Nigerian singer and songwriter Chidozie Godsfavour Ugochinyere, better known as FAVE, broke through in the stillness of 2020 when viral freestyles cut through the noise and “Baby Riddim”  cemented her as one of Afrobeats’ most promising voices, a blend of soul, R&B and raw honesty. Since then she has carved her own lane, collaborating with Olamide on “PonPon”  and “Want” and with Davido on “Kante”, while keeping her writing intimate and emotion first. Now, on the cusp of her debut album, Global Afropop superstar Yemi Alade sits with FAVE for a candid, cross generational conversation about artistry, ambition, softness, strength and navigating the spotlight as African women in music today.

Yemi Alade: Most times your songs explore romance and vulnerability, and also have a subtle strength, especially in the texture of your vocals and how you transmit those emotions with your range. How do you balance softness and emotional honesty while still holding on to the parts of you that need guarding? How do you create your art, as music?
FAVE: For the most part, my emotions are usually heightened, which people mix up with being someone who just cries a lot. The difference is I feel every emotion very deeply, almost too highly. In my songs, even if you can tell the story I am talking about is sad or dark, the way my voice delivers things always seems like, “Oh yeah, this is someone who is strong,” talking about this particular type of situation. There is a lot of strength in my voice. That comes from how much I feel things. I am not the kind of person to have an experience that passes me; I always feel it in a very, very deep manner. So I translate that in my songs, and I try to make sure I can let the listener feel that emotion as well.

Yemi Alade: I think that is very beautiful, for you to feel that side of yourself and be able to translate that into music. Inasmuch as you say you may be singing a sad song but it sounds strong, I feel like there is strength in being able to sing the things that people keep on the inside. It is like speaking your own truth; the truth can never lie. That’s really beautiful. Omowunmi, when I started off my career, the one thing she told me is that anytime I sing a song I should make sure that it is true. If it is a sad song, I really need to sing like I am sad; it’s called emoting. I feel you are very good at emoting, especially when you go on sad songs, even when you sing, am I supposed to dance or cry?

Yemi Alade: Either way, you are an emoter. Feeling emotions the way you do is a blessing. I am the same, oh.
FAVE: I know now, Pisces.
Yemi Alade: Are you a Pisces? You’re a March baby?
FAVE: Yes! Our birthdays come after each other.
Yemi Alade: We’re actually even birthday mates. Forget it, it’s over!
FAVE: That’s why we are one and the same.

Yemi Alade: You hinted you were going on your very first tour. How does it feel to go on your first tour outside of the motherland?
FAVE: Going on tour for the first time is something I have been waiting for, for a long time, patiently, not anxiously. When it is the right time, it will be the right time. I didn’t want to rush things. That paid off because a lot of artists starting off don’t realize tour is a lot of money; production, styling, traveling, accommodation, and you have to cater for the other people on the road with you. Most people are in a hurry to tour: “Yeah, my song is popping; let me go to Europe, let me go to America,” but if you don’t have sufficient money, you almost won’t enjoy yourself. You might end up in debt. When we finished the tour, we still had money to pay people.
It wasn’t a huge tour. Out of ten cities, we went to seven. I figured I should be the only one on stage; traveling with a band would not be cost effective. So we did new productions of songs I already had on streaming to make them sound live, a reconstruction of the beat. We got a music director to arrange the songs with a live band. I did half my set live with no backing track, and the other half with the track; I was doing mostly dancing and singing. I paired the two sides of myself: the side that loves to sing with nothing underneath, and the side that wants a party, a dutty party. This tour let me show both sides, calm and collected, and high energy, very ragga, in love with dance and upbeat music. I enjoyed myself on tour.
I will put my money toward a band or anything that adds to the music experience, as opposed to what I look like. What’s important is my connection with the people on stage, the music. Wearing shoes that I can’t move in, I don’t want that. I am at the stage of small halls, 500 people. I want to enjoy this stage before things get bigger.

Yemi Alade: That is a very beautiful unraveling of events. It is important for every musician to go into the world, experience things, and make their choices. Some artists will wear their home clothes instead of investing in styling because you are fixed on the vision. You are such an intelligent musician. I feel a lot of artists are losing their musicianship, it is dying because they are not watering that flower. I am happy you intend to water it. I pray all the means you need will come in the exact quantity you need. What are five things that are always in your bag, show night or daytime?
FAVE: My wallet with my cards. Makeup, because you never really know; you have to touch up here and there. Chewing gum, because the night goes on and then you’re like, “I need a fresh breath.” A pocket perfume, those small samples. My phone. And if I am going to the beach, I would probably put in…
Yemi Alade (at the same time): A pair of glasses.
FAVE: A book.
Yemi Alade: I never read at the beach before; that’s another level!
FAVE: I think because I’m in the U.S., I am seeing the other side to culture; normally I would never do that.
Yemi Alade: I took a book to the beach once to shield myself from the sun. It did something. 

Yemi Alade: On tour, what was your favorite city; the one you felt you really connected with?
FAVE: Amsterdam!
Yemi Alade: Amsterdam is iconic for me too! Don’t tell me it’s the weed… don’t tell me it’s weeeeeed.
FAVE: It’s not! Amsterdam is amazing. I enjoyed myself from beginning to end. The reception from the crowd was shocking; hearing them sing word for word. It felt like we were performing together. New York was really good; D.C., too. But Amsterdam was different. The energy felt like Lagos, your own city. After the show I took photos with a lot of people; it was nice to connect outside the stage. Why was it your favorite?
Yemi Alade: On my first European tour, that was my last city. I discovered they are very in tune with African culture. You see posters around the city with white chalk marks, African musicians. They love Fela. They are rooted in the history of Afrobeats. And they want to sing your song to you, like they are performing for you. Every move you make is appreciated. It’s like there is a connection you can’t see, vibrations. Amsterdam has a very high vibration.

