybody doing that. The closest person I can think of is one of my biggest inspirations, Mowalola. 

Oh I know her. 

Basically I'm gonna be Mowalola and Slawn if they were one. That's it, that's it, that's it! 

Haha I get that. If you were to make a Nigerian playlist of five artists, who would be on it? 

Listen: Luwa.Mp4! (Sings CYK BADDIE) 

I like that song.

So much. Then his sister, Indi.

Oh, Indi’s good.

She is. I love her so much. Then, I guess Mowalola—she's got some bangers. And Rema! That’s actually my favorite artist of all time in the Afrobeats scene. I’ll literally die for that—

Hmm, are you sure this is just about the music?

Hahaha he’s also a very fine boy. But um, we’re not gonna talk about that. Anyway, I have one more artist. Trying to think …

Tems?

Tems! Sorry, she's my favorite! I love her so much. A vocal killer. 

Was it ‘Replay’, the song of hers you were trying to play the guitar to? 

I can't believe you found that by the way. I'm terrified.

You should be haha. We haven't talked about “Arrow Heart”, imagine. 

It's okay. People always ask me about that, so it's like I have to repeat the same thing.

True. On the EP, ‘Ready 4 It’ is my favourite. What do you think about that?

Wow, I love that. I appreciate that. Because ‘Ready 4 It’, I feel like it's a hard song to sonically digest. So if you like ‘Ready 4 It’, you just have taste.

Right, thank you. I like ‘Grey Matter’ a lot too because of how visual it is to me. I feel like the EP is a non-linear story. Well, that's if it's about one person. As a heartbreak album, I was wondering if the stories were all about the same guy, or—

Yes!

The same guy?

The same guy! 

That's crazy.

That's crazy!

That must have been one big rollercoaster.

Like... If I tell you! 

Because, there was a point where it was all good. That's probably on ‘Grey Matter’. Like a low-key relationship, and then there was ‘2099’ where you clocked that he was cheating, and on ‘Don’t Bother’ he's trying to explain why he cheated and you’re saying ‘Nah, don’t bother, man.’

Yeah, literally.

And then there was ‘Ready 4 It’ where it’s like he’s trying to apologize but you’re giving him your conditions. On ‘Game for Two’ you have come to terms with the reality of the relationship. It is tense, & there’s the tone of resignation that makes it just a perfect way to close the EP.

Wow, you really studied my work. I’m honored. Thank you for that.

It’s my pleasure. Enjoyed it. So, I got a song rec for you, Sade.

Oh, thank you. What is it?

‘Omoge Wa Jo’.

Wait, but I love that song!

You know the OG version, too?

Oh, the one that he sampled?

Yeah, the one he sampled.

Oh, okay.

I love that one as well. But listen to the OG version.

I will.

Now, your turn.

Oh. Um, Indi's new song!

Oh, I saw that. But I haven't listened yet, so I’m going to.

I can’t remember what it's called. I think it's only on YouTube. She ate that up.

I'll check. It was a pleasure having you around, Sade.

Oh, likewise. You’re great. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.

I hope you have an amazing end to your session, too. 

IG: @fortuneakande
Photo Credits: Sade Olutola Team

Most artists want to be seen immediately. But up-and-coming Nigerian Afrobeats/Pop singer-songwriter Brume doesn’t really operate like that. Instead, his music feels less like an announcement and more like something you ease into over time–building slowly, almost quietly, until you realise you’ve been listening for longer than you intended.

Born William Okukulabe Oghenetejiri (aka Yano Boy), Brume has been shaping a fresh, upbeat and melodic sound within the new wave of contemporary African music, seen in his debut EP Rockstar, blending Afrobeats, highlife influences, and vibrant percussion into a bold, youthful emotionally aware body of work, with tracks like “Your Woman,” “Bum Bum”, and “Last Card” revealing an artist equally comfortable in confidence as he is in vulnerability–a trait that’s positioned him as one of Nigeria’s rising talents, gaining steady regional recognition. 

But what makes Brume compelling isn’t simply the music; it’s the mindset shaping it. “Presently, I’m leaning into who I am,” he tells Deeds. “If you pay attention, it sounds like it’s more than one person singing when you hear my songs, so I’m letting my multiple personalities have fun on every record. That way I embrace how my brain thinks…there’s always something new for every record.”

That restlessness is written all over his artistry. While Afrobeats continues to dominate globally, Brume belongs to a younger crop of artists stretching its boundaries rather than simply reproducing its most commercial forms. Across his catalogue, he pulls from alté textures, softer melodies, and emotionally driven songwriting without ever fully committing to one lane. The result is a sound that resists easy placement, not because it’s trying to be genreless, but because emotion sits at the centre of everything.

And for Brume, that emotional honesty comes from lived experience. “To me, music is art,” he says. “I grew up in a military background, going to military school. My emotions were suppressed…the only way I get to speak and talk is through my music. I just want my listeners to feel everything I’ve taught myself to feel.”

That vulnerability, paired with his melodic control, is what separates Brume from many of his peers in a scene that often prioritises immediacy. His latest release “Many Girls” in March alongside Thizislondon, the renowned record producer and DJ whose work with Rema, Ayra Starr, 6LACK [has helped shape the current sound of mainstream Afrobeats]; marked perhaps his biggest co-sign yet–and a glimpse into what comes next, without forcing Brume to abandon what makes his music distinct describing the (dubbed) hot-girl anthem as, “...showcasing a personality nobody has seen from me. I keep evolving. I hate doing the same thing...”

That may be Brume’s biggest strength right now. His artistry doesn’t feel engineered for virality or built around predictable formulas. Instead, it relies on something harder to manufacture: mood, restraint, and a willingness to keep evolving. Not every artist benefits from that kind of slow discovery. Brume does!

IG:@_stanleykilonzo

Sophia Wanjiku quit her job as a domestic worker in Thika, Kenya at the end of 2020 and made a decision that had no obvious commercial logic: she would record vocals in Kikuyu, a language the industry had long treated as too regional, local, and small, and sell them as sample packs to producers she had never met. This week, the Kenyan singer, performing under her stage name Sofiya Nzau, crossed 750 million total streams on Spotify. No East African artist has done that before

Her path to that number came from an unlikely source. Brazilian DJ Zerb was on Splice, a paid sample licensing platform, searching for a vocal that could anchor a beat he had built. He spent about an hour browsing before he found a Kikuyu vocal clip that matched his instrumental's key exactly. He did not know what the lyrics meant. He reached out to Nzau on Instagram, she told him the song was about a woman fighting for a love her parents refused to accept, and he finished the track. “Mwaki”, which means "fire" in Kikuyu, was released on 10 November 2023. Within weeks, it was viral on TikTok, and within months, it had hit No. 1 on Spotify's Global Viral Chart and spawned remixes from Tiësto, Major Lazer, and Franky Wah. The original track is sung entirely in Kikuyu. Not a word of English.

Following Mwaki's global breakthrough, Nzau became the first East African artist to surpass 10 million monthly listeners on Spotify, held the title of the most-listened-to Kenyan artist on the platform for a significant stretch of 2025, and released “Wacuka” with German producer AVAION, a collaboration that crossed 60 million streams, with Germany emerging as her single largest market.
She participated in Tomorrowland's exclusive Lab of Tomorrow songwriting camp before taking the main stage in Boom, Belgium, becoming the first Kenyan and East African artist to ever perform at the festival, before a crowd of over 400,000. Her European tour kicked off on 13 July 2025 with a sold-out show in Amsterdam, taking her through Berlin, Paris and London. Ahead of the performance, Nzau spoke about what the European tour meant to her, describing it as life-changing and saying the love she felt from fans there in person was something she had not expected at that scale.
PLS&TY's track Your Love (Antdot Remix), which features Nzau, later landed on the official EA Sports FC 26 soundtrack alongside artists including Ed Sheeran.

East Africa has produced world-class female talent for years, talent that has largely been celebrated within the region while the global industry looked elsewhere. Tanzania's Zuchu, a Bongo Flava singer, became the first female East African artist to earn YouTube's Gold Play Button. Kenya's Nikita Kering, an Afropop singer,  swept AFRIMA's Best Female Artist in East Africa award twice. These women did sustained, decorated work. None of them has cracked global streaming numbers at this scale, and that is not a reflection of their talent.

It is a reflection of how slowly the global industry moves on African women, until it cannot ignore the numbers any longer. Sofiya Nzau did not wait for a label co-sign or a feature from a bigger name. She uploaded vocal packs during a pandemic and let the music do what the industry said it could not. The path she has carved is real. The question now is who walks through it next.

IG: @zoannafr

Meet the Rising Star PatricKxxLee

It’s not Alté, it’s not Afrofusion, and it’s not the UK underground either. This is a whole movement of its own. We’ve been observing, we can feel it in our bones, but we haven’t been able to coin a term as a community just yet, while this underground soundwave is slowly boiling onto the surface. From Brotherkupa, Igwe Aka, Zaylevelten, Kayode, Paxslim and now PatricKxxLee–the UG (In short for underground music) movement has pushed niche African artists to be more creative and thoughtful about how they build an audience. We believe that Patrick, or R!CK, is at the forefront.

One thing about R!CK you must know is that he’s not new to this. He has been dropping music projects since the earliest of 2016. At the time, the US underground, or SoundCloud era, as some might call it, was booming, and all eyes were on this group of kids who seemingly had no care in the world and just wanted to make hit songs. Although we can not confirm, surely Patrick was inspired and wanted to live up to this momentum. Until now, we have begun to see the Zambian Boy benefitting from the fruit of his own labour.

To establish UG, not only will it take consistency and resilience, which are all things that Patrick has proven to have, but also the boldness to want to offer something different. While a set of genres work well and dominate the African continent, such as Afrobeats and Amapiano, taken from the spirit of both the US & UK diaspora, the underground scene sits on the underbelly and garners enough attention to be discussed. What sets UG apart is that they don’t cater to the music industry; they focus on growing a core fanbase, and whereas usually concerts and public appearances are the stronghold for an artist’s growth, the internet is their main stage.

Much like movements in the past, there are key elements we can already attribute to the main artists participating in UG. Those are: low-budget videos, nostalgic streetwear/Opium fashion, distinctive samples, African imageries and internet culture. That being said, it is not as easy as it looks, where one can simply group them all together and determine whether they will grow collectively or end up following different paths entirely.

Back to PatricKxxLee; he allows us to touch on a part of the world that most people know little of. Besides Zambian cloth, we don’t know enough about its culture, and music artists that represent the country. Patrick becomes the bridge to this reconciliation, and the fact that he has been repping his roots for so long and stands alone in amplifying the UG scene in Zambia makes it easy for him to stand out and conquer. From clips circulating online, we can see that Partick not only leads the new wave in his region, but also shows that there is a passionate Zambian audience seeking representation in the alternative soundscape.

Whether UG or underground music in Africa will truly take shape is yet to be determined; however, what we can be sure of is that its active members are working to make this movement last. For some, it might seem like yet another internet trend, destined to be placed on the curb as soon as another subgenre or subculture takes notice and people find a reason to become obsessed with it. But this is a real thing, and its audience is certainly there for the long run. From the online engagement, showing up to concerts and participating in the aesthetic, UG has a clear chance to make a lasting statement. Who knows? PatricKxxLee could be the voice that UG enthusiasts didn’t see coming.

When you press play on Kehlani's self-titled fifth album, one thing is clear: Kehlani is a true student of R&B. Her new album confirms the place she has earned in today's R&B scene. If that wasn’t proven by her GRAMMY win earlier this year for “Folded,” the rest of the album makes it obvious that her voice is a force in the genre.​

Cloud 19 was her first mixtape, released in 2011, and since then, her career has included eight musical projects and five studio albums. The fifth being her self-titled, and indicative of a real insight that shows how far she has come and just how true she has been throughout her career. The gratification of earning her first GRAMMY 10 years after her first nomination is a real indication of all that she is and the love she has long been due.​

With production credits from the likes of Andre Harris, Don Mills, Khris Riddick-Tynes, Jimmy Jam, and Terry Lewis, to name a few, it is no wonder that the album has a rich quality as you play through the 17 tracks.  Sonically, there is enough variety to showcase different parts of Kehalni whilst still bringing it together in a way that is solid and definitely a contender for another GRAMMY if we do predict so ourselves.

The intro opens with spoken word on growth and “A voice stepping into its truth with no fears, no filters, no apologies.” The album’s first song features Lil Wayne on “Another Luva” and instantly recalls themes and sounds from her debut, SweetSexySavage. Lil Wayne is just one of the strong features here, joined by Virginia rap duo, R&B icons Brandy and Usher, T-Pain & Lil Jon, Cardi B, Big Sean, and Leon Thomas. Each feature adds its own flair, and Kehlani keeps pace with all.

Standout moments include the Brandy featured “I Need You”, which blends the voices of Kehlani and that of the vocal bible perfectly as they sing against the production of Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, with Brandy taking a verse of her own and coming together about still needing a significant other after the end of a relationship. The Missy Elliott feature “Back and Forth” is an ode to Aaliyah’s back-and-forth, encapsulating her vibe across the tracks. Usher’s “Should’ve Neva” plays straight from the school of Usher and is a great blend of the two together in a regretful situation. Kehlani and Cardi B’s musical chemistry has been on display across two songs now: “Ring,” “Safe,” and now “Pocket.” The sexually charged sees Cardi bring a verse that will no doubt be a standout for fans. Leon Thomas’s “Sweet Nuthins” feels like the representation of the new R&B on the album. Having joined him on his last album, he returns the favour with a song that really shows the two of them as the voices of R&B that they are. Whilst the features do bring that element to the album. Kehlani’s solo performances shine on their own, thanks to the quality she delivers. “Cruise Control” is a smooth one that sounds like it would play nicely in the sun. The album closer, “Unlearn,” is a self-reflective track and a perfect fit for the album.

The album ultimately feels like a real lesson in love, reflecting Kehlani's present chapter with insight and depth. With this release, Kehlani not only reaffirms her place in R&B but also sets the stage for continued evolution. It is a testament to her growth, her authenticity, and the powerful journey she invites listeners to share. This project is more than a collection of songs—it's a resonant milestone that points to a promising future. 

Drake the 6 God, Tayc the King of Afrolove, and Lucki have all confirmed May 15, 2026  as a release date for their upcoming albums.

Drake's ninth studio album Iceman has been one of the most anticipated releases in recent memory. The project sits as the first full-length solo album following his very public rap battle with Kendrick Lamar in 2024. And so far, the rollout has been nothing short of eventful, with Drake appearing across livestreams, teasing unreleased music in raw snippets, and letting alternate versions of songs circulate online, he buried the release date inside a giant ice sculpture in downtown Toronto. Fans showed up with pickaxes and hammers. Someone lit part of it on fire. A streamer named Kishka eventually fished a bag out of the ice, made his way to Drake's mansion, and cracked open the packaging to find the date.

On the other side of the Atlantic, Tayc is stepping into the biggest moment of his career. The French-Cameroonian artist built his name on what he calls afrolove, slowburn R&B with African roots that found a massive audience in France and across the diaspora. His debut album Fleur Froide went diamond. JOŸA, his second solo album, is set to mark a darker, more orchestral, and personal turning point. This comes at a time when Tayc is at his most visible, currently sitting as a coach on The Voice in France, which  will lead JOŸA to land in front of the biggest audience of his career.
Fans are anticipating his performance of  the album live at La Seine Musicale in Paris on release day. For a generation of Africans and diaspora kids who grew up between two worlds, Tayc has always been the artist who understood that specific loneliness. 

 Then there is Lucki. The Chicago rapper has been one of underground hip hop's most consistent voices for over a decade, building a cult following through raw, detailed storytelling and a willingness to go places most artists avoid. His fifth studio album is called Dr*gs R Bad, a 26-track project rooted in his personal experience with addiction and recovery. He has been open about his battles with pill dependency and the album looks like his most direct reckoning with that chapter of his life yet.
When fans asked if he would move his date after Drake confirmed May 15, Lucki answered
"Maybe I would push the album back if I didn't have so much new swag. But me & Aubz 5/15 lets go." 

Drake returns with the weight of a career-defining moment on his back, determined to remind the world why he built what he built. Tayc steps into the light he has been quietly earning for years, bringing afrolove to its grandest stage yet. And Lucki shows up honest, with so much to say across 26 tracks.

Destin Conrad’s ‘wHIMSY!’ is a Fever Dream You Won’t Want to Wake From

There’s a specific moment when you press play on a project and realize you’re not just listening to a playlist you’re stepping into someone’s world. With the deluxe drop of wHIMSY!, Destin Conrad has officially moved past the "R&B singer" label.  In many ways, wHIMSY is a transportive, hazy odyssey into what he’s calling "alternative jazz"and it is the most honest he’s ever sounded.

The project sits as a bridge between eras. You’ve got these crisp hi-hats that keep you grounded in the present, but the melodies themselves feel like they’ve been pulled from a 1970s smoke-filled lounge. It’s got that new-age spoken word grit where the lyrics aren't just sung; they’re felt. What’s wild is how Conrad takes the most mundane, everyday topics and makes them feel intoxicatingly sexy. He has this way of romanticizing the "normal" until it feels like a movie scene.

Opening an album is an art, and on the perfectly titled "(MORE)LOVE" starring Jean Deaux   you know you’re about to go on a trip the second it hits. The track is a slow-burn immersion that sets the stage for everything to follow. Jean Deaux’s presence adds a layer of texture that mimics a conversation you’re eavesdropping on. “Diamond Gold” showcases a melodic style and luxurious sound that makes listeners feel sexy. The jazz influence here is velvety and effortless, providing a backdrop for the way he carries himself with such refinement. It doesn’t feel arrogant. "NOTHING IS REAL" (w/ Terrace Martin) is where the "alternative jazz" label really earns its keep. It’s soulful, melodic, and deeply rhythmic. It’s the kind of song that makes you want to close your eyes and let the sound take the wheel. It feels like a core memory you haven't had yet. A lot of albums fizzle out at the end, but "LALALALA" brings it all home. It mirrors the upbeat energy of the start, giving the whole experience a beautiful, full-circle closure. It leaves you with a high-energy buzz, like the sun coming up after a long night out.

wHIMSY is an album that doesn't just play; it breathes. It’s a melodic time machine that manages to feel nostalgic for the past while being obsessed with the future. Conrad isn't just making music anymore he’s building an environment. If you’re looking for a project that feels like a cinematic voyage through sound, this is it. The album is proof that when you stop trying to fit into a genre and start trying to capture a feeling, you end up with something timeless.

On the night of April 20, a six-metre mountain of ice appeared in a Toronto parking lot at 81 Bond Street, cordoned by metal barriers and stamped with four words: "Release date inside." By midnight, it had just about 800 people around it. Police from three divisions. Firefighters. A sign that read "Danger Do Not Touch." Hordes of curious fans. An inspired car giveaway. And a Twitch streamer with a blowtorch to save us all the trouble. 

This was the latest development in Drake's album rollout for "Iceman", his ninth studio album, now confirmed for May 15. For whatever kind of marketing or branding strategy you thought it was, you simply can not look away from the spectacle that it is. Before the big reveal, the stunt had been building for days. Drake's courtside seats at the Toronto Raptors' game against the Brooklyn Nets at Scotiabank Arena were frozen into sculpted ice on April 12, and the footage did not take long to go viral. 

Only days later, a confirmed explosion shook Downsview Park in north Toronto, which the city confirmed as a production tied to the superstar. Then came the announcement of the coordinates from his record label. Then the blocks of ice and chaos. Curiosity had fans climbing the structure, lighting campfires on top of it, and attacking it with anything they could find, including pickaxes and, weirdly unsurprisingly, a blowtorch. 

Twitch streamer Kishka eventually extracted a blue bag marked "Freeze the world,"  while live-streaming the discovery. The rest of the reveal was done at Drake's "The Embassy" mansion, where Kishka, directed by Adin Ross, walked away with a sealed bag of cash as a reward for quite literally breaking the ice. Other items found in the structure included a white t-shirt that read "2026 will be my year" and a blurry selfie of the Canadian rapper.

Drake himself posted his reaction with characteristic grandiosity: "THIS ALBUM BOUT TO PLAY INFINTESEMELY KNOW DAT," and the internet, from experience, will completely oblige him.

From this writer's perspective, it is rather difficult to watch this rollout and not notice what it is also doing beyond the optics. For context, "Iceman" is Drake's first solo album since his 2024 feud with Kendrick Lamar; a period in which he was publicly and comprehensively outmanoeuvred. Kdot's "Not Like Us" became an anthem of his humiliation, and his authority as the dominant figure in hip-hop was genuinely contested for the first time in a decade. 

The ice metaphor throughout this rollout campaign is not neutral. Coldness. Imperviousness. Control. A man preserved beneath the surface, untouched,  and in wait. The rollout is not just clever marketing. It is a carefully constructed counter-narrative that, on Drake's end, buries the conversation about the feud entirely with a louder visual response of unflurried composure.

Ultimately, whether "Iceman" justifies the mythology it has already built is a question for May 15, and given the artist that Drake is, that justification is already in order.