Yemi Alade: What’s your dream city to perform in that you haven’t yet?
FAVE: I don’t have a venue. Growing up, I never took interest in venues; I just knew big stage or small stage. It was last year I found out what Madison Square Garden was; I am vibing. But Brazil, because people say Brazilians are willing to dance to anyone’s music and accept anyone. It’s about people knowing how to connect with your music. They are receptive; their ears are open. With a Nigerian crowd, sometimes people don’t listen; they wait to vibe with the most popular song. I’m chasing places where I can convert people who’ve never heard of me before. I want to sing to a crowd in love with music so they discover me and we connect. That’s what I want to do with my life.
Yemi Alade: That’s beautiful. You’re describing festivals. Abroad, everybody leaves home to have fun. They receive you whether it’s slow or fast. I can’t wait to see you at festivals. Brazil is fun to perform; I’ve been three times, São Paulo and another city. They will rock your world. They have Yoruba ancestry; they are rooted in the culture and rhythm.
FAVE: Exactly! That rhythm. They have it in them as well.
Yemi Alade: The favela is kind of like the ghetto. They have nice things there. I can’t wait for you to go and enjoy it.
FAVE: Anyone reading this, you need to buy me a ticket to Brazil.
Yemi Alade: Direct, please take her to São Paulo.
FAVE: São Paulo, I’m coming for you.
Yemi Alade: But don’t go anywhere they tell you not to go.
FAVE: I am an obedient tourist; my stubbornness hasn’t reached that level.

Yemi Alade: Every artist has emotions or sounds they usually don’t indulge. Since you have a new album coming, are there sounds you previously weren’t a fan of that made the album?
FAVE: : Yes. Growing up on music, I always felt Afrobeats was something I would never do. I felt the pace was too fast for me and it focused too much on rhythm and beat and less on lyrics. I’ve always been in love with deep music; Adele, Sia the poetry of it. My first single, “M.O.M.M.S.”, in 2019 is very slow, very lo-fi. In 2020, when COVID hit, I decided to try something new. I tweeted for producers to send me beats, and I posted videos on Twitter. That’s how I met Afrobeats producers. I started writing a lot. “N.B.U” popped after a freestyle went viral; that was my first Afrobeats song. From there, I realized I don’t have limitations. If I connect with a sound, I’m eager to do what I can on it, because the vibe I bring isn’t something anyone else has brought before. Now I don’t say no to a genre. In sessions, when producers ask, “What genre?” I say, “Play me anything.” I have a song on my project called “Afrobeats.” On it I’m talking about how I dey run from Afrobeats but Afrobeats still comes to look for me. As an African, you can’t really run from it. It’s in your blood. Foreign instrumentalists sometimes find our rhythm difficult, but tell any African player, “Play pam pam parampan,” they get it. There’s a connection in our blood. I need to explore that. So it used to be Afrobeats, but no more.

Yemi Alade: That is beautiful. I hear the soul in your voice. What about songs inspired by a movie, a book, a random conversation, a third party point of view, anything that didn’t happen directly to you? Is there a song like that on your album?
FAVE: Let me think. I have to list the album songs in my head.
Yemi Alade: Take your time. Was everything written purely on your experiences?
FAVE: I think so. Honestly, it’s hard to tell. I absorb things easily. Some experiences I’ve seen and registered with me could end up in a song, mixed with my experience. For the most part, these are my stories. There’s a song where I’m telling people to awaken their “rude government.” I got to a point where I felt people come and go. Time is fickle and precious. If there’s something you want to get done, do it. That’s the rude awakening. Get up and move. You don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Use the time, the people, the resources in front of you. Explore. Go out. Don’t limit yourself in the name of “I have time.” I want people to listen and feel like, in some way, they know who I am.

Yemi Alade:  Lola Young. Her song “Messy”  was the first I heard. She just released “One Thing”. I’ve been following her since I discovered her. She is different to me out of the box, unconventional. Her voice is not conventional. Sometimes she talks while singing and then goes back. It’s amazing. I know you’ll like her if you check her out. She toured recently and dropped a video for the new song very unconventional. Usually, when it’s time to shoot a video, people expect us to look cute, be beautiful, and be a woman. I love when women push the boundaries and do crazy things. You’re not so concerned about looking pretty because you already are. If the story you’re telling has to get you bloodied or tattered to pass the message, then that is what we have to do. That song and video push me to be more unconventional as an artist, which I’ve always wanted. Besides that, her music is amazing. She’s my number one dream collaboration.
Yemi Alade: Have you established contact with her yet?
FAVE: No. I don’t even know how that’s going to happen.
Yemi Alade: Sometimes you put it into the universe and people echo it and it finds its way to you.
FAVE: Yes, I am putting it out there.

Yemi Alade: Most times, people prefer that women in the industry are not opinionated. They want us to focus on aesthetics and be pretty and quiet. How have you coped with that? What’s your advice to women who will come after you?
FAVE: Whatever you feel you want to say, your opinions matter. We’ve come too far to be quiet. Being emotional, intuitive, and observant doesn’t serve the world if we can’t say what we’re feeling. I am opinionated, and sometimes it bites me, but I would pick that over being quiet. Closed mouths don’t get fed. You can end up five years down the line in a career you haven’t been 100% in because you were trying to make others happy. Say what you’re feeling. You have the same rights. It’s not fair when you feel a type of way about something and don’t say it.
In the industry, especially with men, it can be shocking to see how they react when you insist on something. In Beyoncé's tour documentary there’s a scene where she told a guy the camera and lens to use. He said he didn’t have that lens. She asked again, “You don’t have that lens?” He said, “We have it, but we thought we wouldn't need it.” She said, “You need to get the lens.” That happens often. Sometimes a man feels like your opinion isn’t valid because he thinks he’s the expert. You find yourself repeating things or explaining when you shouldn’t have to. We should trust each other and do what’s necessary especially when it concerns a woman. Say your mind. Be respectful, but say your mind.
Yemi Alade: The media and even sweet fans try to pit one artist against another. I’ve experienced it. I’m sure they’ve tried it with you. What is your message to the media?
FAVE: The media has been this way since the dawn of time, clickbait, ways to make money. It’s worse for women. They don’t accord the same respect. They act like there’s only space for one woman, which makes no sense. You have all these men, and you’re not pitting them unless there is cult beef between fans. With women, it’s like there can only be one queen. That’s my issue with the blogs. Women are the prize. Too often here they think women are inferior in music or entertainment. In the rest of the world women hold the baton. They don’t realize how powerful a coalition of women can be. My note to them is simple: just watch and see. With time, we ourselves are going to change things for the better.