Kenyan R&B singer-songwriter Bridget Blue has quietly built a name for herself through emotionally rich songwriting and a soft, controlled vocal style–first gaining attention through covers before releasing projects like ‘Colours’ (2022) and ‘24’ (2024). With her latest album RNB, she delivers her most cohesive and fully realized work yet.

At just 12 tracks long,RNB feels less like a playlist and more like a slow-burning conversation, one that unfolds with intention and emotional precision. It’s a project that trusts its own pace and in doing so, invites you to sit with it. Across the album, Blue leans fully into a sound that feels intentional, unhurried and deeply rooted in emotion, reaffirming her place in the ever-evolving Kenyan R&B landscape.

Blue describes the album as,”[me being] bare and vulnerable and just pouring my whole soul. It’s what I truly wanted to say for so long.” From the opening notes of ‘Ngozi Kama Jua,’ there’s an immediate sense that this is not just a collection of songs, but a carefully constructed body of work. Tracks like ‘Ni Wewe’ and ‘Mbuzi’ glide into ‘Sober’ with a natural ease, each record feeling like a response to the last. 

By the midpoint of ‘9 to 5’ [Blue’s rebuff of the pressures to be more digestible, singing, "I'm too pretty for a nine-to-five / Too loud for a quiet life / Biting my tongue just to stay polite…”] and ‘Waters of My Enemies’—the emotional stakes deepen, before easing into the reflective warmth of ‘Always Mine’ to reveal a record created with a cohesive narrative about love, vulnerability, self-awareness and emotional release. Even towards the closing stretch, ‘Set Me Free,’ ‘Kuna Yule,’ and ‘Umbrella’, there’s a sense of arrival, like the emotional arc has come full circle as evidenced in her live listening sessions to promote the album at KODA Nairobi.

Lyrically, she remains just as compelling. Whether it’s the tenderness of ‘I Choose You’ featuring Bien–a masterclass in vocal chemistry with over 4M+ streams currently–released late 2024 in the lead up to the album. Bien’s textured, expressive delivery folds seamlessly into her softness, creating a duet that feels rich and layered. Similarly, ‘Mimi Na Wewe’ with Nikita Kering is nothing short of a “soundgasm.” For fans who have long imagined what a meeting between two of Kenya’s most compelling R&B voices would sound like, this track delivers–and then some. Nikita doesn’t overpower or get overshadowed; instead, she meets Blue exactly where she is, and together they create something immersive, lush and deeply satisfying.

And perhaps what’s striking is that Blue doesn’t rely on these features; they simply expand her world. They add dimension without taking away from her center, which remains strong throughout the album. In the broader conversation about Kenyan R&B, RNB feels like a defining statement. The genre has been steadily growing, carving out space both locally and globally; and Bridget Blue’s name belongs firmly within that conversation [with her] stating, “I feel like more true R&B singers are coming up, and I feel like they are not shy about it anymore.”

That ability to captivate in the most ordinary settings has evidently been part of her magic since her come-up. And the growth is undeniable. Ultimately now with ‘RNB’ Bridget Blue is rest assuredly stepping into her sound, with a clearer identity and confident execution–or at the very least, fully realized in this current phase of her artistry.

The 2010s Classic African Songs Revisited Through Gen Z

If there were a magical button that could bring me back to a period in time, a music era just for a day, before safely returning to the modern age, then it no doubt has to be the early 2010s. In a time when we were just introduced to the first iPhone, social media platforms were about collecting memories, instead of fabricating them, and everyone was less self-absorbed or micro-online. The earliest tastemakers knew how to test the waters, bringing the vibes organically while getting us hooked to the most legendary dance moves, fashion perks, and community gatherings.

Now that trends evaporate out of thin air and no longer hold the same impact they used to, internet culture tends to recycle the past, claiming it as new, while forgetting what brought us here today. That is what our new content series, Forgotten Jams, is all about: going back in time to reignite a feeling, view the world through a nostalgic lens, and making us whine our waist left and right, even if it is just for one more night.

When we tell you that these songs, theese songs, will forever be ingrained in our memories, there’s no exaggeration here. For a lot of Gen Z’s, now young working adults, those are the moments that defined our childhood, whether you were in South London through the wishy-washy weathers, or stuck in Lagos in the sub-Saharan heat. Deeds Magazine carefully selected a list of songs that have the power to revisit your past self and reignite your inner child that hasn’t felt like themselves since the good ol’ days.

Her Name - Sneakbo

For me, one of the artists who defined the early 2010s is none other than Sneakbo. Coming from Brixton, of Nigerian descent, his bangers always felt close to home and a staple to the broader diaspora community in the UK & Europe. Sneakbo’s ability to mix electronic productions with an Afropop flair, and on top of that, rap lyrics that make your head bop, can only be described as chef kiss. ‘Her Name’ in particular stings like glue because nothing could have prepared us non-Igbo speakers, now as grown adults, for the meaning behind some of those lyrics.

To this day, we don’t know why our Nigerian friends could not have warned us what the word “Ashawo” means, and instead danced Azonto along with us when the chorus hit the speakers. That being said, a moment has been had. All confusion can easily be washed away with a glass of gin and a radio anthem.

Kukere - Iyanya

“Visit IROKING.COM for more Nigerian Music” Are we seeing a trend here? This is because music videos dominated the 2010s, and Nigerian artist Iyanya’s ‘Kukere’ is no different. All you needed was a catchy refrain, captivating visuals, and a few dance moves, and you had yourself a hit song. Iyanya sent waves to the dance floor, adored by children and old people alike. Exactly like the Efik language suggests, don’t worry. And that message was felt as soon as we played this song and sang the first lyrics: “All my ladies / All my ladies”. Wow, they don’t make it like this anymore.

If we’re talking about a song that could unify every African nationality because of its universal rhythm, this was the one. Similar to the timeless video, when you stepped out in a Congolese wedding, and this song came up, you knew it was time to leave the stage and let your uncle do his thing. Looking back, Iyanya really created an uncle riddim.

Alkaiyada - Guru

The entire skit by comedian Lil Win was genius. Perhaps a close candidate that could have competed with Azonto moves at the time was the Ghanaian dance Alkayida. Guru’s song was just the cherry on top. Despite the recent controversies that gave this replay button a bad reputation, in the 2010s, this was a go-to for many young Africans. Not only did people dance to this, but it also brought us one of our first clashes between Nigerians and Ghanians. Truthfully, both regions have always wanted to claim they were first and basically argue about who had the culture on lock.

What many may ignore is that in this period, influence was much more fairly distributed, while today the dominant forces reign from Lagos and key figures in South Africa. Our playlists ranged from Kenyan anthems to Nigerian, Ivorian, Ghanaian, Congolese, South African, and so much more. In its recent surge of international recognition, the gates have shrunken, with African artists in less popular regions no longer being able to reach the continent & beyond like the early internet age.

Antenna - Fuse ODG

When British-Ghanaian artist Fuse ODG came into the scene and brought us hit after hit by cleverly watering down Afropop music, so that it may reach a broader audience, ‘Antenna’ symbolises that era at its peak. Coming of age, we realize that although it seemed like songs such as ‘Azonto’ and ‘Million Pound Girl’ were being played around the world, Fuse’s music truly spoke and connected with diaspora communities the most. This is because he used to sing in English, which was really uncommon at the time, without any sort of mix with native languages.

Moreover, we think that his success can be credited to the dance challenges that came along, specifically from a Manchester duet who had us mimicking every single move in our school breaks. It is safe to say that nobody came as close as the reign of Ghanaians in the early 2010s, and Fuse ODG was a key player in amplifying it.

Oliver Twist - D’banj

Looking back, we really have a hard time explaining the phenomenon, which is ‘Oliver Twist’  by Nigerian artist D’Banj. For example, the music video was completely different from what was popular at the time, which had a sombre look similar to the appeal you would get in an American Rap video. The song didn’t come with any memorable dance moves. Aside from the white male dressed in a  Peaky Blinders-like outfit, there really weren’t any 2010s elements we were used to attributing to–Still, we were hooked.

To think of it, celebrity culture definitely fell into play here. To have a Kanye West appearance at the time, and at the very last minute of the video, really boosted the popularity of the song. D’Banj was big, but the Americans’ Rap appeal was bigger, and there’s nothing like global influence, such as Black American culture, who have dominated culture since the beginning of Hip-Hop.

Songs and eras may come and go, like falling snow; however, Forgotten Jams is forever, and we have a ton more hits to revisit. Make sure to tune in for our next episode!

PRESS RELEASE

Alternative R&B artist kosi returns with a new single “3AM”

On “3AM” she works through the familiarf eeling of yearning for a deeper connection from a loved one and pushes the narrative further by sitting in the feeling, no longer waiting for closure, but recognizing she never needed it.

kosi wants her listeners to move in closer, letting the emotions speak and trusting them to meet her there at those moments that feel intimate, and real.

“3AM”is rooted inAlternativeR&B while still blending textured production with subtle afro and global influences, and is the first single off her anticipated EP“UpTill 5"

kosi opened up 2026 with the single “UNO” ftRigo Kamp in february and followed up with a surpised track “Her Eyes (CryDiary 1.1)” featuring producer Dan Akins where she confronts the feeling of wanting to be someone else.

Still emerging, kosi. is building a catalog with a clear sense of self. Pairing dynamic soundscapes with writing that resonates, each release pushing her artistry forward and cementing her as an artist unwilling to be boxed in.
She isn't chasing a lane.
She's carving her own.

Socials:
IG: @thatkosi
X: @thatkosi
Tiktok: @thatkosi
gmail:kosiofodum@gmail.com

An insight into how to cultivate a lifelong music career in Africa

When we speak of Black excellence, Bassa Zéréhoué Diyilem, better known as Didi B, sits at the pinnacle of that hill. Stemming from one of Africa's busiest cities, Abidjan, Ivory Coast, success wasn’t just given to him. It was something he had to fight for. Today, the heavy hitter is respected amongst culture leaders from all walks of life, as a pioneering voice who populariszed French Rap on the African continent and beyond. Together with Kiff No Beat, an Ivorian Award-winning Rap group founded in 2009,  he reached unimaginable heights for African kids from the streets, ultimately placing Ivorian Rap in the limelight.

Not everyone can claim full-dominance for almost 15 years in the music business, since his debut solo project ‘Mojo trone, vol. 1’ back in 2013. Didi B remains just as good with his pen. Through controversies and hardships, the Rap mogul not only remained on everyone’s music playlists, but he also persevered through it all. The recent release of his deluxe edition of ‘Juventus Nueva Era’ is a testimony to his power hold. Deeds Magazine sat down with Didi B in an exclusive conversation to discuss his triumphs, his shortcomings, and everything that lies in between.