Yemi Alade: To wrap up, if you could describe your album in one word?
FAVE: Splash!
Yemi Alade: What’s the title of the album?
FAVE: I don’t want to say. I’ll tell you in private.
Yemi Alade: What should people look out for, what’s the “It” factor?
FAVE: Me. I’m the “it” factor.
Yemi Alade: Hey, wahala oh!
FAVE: This is my first album. I don’t know what people are expecting, but whatever it is, the album will supersede it. I am putting my entire everything into the project.
Yemi Alade: How many tracks?
FAVE: I feel it’s going to be 12, but anything can happen and we might add one more for an intro. But it’s going to be 12.
Yemi Alade: That’s my hardest part, the selection, because I’m attached to every song. Most times I wish I could step out when the team is selecting, but if they pick, I’ll come and be against everything.
FAVE: You’re like, “Oh my God, this song is not there.”
Yemi Alade: Yes, yes, yes. So the best way is for all of us to choose it together, je je. We had such a great conversation. You’re kind to have shared your thoughts so openly. I hope the best for you. I can’t wait to experience you on stage, and eventually both of us on stage at the same time.
FAVE: Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to do this interview. I would have preferred nobody else but you, to be honest.
Yemi Alade: Thank you, my sweet potato! You’re so sweet, FAVE! Honestly, you are really sweet. I appreciate your personality and who you are. Abeg, try not to change. Don’t allow this bitter world to change you. You are a sweetheart. I pray the best for you always. Keep doing you, my darling, plenty money coming your way, abeg, plenty money. Bye, darling.
FAVE: Bye. Thank you, my queen!

Deeds Magazine is honored to bring you this rare meeting of minds between Yemi Alade and FAVE. As they compare notes on vulnerability, touring, genre boundaries and finding their voices, you can hear their shared commitment to authenticity and a fearless desire to push the culture forward.

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Photographer/Producer: @debraorols
BTS/Video: @colematthews408
Styling: @Elsshaban for @7thstreetshowroom
Makeup: @charismaraye
Graphic Designer: @shalemalone
Management: @savingsoft
Record Label: @atlanticrecords

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One way of viewing an artist's career in its entirety is to consider it through the lens of the canon events that spangle its tapestry. Take the case of Ye, who is perhaps Hip Hop’s most notorious provocateur. His career is typically bifurcated into his pre and post Life of Pablo eras—the period in which the album was released is considered by many as the start of his inexorable unraveling. For BurnaBoy, who is one of Africa’s greatest exports, the period in which he released his 2018 globe-trotting hit Ye, is considered to be the start of his ascent to global superstardom—and by effect, his most significant canon moment. 

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By this measure, one of the most effective ways to consider Gunna’s oeuvre would be to split it into two categories: projects before and after his 2022 RICO charge, which involved more than 27 others affiliated with YSL Records, including Young Thug, who at the time was Gunna’s close friend and label boss. 

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When in December of 2022, after spending 7 months in jail, Gunna was released after pleading guilty to one charge of conspiring to violate the state's Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, he began another kind of interment, this time swapping the physical bars of a jail cell for pariah status within his immediate community. The reasons for this shift are various, the most significant however is that many interpreted his plea deal as evidence of him having cooperated with federal agents, even though he has refuted this claim. Since regaining his freedom and facing the  attendant blitz of criticism lobbed at him since then, his music has commensurately taken on a dark, brooding tenor. 

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In Bread and Butter, from A Gift and a Curse—his first album after his RICO charge—he’s wistful, solemn, as he reflects on flaky relationships and makes a case for his innocence. “I had been down bad inside a dark tunnel,” he sings over melancholy chords. Later in the song he sings “Never gave no statement or agree to take no stand on 'em/ On whatever you niggas on and trust me, l'ma stand on it.” His desperation to be heard, to be believed is palpable in these lyrics. Likewise they elicit a visceral reaction in the listener: we all know the feeling of being misunderstood or worse—falsely accused. In The Last  of Wun, he’s still addressing these interlocutors but where in A Gift and a Curse he offers desperate entreaties, here he’s rapping with a chip on his shoulders, meeting the scorn from his antagonists with equal derision. 

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It’s telling that a lot of the album finds him rhapsodizing about his opulent lifestyle and how far he’s come—themes he frequently plumbed in the period before his RICO trial. But while he interrogates familiar themes he does so with a newfound confidence that bespeaks maturity. “Live my life like a movie, how I do it, you can imagine/ I spent trip this winter in a jacuzzi, in the cabins,” he raps on Let That Sink In, a slow-burning track in which he cheekily dispatches subliminal shots at his antagonists and exults in his grandeur. Sakapse, gp, Just Say That, Him All Along, and the Offset-assisted At My Purest, find him in a similar register interspersing panoramic tableaus of opulence with cheeky taunts directed at his foes. 

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Wealth, particularly the obscene, bombastic kind, is a well-worn trope of Hip-Hop, having been explored by everyone from Jay Z to Lil Baby. As a result, it can sometimes feel vacuous, cliche. But hearing Gunna rap about speeding down the block in his black Maybach or splurging on watches in Zurich has the opposite effect. The glistening production and the intricate details he supplies confer the album with a cinematic quality. Take Sakpase. With a production that feels lush and whimsical in equal measure, listening feels like a late night commute to a party. You’re with a party of friends in a barely lit car, booze is flowing freely, as are other stimulants common at parties. It’s not so much the thoughts of the party that excites but the experience of being jointly steeped in anticipation for what the night might offer.

Some of the most exhilarating moments on the album arrive when he retires the playful jabs on songs like Let That Sink In in service of more potent blows to his foes. Listening to Podcast, for example, evokes the feeling of leaning up in your seat while playing a video game to get serious. In Biting My Game he derides his enemies for being “broke as a pencil,” and accuses them of “biting my game.” Across the song he offers boastful lyrics about his elevated lifestyle. But here, the intent is less about self-exultation than it is about taunting his foes. Herein lies the strength of the album. In the hands of a lesser rapper, this project would perhaps have spiralled into a reckless and frenzied display of vengeance, creating a project too toxic for a casual listen. Gunna however lacquers moments of vindictiveness with picturesque tableaus of opulence. The effect? It truly feels like he has moved on from the hurt he variously alludes to in A Gift and a Curse and is now living his best life.

KIARI, Offset’s third solo album, has just dropped, and it is an empathetic and emotional contrast to his earlier works. Offset embodies the adversities he has faced to this point, weaving his passion and pain into lyrics and melody. The project feels like both a personal diary and a proclamation of a new identity. This complexity gives the album layers, adding a depth that makes it distinctly powerful. Offset is intentional about the emotional focus he places on this project. “I named my album KIARI because it’s like me looking at myself in the mirror—my real life, how far I’ve come and what I’ve done, the good and the bad, the mistakes.” Throughout the 18 tracks, he intricately balances ambition with emotional vulnerability, each song contributing a unique element to the masterpiece that is KIARI.

The album is a refined blend of trap beats and textured backdrops. Offset doesn’t stray far from his musical instincts, delivering an album that is both emotionally layered and unmistakably his. Unlike his previous solo projects—Father of 4 (2019) and Set It Off (2023), which centered more on fatherhood, fame, and success—KIARI introduces novel themes.

One of the most emphatic emphasis on his personal struggles is encapsulated with “Move On,” where Offset reflects on his split from Cardi B to which he handles with  notable maturity. The refrain “Tryna move on in peace” runs through the chorus, emphasizing his acceptance of the situation and his resolve for detachment. Yet he also hints that this peace may not be mutual. Lines like “Happy for you, why you ain’t happy for me” and “Not playing yo’ games today, we look like some fool” suggest conflict and lingering pain.

“Never Let Go” is another song on the tracks that carries deep introspection. It is a powerful tribute to Takeoff where Offset candidly mourns his loss and addresses this grief had impacted his life.  “I lost my brother, but I gained an angel,” he declares. The song is both elegy and affirmation, showing his willingness to carry grief while moving forward. He underscores the physical toll of loss, rapping, “Ain’t been the same ‘cause this pain fuck up everything. I mean everything, I even lost the wedding ring.” Featuring John Legend, the track uses Legend’s soulful vocals as a vessel for raw emotion, heightening the song’s warmth and poignancy.

Although the album embodies Offset’s emotional journey, the trap genre’s trademark upbeat tempo sometimes undercuts the emotional storytelling, creating a tension between bouncy rhythms and affecting  themes. This distraction risks the project being dismissed as just another Offset release, even as it strives to push beyond.

Still, KIARI is undeniably Offset’s most complex work to date. The ingenious blending of contemporary trap with authentic self-exploration reflects both artistic growth and emotional maturity. With this album, Offset fully embraces the solo persona, stepping out of the shadow of Migos. More than just a collection of songs, KIARI is an album birthed from adversity, a raw and layered body of work that cements Offset as an artist willing to turn personal struggle into powerful art.

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Walk in. Hear the room before you see it. Racks that feel handpicked, not crowded. Pieces that look like Lagos energy. That’s Engine Room, a new concept store set up to do one thing well: put community first.

The idea is simple. Bring young Nigerian brands with real followings into one space. Let their audiences meet. Let the energy bounce around. Keep the curation tight so every item says something. Every piece has a reason to be here.

The Engine Room Store isn’t trying to be everything to everyone. It’s a store that edits. The team only brings in pieces with intention and weight. If it hangs here, it has a point of view. Their own in-house drops already show that approach, clothes with references, story, and character. Inviting other labels into the room stretches that vision into a wider circle.

The timing could not be better, Lagos has talent, but not enough places where independent designers live side by side in real life. Online communities are thriving, but there is still nothing like touching a jacket, trying it on, and talking to the people behind it. Engine Room Store wants to return that feeling to the city and make it normal.

Their plan is quite simple. Every month, five new brands come in for a pop up. They show up with their pieces and their people. After the weekend, the best of those pieces remain on the shelves. Discovery turns into access. You find something new, and then you can come back for it. This is  more than racks and price tags; it’s a meeting point for a scene that already exists. Artists, stylists, photographers, kids who love clothes, older heads who collect, everyone in one place, arguing in good faith about cuts and collars, trading game, building taste.

The store itself is part of the experience. It looks and feels like a concept space, not a conventional shop. It’s made for hanging out, not rushing. You can show up with friends, browse slowly, and leave with one piece that actually fits your vibe.

Engine Room is betting on something that has always moved culture here: proximity. Put the right people in the same room, and the city will do the rest. If you care about Nigerian fashion, this is a place to keep on your weekly route.

First wave lands this Saturday, August 23rd, 2025. This will be an extended pop up, running from 3 pm to 3 am. Come for the discovery. Stay for the community. The pieces you meet won’t disappear when the lights go off; you will find them in the engine room store after the weekend.

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Defying gender norms is in. Misogynistic thought processes, however, are proving harder to push out.  At the 2025 Afrofuture concert, Nigerian artist Asake surprised fans with a cobalt blue pixie cut. Known for his wardrobe containing pieces from the women's section of clothing stores, as said in his interview with GQ magazine, Asake is persistent in his slight deviance from the gender norms. Asake’s look was hailed as bold, but it is obvious that men in the spotlight often embrace genderqueer fashion, simultaneously reinforcing the very stereotypes that continue to diminish women.

“Wearing skirts or pixie cuts doesn’t dismantle misogyny if you’re still holding up the walls that confine women,” said Lagos-based cultural critic Jumoke Adebanjo. “The issue isn’t men exploring feminine style, it’s that society praises them for it while still policing women who do the same.”