Laurène for Deeds Magazine: Can you tell us who you are and where you're based? 

Didi B: I'm Bassa Zéréhoué Diyilem, known as Didi B, an Ivorian rapper. Sometimes I'm called Mojaveli or Bayo. I'm based in   Ivory Coast. 

It's not every day that we hear about an artist who breaks through in Abidjan. Can you tell us what it was like growing up there? 

Abidjan is the hub of African music. Many artists have seen their careers take off after starting in the Ivory Coast. Like any music industry, it doesn't happen overnight, that's for sure. Abidjan is the city that's always on the go, the city where our neighbors are our second family, the city where young people have supported us since our early days at Faya Flow with the group Kiff No Beat, the city where hospitality is the key word. It's the city of alloco (I didn't say Alokos, lol), attiéké, garba, and grilled fish. I grew up in all of that. I've had, and still have, some great times there. 

For us, as outsiders, when we think of the Ivory Coast, we often think of Coupé Décalé and Magic System. How were you introduced to Rap, and which artists did you listen to? 

Big up to the masters A'salfo, Manadja, Goudé, and Tino! I grew up with this legendary group, but also with artists like Alpha Blondy and Meiway, who are like father figures to me and people I admire for their talent and their ability to stay relevant despite all these years. Like every kid my age, we were into French and US Rap. But predecessors like Garba 50 and Almighty inspired me. I started rapping in Bingerville with my friends Black K and Elow'n, then Joochar and Eljay. After our victory at Faya Flow in 2010, a Hip-Hop competition, we went pro. 

With your friends, you founded a group called Kiff No Beat in 2009. The first African Hip-Hop group to sign with Universal Music. What has your journey been like? 

A journey full of pitfalls and obstacles, but also some wonderful things. We experienced a lot of firsts with the group, notably being the first Francophone African rap group at Coke Studio. The group was heavily supported by Ivorian teenagers and young adults, at a time when Rap wasn't the dominant musical genre in Côte d'Ivoire. In 2010, the group won Faya Flow, a Hip-Hop competition. Following that, with people who believed in us, like DA Carmen, our producer, and Shado Chris, our first beatmaker, we launched our professional career. As for albums, I can mention “Christmas Gift” in 2011, “Jackson Five” in 2013, “Teenage Firecrackers” in 2014, “Cubism” in 2015… along with singles and collaborations. This work has been rewarded with numerous titles, such as “Revelation of the Year” in 2011 and “Best Rap/Hip-Hop Group” in 2012 and 2013 at the Ivorian Music Awards.

Almost 15 years in the business, it’s a privilege to have you with us. What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned? 

I’ve learned that talent isn’t enough. You have to surround yourself with a solid team, be professional, and understand the music industry.

Out of curiosity, was there ever a moment when you thought, “Wow, I’ve really reached the top. Where do I go from here?” Have you ever felt this way in your career, and how did you overcome it?

I tell myself that all the time, when I'm performing, when I release a new project, but I immediately tell myself I have to get to work and do even better. 

One thing we didn't see on the Juventus Nueva Era deluxe edition is a collaboration with a Nigerian artist. Of course, you've already worked with numerous acts like Burna Boy. Are there others in the English-speaking world that you plan to collaborate with in the future? 

I've also worked with Naira Marley and Ziloneesky on other projects. We're also working on breaking into the English-speaking market. In fact, I was the first French-speaking artist to receive Gold certification in Nigeria for my song, "Good Vibes" featuring Ziloneesky. 

There's a new scene developing in the Ivory Coast, similar to the 'Nigerian underground,' also called 'NigerianUG.' What do you think of it? This movement? 

Are you talking about Biama? If you're talking about this new scene, I find it incredible. Seeing young people from working-class neighbourhoods, like me at the very beginning of my career, getting Ivorians dancing to this musical style makes me happy and boosts my creativity. Music is about innovation, but it's also about joy, and that's what Biama conveys. 

It was actually a separate scene, but wow! You are putting us on now. One of the biggest fanatical clashes in French rap pitted you against Himra. Where does your relationship stand today? 

We're focused on the Zénith.

Finally, is there any important news you'd like to share with the public? 

The Ebimpe Stadium for next year.

Thank you for your time, Didi B.

In August 2010, a teenage Wizkid posted on X: “I like Fally Ipupa’s music nd style!! lol.. tho I don’t understand wat he say’s bt d tin jst sweet!..” A year later, in October 2011, he was back: “gatto do something wit fally ipupa too!!…” He eventually did - on 'Yakuza', roughly a decade ago. Now they have 'Jam'. Some things are simply inevitable.

West Africa has always felt the pull of Fally Ipupa’s sound travelling across borders, subverting language and cultural barriers for years before any formal introduction was necessary. “Jam” is one of those moments.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

For the West African listener encountering Fally Ipupa properly for the first time, the context matters. Often referred to as the “Prince of Rumba,” Fally is a Congolese musician known for his tenor vocals and his fusion of Congolese rumba, soukous and ndombolo.  This year marks 20 years of his solo career which began with the 2006 release of his debut studio album Droit Chemin. Set to honour 20 years of relentless hits, he is set to release his eighth studio album, XX with performing two back-to-back sold out shows at the Stade de France.  

“Jam” sits within XX as  a reunion of sorts, the two artists having last worked together roughly a decade ago on ‘Yakuza’.  But those old tweets reframe the collaboration entirely. Wizkid’s admiration for Fally did not begin in a studio. That is the most honest kind of appreciation there is, and ‘Jam’ sounds like the product of it.

The song does not rush. Fally’s vocal runs carry the weight of the track while Wizkid moves alongside them, unhurried, his delivery fitting the soukous-influenced rhythm rather than pulling against it.  Producer Trésor Riziki keeps the production clean, blending organic and electronic textures without crowding the space the vocalists need.  The soukous-influenced rhythm underneath is the kind that the body recognises before the mind does - familiar on first listen, satisfying on every listen after. The hook is simple and stubborn. It stays.It does not demand anything except attention, and it rewards that attention without making a fuss about it.

When fans found those old tweets and replied “Now we have Jam” -  they were marking something beyond a release. Fally Ipupa has spent two decades being one of the most significant artists on this continent. That this is many people's first proper encounter with him says less about the music and more about the walls that have kept African scenes from fully hearing each other.

IG:@ffeistyhuman

Over the past decade, Afrobeats has expanded far beyond its Nigerian and West African roots, evolving into a global sonic language that moves fluidly across continents. It’s everywhere and still somehow treated like it’s on the verge of arriving. You hear it in clubs in London, in TikTok audios in New York, in playlists that cut across continents without much concern for geography. The artists are touring globally, collaborating widely, building audiences that don’t need to be explained into existence.

Its growth has been driven less by traditional industry pipelines and more by digital ecosystems–streaming platforms, diaspora communities, and social media circulation. In many ways, Afrobeats has already achieved what older industry models would define as global success: sold-out tours, charting records, cross-genre collaborations and cultural influence that extends into fashion, dance and internet culture.

Put all of that together and you start to see the pattern: there isn’t one way to do this. But the Western music industry still tends to act like there is. It’s an assumption that says more about how we’ve been taught to measure success than it does about the current state of Afrobeats.

Recently, a clip reposted by Afrotoday–featuring a self-proclaimed superfan of Ayra Starr urging her to “go back home” and abandon her U.S.-facing trajectory. The logic is simple: her attempts to expand into the U.S. market aren’t landing as expected. But the statement reveals something deeper than critique. It reflects a lingering belief that Western validation remains the ultimate benchmark, even as the structures that once upheld that idea begin to shift. 

For audiences raised on linear narratives of success, local recognition followed by Western breakthrough–the current landscape can feel unsettled. But for artists, the reality is far less linear and far more fluid. For Starr, signed to Mavin Records but internationally managed by Roc Nation and operating within a broader global distribution network, she exists between markets that demand different things from her. In Nigeria and across parts of Europe, she is already a fully realised pop star distinct, recognisable, and culturally embedded. In the United States, however, her presence is still forming, often arriving in fragments rather than as a fully constructed narrative.

That gap is not a failure of artistry. It is a reflection of how different systems process visibility. Across the industry, her peers illustrate just how varied these pathways can be. Tems has moved through prestige collaborations and film placements, building a quieter but deeply rooted presence in Western markets. Burna Boy has prioritised global touring, creating scale that exists largely outside the need for American radio validation. Rema achieved a rare crossover moment through viral success that translated across markets. And Tyla has been positioned in alignment with Western pop frameworks, making her rise more legible within that system.

Taken together, these trajectories don’t suggest inconsistency. They expose the limits of a system still measuring success through “breaking America,” an increasingly outdated metric that fails to account for how Afrobeats actually moves. The American market, in particular, continues to rely on legacy systems: radio play, rigid genre categorisation and slow-burn artist development cycles built around control. Afrobeats, by contrast, thrive in environments that are fast, decentralised and borderless. Songs travel before artists do. Hits emerge organically, often without the kind of label orchestration Western systems are designed to manage.

To understand this friction more clearly, it helps to return to the genre’s roots. Afrobeats can be traced back to Nigeria and music icon Fela Kuti, widely considered the architect of Afrobeat. Popularised in the 1970s, Afrobeat merged American jazz and funk with traditional Yoruba music. Over time, that foundation evolved into Afrobeats–a broader, more fluid umbrella used to describe contemporary West African pop music that draws from those origins.

Afrobeats, then, is not a singular genre but an umbrella term often used to describe contemporary West African pop music. And it is precisely this fluidity that resists easy categorisation within Western industry frameworks.

For decades, Western labels have positioned themselves as the site of global arrival–the place where genres are not just heard, but confirmed. To succeed within that system is to become legible on its terms.

But Afrobeats complicates that logic. Western labels are now navigating a steep learning curve, moving from early indifference to aggressive and at times clumsy investment. Major players like Sony Music Entertainment and Universal Music Group have established offices in Lagos, tapping into a market that has already proven its global viability. Yet the issue remains whether these institutions understand the nuance of Afrobeats, or if they are simply repackaging it for Western consumption.

As Afrobeats Intelligence host Joey Akan notes of Ayra Starr’s trajectory, “With Roc Nation’s proven U.S. market dominance and Mavin/Universal’s backing, she’s poised to become Nigeria’s next global breakout.” The infrastructure is clearly in place. The ambition is undeniable. But infrastructure does not guarantee understanding because the challenge has never been about access but translation. Not translation as language, but as framing. How do you present a genre that is already global without reducing it to a trend? How do you introduce an artist to a new market without flattening what makes them distinct? How do you work with movement rather than attempting to contain it?