Asake isn’t alone. American rappers Drake and Kanye West have long played with silhouettes, accessories, and aesthetics that blur gender lines. Drake appeared on stage in painted nails and colourful cropped jackets, while West made skirts a centrepiece of his Yeezus era. Both, however, have faced scrutiny for lyrics that objectify women and perpetuate sexist tropes.

In fashion, Tom Ford pushed androgyny to the forefront, designing for both men and women in ways that merged sensuality with power. Yet Ford’s campaigns often drew criticism for treating women as props, further complicating the narrative. “Equal opportunity objectification” was his defence, one that did little to unsettle the underlying issue.

Fashion historians note that this contradiction has deep roots. Medieval Christian thought linked women’s adornment with promiscuity, marking feminine self-expression as dangerous. Those ideas echo today in the way society still judges women more harshly for clothing choices while praising men who adopt similar looks.

Experts warn that style alone cannot dismantle systemic sexism. “Men entering ‘feminine’ fashion spaces are celebrated as innovators,” Adebanjo said. “But when women own their femininity, whether through clothes, lyrics, or makeup, they’re often reduced to stereotypes.”

As artists continue to embrace gender-fluid looks, the next step must be accountability: ensuring that liberation in fashion does not mask regression in thought.

“Defying gender norms should be about breaking boxes, not just decorating them,” Adebanjo added.

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Ibadan Raised, NYC Made is a love letter between two cities. Opening September 11 in New York, CEOJAY’s debut brings together photography, short film, set design and a signature tracksuit to show how people carry heritage into new futures.

At its heart, the exhibition is a love letter: to the cadence of a city that raised him, and to another that sharpened his craft. It draws on the everyday rituals of Ibadan; market calls, school colours, family language and refracts them through New York’s grit and speed. The result is a room-scale narrative where visuals, sound and texture work like chapters of the same story.

To attend, RSVP here.

A key work is the “Ibadan Raised, NYC Made” tracksuit, designed with Akama and Orisha Temi. “The green and yellow colourway is a reference to my school AFCS (Air Force Comprehensive School) school team colourway that earned the tracksuit its name, AFCS 18th Legacy Set.” A hidden “Flying Colours” wing structure is embedded in the sleeves, and the wings unfurl when the wearer spreads their arms, a subtle symbol of ambition and rise. Elsewhere, an “O Gbona” vignette, rooted in a bread seller’s morning call, folds childhood memories into contemporary set pieces and styling. A short film connects these moments and brings the exhibition’s sonic and emotional palette to life.

Ibadan Raised, NYC Made bridges heritage and evolution through immersive visuals, fashion and storytelling. The project honours Ibadan’s legacy, frames identity as strength and invites a wider conversation about creativity across cultures.

Exhibition details

Title: Ibadan Raised, NYC Made, an exhibition by CEOJAY

Opening: Thursday, September 11, 2025, New York

RSVP / Tickets: Here

Format: Photography, short film, set design, visual art and a fashion piece

Press contact:info@deedsmag.com

About CEOJAY
Olajide Alabi, known as CEOJAY, is a Nigerian director and multidisciplinary creative whose work merges film, photography, set design and fashion into generational stories. Originally from Ibadan and now working out of New York, he has collaborated across music and culture, including the award-nominated video “People” for Libianca. He has also played creative roles with artists such as Adekunle Gold and Pheelz, alongside campaigns with global brands. He founded Panel Members, an invite-only think tank dedicated to shaping cultural ideas.

Most people would have turned around and gone home. After all, going to the club three nights a week just to have a roof over your head isn't exactly the glamorous side of the fashion industry that gets posted on Instagram. But Halimotu Shokunbi isn't like most people.

The co-founder of 268 Studios has carved out a space where modeling, photography, creative direction, and production intersect— not as separate pursuits, but as complementary expressions of a singular vision rooted in authenticity and community. From sleeping on bunk beds in New York to buying a house in Nigeria, from viral controversies to award-winning short films, Shokunbi's journey reads like a masterclass in turning obstacles into opportunities. Her story isn't just about creative success; it's about the power of genuine connections, the courage to bet on yourself, and the importance of staying true to your roots while reaching for something bigger. In this candid conversation, Shokunbi opens up about the three identities that shape her worldview, the sacrifices that fueled her rise, and why she believes the best legacy isn't just what you create— it's who you inspire along the way.

Deeds: You’ve been called a “multi-hyphenate creative force”— model, designer, photographer, producer. When people ask what you do, how do you introduce yourself?

Halimotu Shokunbi: It depends on who I’m talking to, I’m not gonna lie. If I’m talking to somebody that’s a photographer, I’ll say I’m a photographer just so I can ask them questions. If I’m talking to somebody who’s a model, I really don’t say I’m a model because I feel like it’s a little vain to just be talking about how we’re all over billboards and stuff. But it just depends on who I’m talking to. Mostly I just introduce myself as a creative. I’m just an all-around creative. I kind of do anything and everything. And then if they ask me questions, I go deep into it.

Deeds: How do you manage to excel across so many disciplines without losing focus?

Halimotu Shokunbi: It’s cool because all my creative focuses are in the same realms— photo, modeling, video, creative directing. All these things fall in the same category. And also just my community, for real. There’s no way I can lose focus when everybody around me is doing some crazy-ass sh*t, and all of the things that we do kind of intertwine with each other. Can’t lose focus, man. I can’t.

Deeds: Looking back at that moment when you packed a single backpack and flew to New York for a Pat McGrath casting during the COVID 19 period, what gave you the courage to make that leap?

Halimotu Shokunbi: My mother gave me the courage to make that leap. I had a bad experience in modeling in 2018 when I first came to New York. I had a manager who made me think I wasn't capable of making it. So I moved back home. Then I saw this casting for Pat McGrath through Dionne Cochran. I told my mom, and she was like, "Just submit to the casting, you never know." I submitted and was asked to come in for a callback. I told the casting director that I was based in New York, but I was actually still in Texas, in the middle of my junior year at UNT, with a store I was running. I really only had the courage to submit because my mom always told me I could do this and to never let an opportunity pass me by. My mom gave me the last $500 in her account to get a ticket to go to that casting. I went, didn't end up getting that job, but I ended up posting some test shots my previous manager wasn't a fan of, and that got me signed. But because I only planned to be in New York for the week, I was stuck with a choice: "Go back to Texas and get my degree and come back? Or stay here, thug it out and see what happens?" I confided in my mom again, and she said, "I'd rather you stay there and fail, know this route isn't for you, than to sit here thinking 'what if I bet on myself one last time?'" And that's all the courage I needed, for real.

I stayed in New York with that backpack full of clothes for six months without going back home. I had to go to the club three nights a week to have a free place to stay for six months— every Monday, Thursday, and Friday. I couldn't miss a night because that would mean I had to pay my promoter $200. I didn't know what a net-90 was, so I had no money. I was wearing the same clothes over and over again, only eating on set or through a Neon coat. Man, I was just figuring out a whole bunch of sh*t.

Deeds: How did you manage that mentally?

Halimotu Shokunbi: I was just on autopilot. I don’t think I had any time to really sit down and think, “Oh damn, this is a lot.” It was more like, I don’t want to be here—how do I get out? And what do I need to do to make that happen? That was my mindset.

On top of that, my Mum and my brothers were a big help. I talked to my Mum five to seven times a day. I was praying my five daily prayers, going to the masjid every Friday. That helped me a lot. The year I came to New York, I didn’t have any friends. I changed my phone number. I deleted my Instagram. I was focused on making it in modeling, getting out of that situation, and helping my family back home.

Deeds: What would you tell that version of yourself today?

Halimotu Shokunbi: “Girl, you’re gonna be good.” I would tell my 2018 self who was sitting in a promoter’s apartment, getting ready to go to the club at 11 PM just to have a roof over her head: “You’re going to be fine. Keep going. Don’t change what you’re doing. Don’t look for friends. Keep it up.”

Deeds: You mentioned there should be “no egos involved” when collaborating. As a co-founder of 268 Studios, what’s your philosophy on fostering genuine collaboration?

Halimotu Shokunbi: I don’t have a set philosophy because that’s just how I’ve lived my whole life. Genuine connections— I’ve said this in every interview— My community has given me every opportunity I have now. All the jobs I’ve gotten, even our company for the most part, have been through connections, recommendations, and just being real people doing good work. Once you’re a real person and the work is there, it might take a little time, but it’ll work out.

So anybody we work with— no egos. At 268, we’re four women who do amazing work together.

Deeds: What gaps did you see in the creative community that you wanted to fill?

Halimotu Shokunbi: When I moved to New York, the community to me was P96, PJ. When I would go to his events, I would feel real community. That’s the kind of energy I felt back home in Texas. My friends and I— 20 of us chilling at the crib on Thanksgiving at my mama’s place— that's a real community. Not the hashtag version.

I’m talking about when I need my apartment packed, I know who to call. Or we’re just sitting in the crib eating, having game nights. We don’t need to dress up, put on a camera, go out to a club, or be at an event to call it community.

Deeds: Your “3 Identities” self-portrait series sounds deeply personal. What drew you to explore identity through your own lens?

Halimotu Shokunbi: I wanted to start shooting my own self-portraits mainly because it was cool. I was inspired by Gabriel Moses. He did a cover story with Louis Vuitton and Hommes magazine. And when I saw that, I thought, damn, shooting a self-portrait on the Mamiya is actually kind of cool.

The three identities I recognize myself with are being Black American, African, and a Muslim woman. I was born and raised in Houston, Texas, and I didn’t visit Nigeria or any part of Africa until 2022. I identified with being Black American. Growing up in Texas, I feel like if my name wasn’t Halima, people would probably think I was American more than African. But I’m African first—first-gen Nigerian, first-gen African here. My parents were both born in Ogun State.

Going to Nigeria in 2022, I was able to truly identify myself as Nigerian. It’s silly, but I felt like I was too American for the Nigerians and too African for the Americans. When I went home to Nigeria for the first time, I thought, damn, this is home. I’m really Nigerian for real. Whether I can speak the language or not, I’m Nigerian.

And then being Muslim, born and raised as a Muslim woman. My name is Halimat. My parents are deeply rooted in our religion. I am getting better in my faith, but I will be a Muslim to the day I die. Those are my big three identities.

Deeds: Reuniting with your father after 20 years and then buying a house in Nigeria— these seem like full-circle moments. How do these personal victories fuel your creative work?

Halimotu Shokunbi: I don’t know how I would say they fuel my creative work because, to be fair, I think I do a good job of separating my real life from my creative life. It definitely made me feel good, and I was happy to be there.

Being in Nigeria for the first time or seeing my dad after 20 years didn’t inspire me to make a documentary or photo series based on that. I like living in the moment. It inspired me to be closer to my family and go home more. Since my first trip in 2022, I’ve been back eight times. So it inspired me to return more often—less about creativity, more about real life, because creativity already consumes my life.

Deeds: After the Rema controversy, you said “the love has been louder than the hate.” You’ve also spoken about being a Black woman, Muslim woman, and African woman in fashion— all identities with odds stacked against you. How do you transform these challenges into strength?

Halimotu Shokunbi: Exactly how I handled the Rema thing. I think that was a good example of how I live my life. If people are making fun of me or saying things they don’t like, if I can make lemonade out of lemons, if I can make water from nothing, that’s what I’m going to do.

At that moment, as much as I knew what they were saying wasn’t true— y’all know I’m not ugly. I’m not tooting my own horn, but y’all knew I wasn’t ugly. They knew it had nothing to do with my looks. But reading those comments, I thought, okay, I can do a couple of things. I can get on TikTok right now, make a video cussing them out— cool, but that might live for a day or two.

Or I could do something where I’m speaking for people who’ve been through the same thing and also make the people talking about me eat their words. The best way was through that article. I was DMing and emailing every publication, so many writers I knew. I wanted someone to cover it so I wouldn’t have to keep talking about it and it gets lost. And at the end of the day, I wanted people to eat their sh*t. If y’all want to talk sh*t about me, let me at least get some PR out of it. Thank you Mankaprr and Rollingstone for seeing the value in my story and many other dark skin women. 