What appears, on the surface, as a stalled crossover may not be a failure at all. It may be a system struggling to catch up. That reframing shifts the conversation entirely. It suggests that the question is no longer whether Afrobeats can be absorbed into Western systems, but if those systems can adapt to something that does not centre them. And that is a far more difficult adjustment to make.

It requires abandoning the idea that there is a single, definitive version of success. It means recognising that an artist can be globally influential without being universally legible within every market. It means accepting that not all forms of cultural movement are designed to translate cleanly and that forcing them to do so risks losing what made them powerful in the first place.

The fan in the viral clip might be asking Ayra Starr to go back home. But the more pressing question is whether “home” and “away” still function in the way that statement assumes. Because if Afrobeats has already redrawn the map, then the idea of a singular destination, of one place where success is finally confirmed–no longer holds the same weight. And if that’s the case, then the real challenge isn’t for the artists. It’s for the system still trying to make sense of them.

King Promise Gives An Inside Look into his New Joint Album with Mr Eazi

Let me remind you that the new joint project ‘See What We’ve Done’ by King Promise and Mr Eazi is not just your mere industry get-together. King, a Highlife award-winning Ghanaian artist, and Mr Eazi, the Nigerian Banku Music champion, are joining forces in celebration of a lifelong brotherhood. This is almost ten years in the making, coupled with an unbreakable friendship that we are fortunate enough to witness it through a sonic delight. You asked for it, and the famous pair delivered–with every second’s warm ambience and serenading lyrics reminding us all how much we’ve missed hearing the two together. 

This should come as no surprise, after supporters have been anticipating for years for an official comeback of Afrobeats’ favourite duo. 9-track of pure expressionism twisted in Twi, English and Pidgin, existing within the realm of Afropop/R&B, and they all trace back to a studio session in Accra in 2013. Since then, the brothers by spirit have garnered flourishing careers, settling in a world of romance. Deeds Magazine sat down with King Promise to unfold the collaborative album and set the record straight: Ghana’s and Nigeria’s undeniable bond is here to stay, and at full display in ‘See What We’ve Done’.

Laurène for Deeds Magazine: When you first announced a collaborative project, it really took the world for a spin! We had seen your friendship blossom before our eyes, with you recently attending Eazi’s wedding, but nothing could prepare us for this sonic ride between the two soft giants of West Africa. Tell us, how did the idea for seeing what you’ve done initially come about?

King Promise: It was actually very organic. Mr Eazi and I have built a real friendship over the years, beyond just music. We’ve always appreciated each other’s sound and the space we each occupy in Afrobeats. This is the right time to create something together. It started from our fans actually calling for more music from us after our initial collaborations had all been epic. We obviously have individual careers and mad personal schedules, so it's taken quite a while. Still, finally, after a few years of the fans asking and us also wanting to do it, the album is finally here.

Listening to the album carefully, it’s ‘Dabedi’ all over again, but times a hundred! If I’m not mistaken, in 2018, this was our first official introduction of you two together in the same music realm. Little did we know as supporters that almost a decade later, ‘See What We’ve Done’ would be at our front door. Why was it important to unveil the project now in the year 2026?

Yeah, “Dabebi” with Mr Eazi was definitely a moment and looking back now, it almost feels like a seed we planted without even realizing how far it would grow. I think what makes See What We’ve Done special is timing. Back then, we had chemistry, but now we have experience, growth, and a deeper understanding of ourselves as artists and as people. We’ve both evolved, sonically and personally, and that reflects in the music.

Speaking of nostalgia, on the single “That Way”, you reinterpreted the American Pop classic, “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. It’s like the song was given a new breath of life, a refreshing outlook, and some African sun rays, of course. Who came up with this brilliant mashup?

I did. Haha. The idea first came from a conversation I was having with my manager early last year as I was working on my next body of work. We spoke about sampling more records that made sense after the success of my song “Favourite Story” He said, “Why not do something different for the next one from a boyband?” That sounded epic to me, and after going through some of our fav boyband classics, “I Want It That Way” spoke to me instantly. It’s one of those timeless records almost everyone grew up on, so there was already that emotional connection. Honestly, that was one of those moments that just happened most naturally. 

Fast forward, I had already gotten in the studio with Guiltybeatz and Jae5 and made the record just before I went to Dubai for Eazi’s wedding. We were in a car heading to the wedding when I played it for him while we were catching up, discussing music, and what the next steps were for each other. That was the birth of See What We’ve Done because we agreed on that drive to finally make it happen.

There was a time when you couldn’t speak of Ghana without Nigeria in the same sentence. In the early 2010s, which I like to call the prime of Afrobeats, the two regions were in constant battle with each other. But it was healthy competition! Whereas now, it seems like the limelight has mainly shifted to Nigeria, specifically Lagos. This joint project brought some of that early feeling back. I wonder, where’s there some of that friendly rivalry during studio sessions?

I get what you mean, because that Ghana–Nigeria dynamic has always been part of the culture, and it definitely pushed the sound forward. But for us, it’s never really been about competition; it’s more like motivation. I think what this project shows is that it’s not Ghana versus Nigeria, it’s Ghana and Nigeria. When you blend those two energies, it becomes something bigger than both sides. At the end of the day, it’s all about making great music that represents where we come from.

‍On a lighter note, I think the main theme of this project is love. During my first listen, I wrote down the following: “The theme of love throughout See What We’ve Done reflects the stage of each artist’s life, and comes at the cost of an unbreakable brotherhood.” King, can you tell us three things you love about your friend Eazi?‍

First, I’d say, ambition. Second, his mindset. He’s always thinking bigger than just music. He thinks about business, impact, and legacy. Being around that kind of energy pushes you to show up in your own way. Lastly, the goal is to enjoy life, be himself and not let anything stress him.

We can’t talk about music without looking at the current soundscape. One thing about both of your contributions is that you’ve always been in your own lane and prioritized growth with your listeners over the music industry. Do you believe there is intentional, timeless, African music of substance, circulating in the mainstream arena right now?

Yeah, I definitely think it exists, but you have to be intentional about finding it, just like the artists have to be intentional about making it. The mainstream today is very fast. There's a lot of music coming out, a lot of trends, a lot of moments. But within all of that, there are still artists creating timeless, meaningful African music. Music that isn’t just for now, but something you can come back to years later and still feel.

Thinking about you as a duo, it really does make sense now. Of course, we had Asake and Wizkid release earlier this year, Tems and Dave working, Angélique and Ayra Starr surprisingly. How would you say that you manage to stand out from the crowd?

I think first of all, it’s a beautiful time for the culture, seeing collaborations like Asake and Wizkid, Tems and Dave, even Angélique Kidjo and Ayra Starr, it just shows how wide and powerful African music has become. For Mr Eazi and me, I think what makes us stand out is the intention behind what we have created. It wasn't put together by a label or management. It wasn't orchestrated by anyone, but a friendship of about 13 years from boys to men. We’re not just putting songs together; we've built a body of work that reflects our journey, our friendship, and our growth over time.

You’re known as tastemakers, trendsetters and trailblazers not only in Africa, but across the world. Who are emerging artists, either from Ghana or Nigeria, you think we should be tuning into today?

There’s a lot of exciting talent coming up right now; honestly, it’s a great time for the next generation. From Ghana, I’d say keep an eye on Black Sherif, OliveTheBoy, Lasmid, Arathejay and Kojo Black. I would leave Nigeria to Eazi.

When this interview is released, the project will most likely already be out by now. Is there an important message you would like to say to your long-time supporters?

First of all, I just want to say thank you. To everyone who has been rocking with us from day one, and to those who are just discovering the music now, I don’t take any of it for granted.

This project with Eazi is really a reflection of growth, patience, and staying true to ourselves. And the fact that the fans have allowed us to evolve, to experiment, and to still support us at this level means everything.

Finally, this is an exclusive, by the way, I’m speaking it into the universe. Can we fans expect some tour dates for the album anytime soon? If yes, when?

I like that, you’re putting it out there already. We’re still putting things together, making sure it’s done the right way

Thank you, King Promise, for your time.

We've discussed the Toronto music scene for some time, noting artists such as Dylan Sinclair and Aqyila as key representatives of Toronto's R&B. Now, as these artists make their mark, they highlight the region's rich, growing talent.

Amongst those artists is also Chxxry. As a child of two Ethiopian immigrants who made their way to Canada, she is also part of the Canadian R&B story.  Her musical presence became known through her viral hit “Main Character,” released last year. However, before the moment happened for her, she was somebody who had been a part of the music scene for a minute. As someone who grew up singing, it is not foreign to her. Her debut single, “The Falls”, introduced her with a darker, somewhat more alternative vibe that drew on Toronto R&B natives The Weeknd and PARTYNEXTDOOR and very much set the tone for R&B artists to come.

Now, 4 years since her debut, she is creating something for herself and pushing beyond what is expected from her. With two EPs under her belt, she is ready for her album, expected to drop later this year. The first single of the album just arrived. “Hall of Fame”  is an introduction to this new era and is the first taste of what we can expect from the album, and  has been described as “pre-party for my album”. Having just concluded her opening slot on Mariah The Scientist’s Hearts Sold Separately Tour, playing for audiences all over the world, it's clear that this is a new chapter in Chxrry’s story. We met Chxxry and spoke about everything from her musical journey so far to her time as an artist in Toronto, redefining her sound, her upcoming album, and more.

Hi Chxxry, great to meet you. Starting at the beginning, what was your initial introduction to music?

So both my parents immigrated to Toronto from Ethiopia and didn't speak English. They both sang in a choir, so growing up, my parents just made us sing a lot. They made us sing a lot of Christian songs, Ethiopian songs, all my home videos, all my early childhood memories were of singing that was weirdly our love language, and that was what bonded us and bridged the gap of us being first gen and them being immigrants. So that's just really how I got into music, it was through  my parents,

And was there a particular moment when you knew that singing was something you wanted to do beyond just being a hobby?

I think it was my brothers; they just weren't as good as I was. So it was obvious when we would all sing, and it'd be like she sounds really good, like, she's really standing out. And then I remember the choir director at my church. He went to my dad and said to him, " You know, she could really sing, like, you should really take this seriously”. And my dad had a friend, actually, who was adamant, like he used to tell him that you need to do something, this kid can really sing. And I just became known for it. I used to sing at birthdays and weddings, and I just became the girl who could sing. So my parents eventually became undeniable. I was just really talented and just really good at it.

So even with your parents knowing about your talent and hearing it from people. Did they foster that creativity and support that talent within you?

No, they didn’t. I love my parents; they're amazing people. My mom exposed me to a lot of different things and was very lenient. My dad, on the other hand, was really strict. I think, as immigrants, they don't really know any other way than hard work. They didn't understand the Internet. So even when I went viral, and I told my dad, he didn't really get it. I was like, " Quit your job. I'm famous. And like, I wasn't. But to this day, he thinks that story is so crazy because he's like, "What do you mean?" But he doesn't get it that people can get famous overnight.

Being in Toronto and just the music scene there. How did you find being around the music out there, and what was your experience of it?

I think it was intensely moody. There was a moment when The Weeknd, PARTYNEXTDOOR, Drake, and Daniel Caesar all emerged together. LR&B felt dark and atmospheric, and we set the tone for the rest of the world. Every R&B song you heard traced back to Abel or Drake; that defined Toronto’s sound. We shaped dark R&B, turning it into the movement R&B became. Now, I believe we’ve entered a new era. What I’m creating stands apart—it’s vibrant and original. The city hasn’t seen a woman bring change like this before. I’m genuinely excited; I feel my album will launch something entirely new. After everything I accomplished last year, I know this year will be even bigger. The music is about to take off.

Speaking to your own music and finding what that sound was to you, how did you discover that for yourself?

I think, naturally, being from Toronto, my taste was definitely darker, moodier R&B in the beginning, for sure, but I think now I just want to create my own legacy and start my own stride, you know. And I think “Main Character” was the start of me being like I figured it out, this is what I want to do. And, now I'm entering a new flow state, yeah.

You just put out your new single, “Hall of Fame”. Tell us about the new single and the process of making it?

I was heavily inspired by older pop songs and was searching for the feeling I had when I listened to them as a younger person. And I really wanted something that was also a nod to my city. It was actually the last song I made for this album. When my producer played me the beat, I knew it was the song that the project was missing.

How do you feel this particular single introduces us to what we can expect from the album?

“Hall of Fame” is basically the pre-party for my album. It's like a glimpse into my real life and the outer ego of the world that is Chxrry.

You've spoken about the album, which I know is coming out later this year. How did you find the sound, and what vibe did you want?

I don't want to keep doing the same things, and I don't want any album to sound like the last one. And I always want people to be, like, excited about what I'll do next. I still always want to push the envelope. So even when I dropped “Poppin Out”, that was so different for me. Yeah, and I was so nervous, I was like, oh, it's not slow, it's not dark, like, and I think it felt like me. It felt like the real me, you know, not like, well, this is where I'm from, this is what I'm supposed to sound like. It's what I'm supposed to like. It just felt free. And I think people read that, and I think people were really into that. So just keeping that energy, I just kept that, kept on going with that, even with the new album and everything.

If people have never heard the music before, this is their first taste of your sound. How would you describe this album as not even like an introduction to yourself, as to who Erry is about?

I feel like this album describes me as just brave. I think this album is gonna show them that I want to be more than just a moment. I want to create something timeless. Everything I do. I just want it to mean something. I want it to inspire people. I want to be inspired. And, yeah, I just want to do new shit, like I don't know. I never want people to know what I'm gonna do next. The shit part about the internet is that if something's different and exciting, it always just has to be like, ridiculed so harshly, until it becomes normalised, I guess, and everybody just has like, one brain, and it really sucks. But I know that there's a reward for being different, and I know there's a reward for taking chances and trying to push art,

You just finished opening for Mariah The Scientist on tour, and you played shows internationally, so what was it like to see people respond to your music and just see the different crowds everywhere you went?

It was amazing. I didn't even know this many people knew me, so I'm really excited and blown away every day by the crowds, how much they engage, and how they sing the songs. It makes me want to come back for my own headline tour and do this all over again.

What would you say has been like, the growing moments that you've experienced, even just being on your journey so far?

I think every single day I have, like, Aha, like, moments like, I don't know, like, every day I just feel like things click, more and more. There are so many things I've heard along the way. I'm not really an in-the-moment kind of person. I don't realise things in the moment; I always realise them way after the fact. I tend to miss signs and advice, and I'm someone who learns from experience, so I'm just learning as I go. I think what I'm trying to say is that my learning really happens in reflection, rather than in the moment.

What are you looking forward to, even in the next stage of your journey?

Honestly, just seeing where this music takes me, like, what new opportunities it'll bring, what new places I'll see, being inspired by new people and by new things, like all these things, create the next album and create the next era, and, yeah, life is just it's not really about one moment. It's about like multiple, so that's what I look forward to.

During a recent interview with NandoLeaks, songwriter, producer and singer Omah Lay did not hold back when speaking about, Elmah, the newest artist signed to his record label—Boy Alone. “She’s Insane”,  he said.

The Nigerian hitmaker, who launched the imprint as an extension of his creative movement, used the conversation to introduce fans to the rising talent and explain the unconventional personality behind the artist, which drew his attention to her. 

Before her connection with Omah Lay, Elmah had quietly built momentum. With her soulful tone and emotionally driven songwriting skills, she made covers and snippets that blend Afrobeats with R&B and alternative influences.  Her early single “New Boy In Town” introduced listeners to lyrics  born from vulnerability, self-doubt, loneliness and the search for acceptance. It captured the emotional experience of stepping into unfamiliar territory, and it resonated with listeners because it was widely relatable, especially as her delivery feels intimate and honest, which makes it feel like she’s voicing emotions they struggle to articulate, which are qualities that have become defining traits of Afrofusion’s new wave. 

Her visibility  intensified when she appeared on his latest album “Clarity of Mind”, on the track  “Coping Mechanism”  

‍making her the only guest artist on the project, an opportunity that screams confidence in her potential. 

This artistic alignment is precisely why their collaboration feels natural, as they operate the same emotional territory that Afrofusion has come to represent: introspection, heartbreak, longing and spiritual reflection wrapped in mellow rhythm. Where Omah Lay leans towards haunting melodies and confessional storytelling, Elmah brings a softer but equally emotive tone. Together, their voices create a complementary dynamic, his textured and aching delivery with her airy, reflective presence. 

For Elmah, the moment marks the start of a breakthrough in her career. For Omah Lay, it signals an evolution in his journey, not as an artist but as a curator of a new talent for his imprint. However, if his words are anything to go by, the world would soon understand why he called her “Insane”, a remark that hints at an artist whose creativity, energy and artistry may be as unpredictable as they are compelling and could challenge expectations, therefore making unforgettable impressions. 

Zubaboy is Aiming for Global Recognition

When you think of Congolese music and its artists roaming the continent, who are the first names that come to mind? Fally Ipupa? Koffi Olomide? Theodora? Tiakola? Well, let me introduce you to Pson, a Congolese artist who feels just like a gift that keeps on giving. Why does he stand out from the crowd, you may ask? While everyone else in the continent sticks to traditional sounds such as Soukous or Rumba, the Zubaboy adds a bit of flair to the mix, making him one of the most exciting acts coming from Congo.

Pson Zubaboy, or Pson in short, is a 30-year-old Congolese artist born in Kalemie, Eastern Congo. Growing up, Pson listened to a lot to the late Congolese legend Papa Wemba and American R&B icon Craig David. He is one of the founding members of Zubaboy Music, a label based in the region. Beginning his music career around 2017 with a few standout singles across the years, it was his debut album, ‘Classik’, in 2025; however, that really brought him to the limelight. For a small-town boy,  at first, his sole mission was simply to merge his hometown, Lumumbashi and the capital city of Kinshasa, bridging the gap between a long feud of different ethnics and native languages. As his career grew, so did his interest. He began incorporating sounds from Nigeria, Ghana and Tanzania, whilst choosing to sing in English, Swahili and Lingala.

Congolese people are naturally very formulaic; they stick to what they know and are very good at it. It is all in their avant-garde high-end fashion, best known as La Sape, their distinctive food like Kwanga and Pondu, or perhaps their naturally comedic appeal. Unfortunately, that leaves little room for innovation and evolution, which, for most, is a natural course of time that every genre or culture will inevitably be struck by. But not in Congo! You see, music enthusiasts still swaying some ndombolo steps to Koffi Olomide’s ‘Héros National’ or Fally Ipupa’s ‘Original’ like there’s no tomorrow, and rightfully so. Rumba is a dance music ingrained into Congolese culture, from the movements to the fashion sense, everything becomes like a second skin to the listener, deeply rooted in the cause. For a country that constantly faces persecution, an immense social gap, and general devaluation from all of its neighbours, pride is of great importance. In this case, it almost becomes a tool for survival, a way of life. And although Pson is experimenting, he is undoubtedly cut from the same cloth.

It goes without saying that Pson has a deep respect for traditional Congolese rhythms. Pson isn’t abandoning his musical roots. He fuses contemporary sounds, such as Jersey club and Afrobeats, with key Congolese elements, for example, Congolese popular singing cadence, to amplify them. Now, a whole world that only Congolese people and their diaspora could relate to opens up before an extended young and eager audience. Worlds are colliding, and it urges a cultural dialogue. The result? A sound that feels both familiar and refreshing at the same time. Take ‘Ebele’ for example, one of his biggest singles thus far, adored by anyone who enjoys fast dancing rhythms and a catchy hook. 

While perseverance is at the centre of African identity, pushing boundaries can contribute just as much greatness for the cause. Let’s take fashion, for example: although traditional clothing is still practised around the continent, the use of modernity, such as streetwear and online trends, not only is utilized to showcase wealth, but also makes African artists relatable to younger generations within and outside of the continent. Through carefully curated styles and visual aesthetic, it gets to target a larger pool of listeners, who perhaps wouldn’t have clicked on the song then, but now are more curious and willing to participate in a genre that wouldn’t have appealed to them otherwise.

As African music continues to gain international recognition, Pson plays a key role in pushing the movement to the world. In recent years, French Afropop, a diasporic subculture in France, has risen in popularity. As new listeners grow more and more curious about the Francophone African contribution, this also brings eyes to their country of origin, such as the Ivory Coast, Cameroon and Congo, where Pson is based. It is not about just participating in the global arena; it is about reshaping it. By effortlessly blending a Congolese essence with a modern soundscape, Pson is actively contributing to the conversation, making it possible for Africans to stand on the main stage. Although other regions, such as Nigeria and South Africa, have helped shed light on the continent, there’s still a long way to go. And we are confident that Pson Zubaboy is a key player in this phenomenon that is worth watching.

“Ntaba Ya Kin” is Next Up in Africa’s Rap World

In the midst of the vibrant streets of Kinshasa, the Democratic Republic of Congo, there hides a reality, often met with terror, poverty, and hardship, that finds a way to rise from the ashes. It comes as no surprise that an American genre like Trap music would find a place in this Congolese community, reimagined and authentized into its own Congo Trap movement by local rappers like Kevin, better known as Bogo Thegoat, or Ntaba Ya Kin. The lyrical content and aesthetic both mirror the sound that dominated North America in the past years, but while it may have fallen off across oceans, it is because of Kevin’s storytelling that we choose to pay attention.