Deeds: You’ve been vocal about colourism and featurism in the industry. How do you balance being a voice for change while focusing on your own creative growth?

Halimotu Shokunbi: I’m good at doing what I can with what I have. I’m not here to be an activist. I’m an activist for myself and the things I care about when I care about them. But I’m not here to be the face of the colorism campaign or the dark-skinned women campaign.

When these things bother me and affect me or the people around me, I speak up. But I don’t make it my personality. I focus on my creativity and my work. If something pops up— like with colorism— I speak on it when it needs to be addressed.

Deeds: You’ve worked across Nigeria, New York, London, and Milan. How do those different creative environments inspire different aspects of your work?

Halimotu Shokunbi: They definitely do. Nigeria and Africa in general inspire me to create beautiful work. I relate it to a lot of Afrobeats music videos. No story, just beautiful things to look at— scenery, colour, hair, outfits. I just want to create beauty there.

In America, I feel more hustle. It’s like, I need to create something that’s going to take me out of the hood. In Europe and London, it’s more collaborative— a balance of creating beauty and telling a story while still striving for more. But in America, when you’re struggling, that’s when your best ideas and your drive show up.

Deeds: You’ve talked about wanting to leave a legacy. What does that look like for LIMA SS, 268 Studios, and the communities you’re building? What’s still on your vision board that we haven’t seen yet?

Halimotu Shokunbi: For 268, I want it to be the production house. The way people think of Netflix for movies, Amazon for shopping, YSL or Louis Vuitton for fashion— I want 268 to be that for production, film, and movies.

I want our life and the way we have moved in the creative space to inspire people. I want our blueprint—how we did what we did, even if it’s just making our own backdrops— to make people think, “I can do that too.” Our latest short film, written and directed by Catia Correia, was shot with less than $500 and in collaboration with a creative community in Ghana called Small crowd. And we’ve already won 3 awards for it! I want people to be inspired by what we do because they know it’s possible. Not only that, but to show people, we can ALL win. It’s enough money in the world for us all to shine together.

For my personal brand, I live day by day. I just want to leave a legacy, whether in film, fashion, modeling, philanthropy, or writing. When I pass, I want people to say, “Damn, Halima lived the life she wanted to live. She created and touched as many people as she wanted to touch.” That’s the legacy I want.

There's something refreshing about talking to someone who genuinely doesn't care about being put in a category. Halimotu Shokunbi will introduce herself differently depending on who's asking, work across multiple continents without losing her Texas roots, and turn online hate into magazine features. She's not even trying to be inspirational— she's just living her life out loud.

Looking back at everything she's shared, from those brutal six months of club-hopping to survive, to buying a house in Nigeria, to building 268 Studios into what it is today— one thing becomes clear: Halimotu has never tried to be anyone other than herself. And maybe that's the real lesson here. In a world full of people trying to fit into boxes that were never meant for them, Halimotu just kept being Halimotu, and with perseverance the success followed. That's exactly what makes her story worth telling.

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When Lirian Santos steps onto any pitch, park, or beach with a football at her feet, something magical happens. The Brazilian-born, London-based creative doesn't just play football – she dances with it, breathes life into it, makes it look like pure poetry in motion.

Known across social media as "the Queen of Brazilian style," Lirian has carved out her own lane in the world of football freestyling, turning what could have been a barrier – being one of the few women in the space – into her greatest strength. Her videos don't just showcase incredible skill; they radiate the pure joy that made her fall in love with the beautiful game in the first place.

At 23, she's already become a beacon for young female freestylers everywhere, proving that football belongs to anyone with passion and a willingness to express themselves. But beyond the viral videos and jaw-dropping tricks, there's a deeper story about heritage, creativity, and reclaiming the joy that football was always meant to bring.

We caught up with Lirian to talk about defying expectations, Brazilian flair, and why she's on a mission to make football fun again.

Deeds: As a female, you got into the world of football freestyling. How did you defy the odds and expectations? 

Lirian Santos: When I started posting freestyle/football videos, I noticed there were very few girls doing it. Instead of seeing that as a barrier, I saw it as a gap in the market, a chance to bring something new to the scene. I dedicated hours to practising, creating, and sharing my journey online. With no set path to follow, I had the freedom to build my style and identity in the sport. As my content grew, so did the support.. For me, it wasn’t about proving anyone wrong. It was about showing what’s possible when you spot an opportunity and go all in.

Deeds: ⁠⁠⁠How did your love for football come through? 

Lirian Santos: My love for football started at a young age. It was more than just a game; it brought my whole family together, from cousins to aunties and uncles. Football was always in our blood. It was our way of expressing joy.

We’d spend hours playing in the park, and for us, it wasn’t just about scoring goals; it was about how you did it. Skills, flair, and beating your man with a bit of Tekk were what we valued most. 

That joy and creativity made me fall in love with the game. Watching Ronaldinho was a big part of that, too; he always played with a smile, and you could see how much fun and how much love for the game he had. He showed me that football is about happiness, expression, and playing with love.

Deeds: Being Brazilian, the founders of samba and joga bonito heritage - how do you express your diaspora heritage in your freestyling? 

Lirian Santos: Through every video I post, my goal is to bring back the joy and freedom that football used to have. I want to inspire people to play for the love of the game, not just see it as a serious, rigid sport shaped by big money.

Whether it’s trying a new skill in the garden or calling up some friends for a kickabout, I hope my videos encourage people just to have fun with football again. That’s what it’s all about for me.

Deeds: Who are your favourite Brazilian footballers - the top 3 you rank of all time and grew up with? 

Lirian Santos: Ronaldinho 

Neymar 

Vini jr 

Deeds: ⁠⁠So talk to us, for those who don’t know who Lirian is? Tell us more about yourself! 

Lirian Santos: My name is Lirian. I’m 23. I was born in Bahia, Brazil. I moved to London when I was 3. 

I’ve always loved football, but I didn’t always connect with the structure of traditional 11-a-side, especially in the English system, where things can feel rigid and overly serious. Over time, that pressure took some of the joy out of the game for me.