Like many young African boys, Kevin began his journey in the studies of Communication. For a long time, society has had everyone believing that the higher the level of education, the better the occupation you may land in the future. However, this concept, brought from the Occident through colonization, dismisses the reality that young Africans often face on the continent, from higher-ups' corruption to monthly payment rates as low as 50 dollars, which is currently the average that Kinshasa’s residents make. This idea that education is elite fails to recognize the lack of infrastructure in many African cities, actively preventing innovation and alternative ways of revenue from taking shape, where young Africans could thrive and keep up with the entrepreneurship of the world.

Kevin is no different to this harsh reality, and after his grandfather’s death, he decided to drop out of school and focus on music solely. In only 3 years, he has managed to garner an audience who not only sees themselves in his lyrics but also can find an escape in his music. Similarly to how Trap music in the US has given young black boys an alternative to the inescapable firm grip of gang violence and poverty, Kevin’s rap influences a generation long scattered and silenced. It obliges authorities to rethink their involvement in destabilizing the population and its chances of aspiring to a better life.

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When you ought to try something new, it comes with its setbacks. Although Rap music is a thriving genre in Congo, it is nothing compared to its dominant sounds, such as Rumba or Soukous. Thus, it is up to Kevin’s persistence and ambition to keep this momentum alive. While Bogo Thegoat mostly raps in Lingala, which would target a smaller group than, let’s say, musicians who speak in French or English, his sound is so well-curated that it surpasses language barriers and has been met with millions of views across social media.

When you observe his fashion sense, it screams modernity and in-the-know of what young people, even outside of Congo, currently consume. When you listen to his interviews, he speaks in a sophisticated manner, in which you understand every thought process and what has ultimately brought him to pursue music and his plans for the future. It goes without saying, Kevin is Congolese through and through; he mingles with Trap music and its essence because he thinks more about having a global impact rather than just regionally. Which sets him apart.

In that sense, Kevin is radical in his approach, daring to branch out not only from a society that looks down on freedom of expression but also from a sonic culture that has seen little to no evolution from its Congolese origins. You see, the thing about Congolese people is that they are naturally very patriotic. Congolese music is made for Congolese people, and therefore, they have little interest in urbanisation or even making it more accessible with mixtures of languages or aesthetics, for example. For this reason, the music scene has seen little change, and that’s where Bogo Thegoat comes in. He challenges the status quo, showing how far one can go with just determination and a desire to push their music to the world.

It is hard to predict whether Bogo Thegoat will manage to take his music out of the Congo, or even stay true to his roots once he does. Kevin’s message is pivotal in shedding light on a generation completely set aside and in need of a leading voice, similarly to how Trap music has impacted young people in the States. Unlike what most may think, Kevin’s music doesn’t glorify the hardship of Kinshasa, but unleashes reality in a way that can not be folded away and ignored. We are confident Bogo Thegoat can reignite Trap music, while showing everyone a piece of the world that we often close our eyes to.

There is a specific kind of ambition in placing yourself on top of the world and asking seventy thousand people to watch. On April 1, Ye, the artist formerly known as Kanye West, opened the first of two sold-out nights at SoFi Stadium in Inglewood, California, performing atop a massive rotating globe structure that dominated the stadium floor, shifting between resembling Earth and something far lonelier - what one observer called "a lonely planet of one." It was his first US concert since 2021. It was also, more than anything else, a visual argument.

The set design - the result of a collaboration between Ye and Aus Taylor, with lighting by See You Later and Trask House's John McGuire is the clearest statement of intent the show produced. Taylor, a Baltimore-born filmmaker who has worked alongside Ye since the Donda era, has described his creative philosophy simply stating "Art isn't meant to be understood, it's meant to be felt." In his first-ever interview, published by 032c in 2024, he outlined a career built on deep creative relationships rather than commissions and a refusal to work for money rather than mutual admiration. When credited as the set designer on Instagram following the show, Taylor corrected the framing: "Ye & Aus. I'm just a vessel." 

That sense of shared authorship is legible in the production itself. The globe is not a neutral stage prop. It is a deliberate visual language. Ye elevated, solitary, presiding over a structure that contains the whole world and simultaneously reflects his own psychological isolation. He performed in a black mask throughout all the while obscured from the audience even as the crowd responded to his presence. Fog swallowed the stage repeatedly. The backing track frequently overpowered his vocals, making it difficult at times to confirm he was rapping live. None of this felt incidental. It felt like a condition. The terms under which this particular return was being offered. 

The production had its rough edges, and Ye did not attempt to hide them. He stopped “Good Life three times to correct his lighting director yelling, "stop doing the vibrating Vegas lights, bro. We went over this in rehearsal." He restarted 'King' and 'This a Must' after mic and sound failures. The famous perfectionism that produced ‘My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy’ was on display not in a flawless show but in the live, visible negotiation between an artist and his own vision. In another context, this would read as chaos. Here, it read as consistency - the same man who delayed ‘Donda’ for months over sound mixing was stopping a 70,000-capacity stadium show because the lights were wrong. 

For two hours, Ye moved through his catalogue - Bully cuts giving way to ‘College Dropout’, ‘Graduation’, ‘Watch the Throne’, ‘Yeezus’, ‘The Life of Pablo’ with Don Toliver joining for 'Moon' and 'E85', and North West appearing for their collaboration 'Miss Westie'. The generational range of the crowd was its own kind of testament. Elder millennials mouthing every word of 'Can't Tell Me Nothing' alongside Gen Z fans discovering ‘Bully’ in real time, all of them standing beneath the same rotating globe, all of them watching the same masked figure trace the same lonely orbit at the top of the world.

Ye's comeback is complicated by things that do not disappear simply because the music is good -  and the music is good. The catalogue is enormous and undeniable. The Wall Street Journal's apology of January 2026, in which he addressed his antisemitism and his bipolar disorder, was an acknowledgement rather than a resolution. The globe does not solve any of that. What it does is frame it. Aus Taylor's philosophy -  that art should be felt rather than understood - is doing real work here, because the clearest thing the SoFi show communicated was not redemption or explanation but a specific visual feeling: a man, a world, a great deal of distance between the two.

That the production occasionally broke down, that the vocals were sometimes swallowed by the fog, that the lights needed correcting three times, none of it disrupted the central image. If anything, it reinforced it. The globe kept turning regardless.

Setlist - Night 1, SoFi Stadium, April 1 2026 King / This a Must / Father / All the Love / Father Stretch My Hands Pt. 1 / Can't Tell Me Nothing / N-s in Paris / Mercy / Praise God / Black Skinhead / On Sight / Blood on the Leaves / Carnival / Power / Bound 2 / Say You Will / Heartless / Moon (with Don Toliver) / E85 (Don Toliver) / Miss Westie (with North West) / Good Life / Through the Wire / All Falls Down / Runaway

IG:@ffeistyhuman

Confidence is not an unusual virtue in the music industry. Nigerian singer, songwriter and producer, Omah Lay “born Stanley Omah Didia, in Port Harcourt” initially began his career working behind the scenes as a music producer before transitioning fully into recording under his own name. Now that name, has found itself  at the center of conversations across the Afrobeats scene following a recent interview with http:NandoLeaks.In.  In the interview, where  he made a bold statement about his place in the Nigerian music industry. 

Omah Lay came into the limelight in 2020 with the release of his debut EP ‘GET LAYD’, which featured songs like ‘Bad Influence’ and ‘You’. The project quickly gained popularity across streaming platforms and introduced listeners to his emotionally driven songwriting style. He has collaborated with several artists within and outside Nigeria, with appearances on projects connected to figures like Davido, Wizkid and the international pop-star artist, Justin Bieber. These collaborations contributed to his reach to an audience beyond the African continent. 

“When it comes to the art and making music, I’m the best for the last 20 years”, he said during the interview, a remark that many fans and music commentators interpreted as a confident assertion of his artistic ability. The interview also generated debates after Omah Lay commented on the structure of the Afrobeats industry. 

According to him, the genre’s cultural and commercial power is vested in Lagos, which is believed to be Nigeria’s entertainment capital. He went on to suggest that the sound and direction of Afrobeats is shaped historically by the Yoruba cultural influence, a statement that sparked mixed reactions. 

As clips from the interview continue to circulate online, reactions remain polarizing. Some commentators interpret the statement as an example of artistic confidence and an honest observation on his part while others question how the claim fits within the broader history of Nigerian music as well as  the oversimplification of the diversity of voices that have contributed to Afrobeats evolution. 
The conversation arrives at a time when Afrobeats continues to expand globally with artists like Davido, Wizkid and Burna Boy being widely recognized for pushing the genre into the international space in the past decade.

Within this landscape, his comment about being the best artist of the past two decades has drawn comparisons with established figures who built global fan bases and long-standing careers within the industry. 
The singer’s remarks have added a new layer to the ongoing conversations about identity, influence and recognition within Afrobeats, a discussion that shows no sign of slowing down. The Afrobeats conversation has once again proven one thing: in music, everyone would have an opinion, but history would decide the legacy. 

With his latest release, “CLARITY OF MIND,” now making its way to listeners, the conversation around Omah Lay shows no signs of slowing down. Whether his remarks are seen as confidence or controversy, the conversation reverts to music and whether it lives up to his claim.

(Ig: anuhola_)

On Lagos, Longevity, and a Voice Meeting the Music Halfway

Have you ever asked a friend to recommend  to you an artist with a velvety, feathery, silvery voice?  These were my exact feelings when  listening to Nora for the first time. July being the first song listened to;  started with an euphoric, crescendoing beat , then followed Nora's velvety voice which fits the song title perfectly.

Chidiebere Felicia Anyiam-Osigwe (also known as Nora)  was born on April 26, 2002, in Lagos. Her love for music started forming early, influenced by her parents, even if it didn’t look like something serious yet.

She started singing at the age of 7, and her parents were encouraged in church to support her if this was something she wanted to pursue .

‍"I started singing in church and it blossomed. Our pastor told my parents: 'If this is the career she wants to take, encourage her. Don't try to make her a lawyer or doctor. Let her do it.' So I was really encouraged. I attended Ayo Bankole College of Music and MUSON."

At 13, her devotion to music became so strong that she was getting bullied for singing too much, “I kind of, uh, but it never really stopped me, you know, I just kind of knew that I was talented to do. Entered  a competition, I got to meet ICE , Shout out to ice.” 

Her career really started at 17 after she joined the Eko Hotel Tropical Christmas  in 2019 .
One of the judges said something very simple “get her into the studio” and that was the starting point for her. 

She has collaborated with artists like  Tim Lyre for OMD,

Ronehi and Aylø for July ,

and now her single Chidi’s Heartbreak sits as part of where she currently is, still building, still figuring things out in real time.

She’s also learning how to produce, which she actually enjoys, because it lets her connect to her sound in a more personal way, and the interesting thing is her process always starts the same way, with a beat, not pressure, not trying to make something perfect, just a beat, and then she lets it grow from there, almost like she meets the music halfway instead of forcing it.

She talks about her support system in a way that feels very grounded, especially her mum, who is her best friend, her manager, her confidant, and then her siblings, her friends, and her mentor ICE NWEKE, people who are around her not just for the music but for her as a person, which is something she clearly holds onto.  

“ First of all, I consider myself extremely lucky with the type of family and friends I have .They see me for who I am and just want the best for me. They were there you know in every performance, every show, especially my mom who is my manager and quite thankfully my best friend. 
She is my rock.
She has been not just there for me emotionally, but also physically. 
She would cancel things on my behalf just so we could go for a meeting, just so that I could pursue my dreams. 
You know what I mean? And I’m very  grateful for that. And my sister, my brothers, I feel like me saying my family are my biggest fans. 
The rest of everybody else is just gonna be like, well, I'm here  because that's how much love I have.”.

Her inspirations stretch across different sounds and eras, Tems, Sade, Michael Jackson, and ABBA, and when you think about it, that mix makes sense with the kind of softness and control her voice carries.

She also spoke about being nominated for Leading Vibe Initiative  founded by Tems, and the way she described it didn’t feel rehearsed, it felt very in the moment,

“Honestly, I sent my application on the day of the deadline, I was at my best friend’s house, I used my phone to record, I wasn’t even thinking too much, I just said let me do it and see what happens, boom I got an email saying I got selected”

and then having Tems acknowledge her voice, that part sits quietly but it means a lot, the kind of validation that doesn’t need too much noise around it.

And through all of this, one thing she keeps coming back to is learning to love herself and accept who she is, which sounds simple but clearly isn’t, especially when you think about the different phases she has moved through in the last six years, growing, adjusting, staying with it.

She also mentioned, almost casually, that she does soprano, and it feels like one of those details you don’t fully sit with until later, because when you think about her tone, her range, the way everything is still forming, it starts to feel like you’re watching something take shape in real time, not rushed, not forced, just becoming what it’s meant to be.

Close your eyes and imagine the bass thumping in a Lagos club. The DJ drops a new track. Within 10 seconds before the lyrics even start, the whole room knows exactly who it is. That specific drum pattern, that choral backup, that particular "vibe” in your mind, you know that’s Asake. But before the song even finishes, someone in the corner is already scrolling through Twitter, typing out the same tired complaint: "He sounds the same. When is he going to give us something different?"

At first glance, that might seem like a fair critique. After all, shouldn’t artists evolve? But the reality is more nuanced. So what’s really going on here? The issue lies in how audiences often misunderstand what artistic growth looks like. There’s an expectation, especially in fast-moving digital spaces, that growth must be obvious, dramatic, and constant. Listeners want reinvention: a new sound, a new persona, a clear shift from what came before. But in practice, that’s not how most great artists evolve.

Take Asake. His music blends modern Afrobeats with traditional Fuji influences, rhythmic chants, and street-inspired flows. He dominated the charts for two years straight. But almost immediately, people started complaining that he was sounding the same. What that criticism missed is how evolution was already happening, just not in the loud, obvious way people expected.

Asake didn’t abandon his core sound, and that’s exactly why it worked. Instead, he refined it. His production became more layered, his vocal control improved, and his songwriting grew more intentional. The chants became tighter, the flows more deliberate, and the overall sound more polished. To a casual listener, it might still feel familiar. But to anyone paying attention, there’s a clear progression. And that’s the point: great artists don’t always evolve by changing direction completely. They evolve by going deeper into what makes them unique.

Now, even rising Nigerian artists like Fola are experiencing early criticism for sticking to a sound and theme despite still being in the process of defining their identity. Right now, he has a particular sound and a certain type of message he leans into, and yes, if you listen to a few of his songs, they might feel similar.

But that’s actually normal. When an artist is just starting, repeating a style isn’t a mistake; it's how they build identity. Think of it like this: if every song sounded completely different, you wouldn’t even know what makes him him. The “same sound” people complain about is often the exact thing helping listeners recognize him.

The same goes for his themes. Many artists, especially early in their careers, talk about similar things like love, hustle, lifestyle, and emotions because that’s what they’re currently connected to. Over time, as their lives change, their music naturally expands. The problem is that people are asking for change too early.

Fola is still in the stage of introducing himself. Expecting him to switch sounds or topics immediately is like asking someone to change their personality before you even understand who they are. Growth in music doesn’t happen overnight. First comes repetition, then mastery, then expansion. So instead of seeing it as “he sounds the same,” it’s more accurate to see it as: he’s still building his foundation. 
And it doesn’t stop with emerging artists. Someone like Wizkid, who has spent over a decade shaping the global sound of Afrobeats, still faces similar comments about his newer releases “sounding the same.” From a broader perspective, having a signature sound isn’t a weakness; it’s an advantage. It’s how audiences recognize an artist instantly. It’s what turns a song into a brand. In industries beyond music, consistency is often praised; in music, it’s strangely treated as a flaw.

Even experimentation, when it happens, works best when it’s natural. Rema’s shifts, for example, felt intentional because they stemmed from artistic curiosity rather than external pressure. There’s a difference between evolving and reacting. And for veterans like Wizkid, consistency often reflects mastery. After years of experimenting and influencing the soundscape, what remains is a refined identity, one that doesn’t need to prove itself through drastic change constantly.

The bigger takeaway here goes beyond Nigerian music. Across global music scenes, fans play a powerful role in shaping narratives around artists. But not every familiar sound is a sign of stagnation. Sometimes, it’s a sign that an artist has found their voice and is choosing to develop it rather than abandon it. Because real growth isn’t always loud. It doesn’t always come with a complete rebrand or a sudden shift in direction. Often, it’s quieter, more deliberate, and more sustainable. And sometimes, the best thing you can do for an artist is simple: let what works, breathe.

The truth is simple: if a sound works, it deserves time to breathe. Sometimes, the real artistry lies in going deeper, not wider, which means refining a sound until it becomes timeless. Because in the long run, it’s not constant change that builds careers. It’s clarity, identity, and patience.

Odeal’s sold-out show was another testament to the growth and musicality he has shown as an artist. Whilst most of the music industry was gathered in Manchester for the MOBO Awards, 5,000 people knew the place to be was Brixton’s O2 Academy. There, Odeal brought to life his 2025 EPs The Summer That Saved Me and The Fall That Saved Us.

As expected, the show was nothing short of an exceptional display of who Odeal is and where he is in his career. No doubt, this era will stand out as a strong moment in his career. The show blended his musicianship, as showcased by his band on stage, with his vocals, which came through amongst the Brixton crowd.

Opening the show with Free Me, he took the crowd on a journey through his discography, with fans hanging onto every word and flawlessly performed notes. Standout moments on the setlist included “Blame U,” “In The Chair,” “Soh-Soh,” “London Summers”, “Addicted,” "You're Stuck,” and the show closer, “Miami.” The hour-and-a-half set showcased the versatility he brings to his music, fusing rich R&B melodies with Afrobeats. Odeal appeared as the stylish man he is, rocking an all-black outfit, before changing into another outfit and returning to the stage later in the show.

As hometown shows go, he truly gave homage and thanks to the fans, making it feel like a celebration of one of their own. The crowd's energy was a reminder that there's no place like home and no love like the love from home.

Already cemented as an artist who has miles to go in terms of where his career is going, it's only from here, and in terms of what show he brings to the stage, we are looking forward to seeing him when he next takes the stage.

The UK’s music run is far from over. Video game-themed visuals, Jerk-era fashion, British slang and distorted beat productions are just the tip of a virtual iceberg. Ever since 2023, they have dominated youth conversations online, often the ones setting new trends and dictating the next soundscape. An angle that is currently left out of the equation is rising female artists. And how they contribute just as much to this phenomenon that is influencing youth culture on a global scale.

We have selected three starlets we believe are up next and are destined to cause all sorts of ruckus this year. They are talented, they are fresh, and their sounds represent Black British music at the highest calibre.

Meduuulla

‍Meduuulla is a Zimbabwe-born Manchester rapper with the slickest lyrical plays you may find in the Hip-Hop scene right now. She was first introduced to us in The Rap Game UK in 2021. Following a couple of years of absence, Meduuulla released a well-received 2023 EP titled ‘Oblongata’, comforting our ears with jazzy instrumentals and soothing bars. Recently, she debuted her 2025 album, ‘Tabula Rasa’, in collaboration with producer Ethan Hill, proving this is Meduuulla’s world and we’re just roaming in it.

dexter in the newsagent

‍dexter in the newsagent, or dexter in short, is a South London singer-songwriter who had her big breakthrough in ‘dexters phone call’ by Jim Legxacy for his 2025 album ‘Black British Music’. Shortly after, she’s been catapulting in relevance. Her voice is soft, often accompanied by guitar rhythms. Her lyrics cut through one's heart, commemorating words to her late father, a central subject in her music.
Dexter’s universe feels deeply personal, and we’re lucky enough to be granted a glimpse into it. She wears her stories like armour.
Dexter’s 2025 mixtape ‘Time Flies’ was only a taster, and as her music grows, so will her influence.

Sade Olutola

‍Sade Olutola is a British-Nigerian baby joy that expresses Gen Z emotions in the most fun ways possible through her music. For example, her song ‘2099’ feels apocalyptic with a flair of just straight amusement. Sliding upon electronic productions and a vintage-like sound system, Sade is the perfect teenage heartthrob. Coupled with her Y2K look and ecstatic visuals, she naturally holds all of the elements of a 22-year-old born star in the making. 
Although her recent EP ‘Arrow Heart’, a 5-song selection of her greatest output, sent waves in the music sphere, it is still too early to state how her career may blossom for years to come.

What’s so special about today’s listeners is that they don’t care about sticking to the status quo, and as a result, young artists are now freer than ever. Rather than letting a specific genre define them, they encapsulate their own blend of sonic styles, letting their creativity and freedom of expression reinvent themselves. Whether it is in Hip-Hop, folk, or Pop anthems, the female imprint is boundless and travels across sonic grids. Just like their male counterparts, we can’t wait to see they will take this generation next.

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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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:

Editor-in-Chief: Roderick Ejuetami

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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