During lockdown, everything shifted. With team sports on hold, I started exploring other forms of football freestyle, futsal, altinha, beach soccer, and futevôlei. These variations reminded me why I fell in love with the game in the first place. They brought back the creativity, the joy, the freedom.

Freestyle especially allowed me to express myself in ways that 11-a-side didn’t always make room for. Futsal and Altinha helped me sharpen my ball control, and that made me a better player in traditional formats too. But most importantly, I rediscovered that football can be fun again.

Now, I’m on a mission to share that joy to inspire others to see football not just as a structured sport, but as a creative outlet, a source of happiness, and a global language. Through the videos I post and the way I play, I want to show that there’s no one right way to enjoy the beautiful game.

Deeds: ⁠The Brazilian style - I always see you showcasing it in your videos. What is the definition behind it? 

Lirian Santos: “Brazilian Style” is all about bringing flair, creativity, and joy into everything I do with football. To me, it means playing with freedom, making the game expressive and skilful, not just functional. Whether it’s freestyle, futsal, or just juggling on the beach, it’s about showing that football is art, not just a sport. ‘Brazilian style ’ is the energy I try to bring into every video, happiness, rhythm, and style, reminding people that the beautiful game should feel beautiful to play.

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Deeds: Queens of the pitch, such a cultivational movement! How did the whole idea come up? 

Lirian Santos: We’re a group of four girls who love football and want to use our platform to inspire other girls to get involved in the game. Representing a diverse group of people from different backgrounds, religions, and ethnicities, we reflect the diversity of London. That’s what makes our group powerful: we’re showing that football is for everyone.

We started QOTP to create content that makes football feel fun and accessible, while also showing that it can be more than just a hobby; it can be a career. Whether it’s through playing, content creation, coaching, or working in the football industry in other ways, girls belong in every part of the game.

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Deeds: Out of you and the girls - who is the funniest? 

Lirian Santos: Nafisa for sure 

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Deeds: ⁠⁠Do you think since the releases of like the total ’90s being back and other vintage masterpiece football shoes, they’re something you’d rock for fashion?

Lirian Santos: I think they’re super cool. I’m not sure if they would suit me, but I rate people who rock them, em, haha. Maybe I’ll give them a try. 

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Deeds: Share with us your ideal outfit for a football match, reflecting your style?

Lirian Santos: Baggy denim 

Cropped vintage football T 

Timberlands

After chatting with Lirian, it's impossible not to smile. There's something about the way she talks about football – like it's this magical thing that can fix any bad day – that makes you want to grab a ball and head to the nearest park.

Whether you're into freestyle or just love a good kickabout, one thing's clear: Lirian Santos is having the time of her life, and she's bringing everyone else along for the ride.

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Controversy—or more broadly speaking, being made into fodder for public discourse- is an occupational hazard of celebrity. Every public figure gets their share. In a sense, this penchant for dissecting and debating the minutiae of our favourite celebrities is as much a reflection of the innate human desire for gossip as it is a reflection of our tendency to venerate celebrities. We elevate them to standard fitting only perhaps for demi-gods. And so every lapse on their part takes on commensurate weight. Likewise, affronts to our favorite celebrities often come across as personal attacks, much like how one might feel aggrieved at a slanderous statement towards one’s religion or beliefs. 

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Tyla, like every other celebrity, is often the subject of public debate. But in recent times it has started to feel as though she is disproportionately affected by controversy. Last year, she was harangued several times by Black Americans who took offense at her addressing herself as coloured. The word “coloured,” you see has a different valence in America and in South Africa, where Tyla is from. While in America the word crackles with racist undertones that trace back to the Jim Crow era, in South Africa, however, the word is a common descriptor for people of mixed race. This misunderstanding however had her in the crosshairs of certain Black Americans. Her various wins at the Afrobeats category of several award shows have stirred controversy, as has her allusion that the chant “we wanna party” derives from South Africa.

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This time, the commercial performance of her just-released EP We Wanna Party has once again centered her in public conversation. The project sold about 3700 units in the US in its first week, which has prompted chatter about her “decline.” Social media is awash with comments, some malicious, others concerned about the potency of her powers which in 2023 spawned her tour de force Water. Joe Budden, by way of his eponymous podcast, echoed the sentiment, which had been gaining momentum on social media, that her modest, if “poor,” commercial showing is the result of her having “fallen out with the Black community”-an allusion to her comments about being coloured. All of this then raises the question of whether Tyla’s WWP flopped and what to make of her career trajectory.

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In answering this question it's first important to note that while Tyla has increasingly become a force within the American pop culture scene, she is not an American artist. She is from South Africa and presents herself as a global artist. So, using first-week sales in the US as an ironclad yardstick for gauging her success is entirely misguided. The second point to consider is that WWP is an EP with four tracks, two of which are pre-released singles. As it is an EP, the project also wasn’t propped up by the promotional expedients synonymous with pushing out an album. 

Having given nuance to the situation we can now look into the actual numbers. In its first week, the album tallied some 12 million on-demand streams on Spotify and crossed the 60 million mark on the platform (adding the extant streams of the pre-released singles.) These numbers are far from extraordinary but they are a far cry from the flop tag with which many have characterized the album.    

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If we similarly take nuance into account when considering WWP‘s first week album sales in the US, what turns up is pretty interesting. With around 24,000 units sold in the US in its first week, Tyla’s eponymous debut album is widely considered successful. But that number accounts for 17 tracks. Which means each track averaged about 1400 units. With 3700 units sold, Tyla’s WWP averaged 925 units per track, which is not astronomically far off from her successful album, which, by the way, had in it one of the biggest global hits that year. Another way to look at this is by comparing the numbers to similar projects by African artists. Wizkid’s 4-track S2, which holds the record of having the biggest first week sales numbers in the US for an EP by an African artist, recorded 4,500 units in its first week. 

Putting all of this in perspective, for an EP with two pre-released singles, Tyla’s WWP is far from a flop.

It has been five years since Fireboy DML released Apollo, and yet, the memories of hearing it for the first time remain as vivid as ever. I remember that cold night, just me, my earpods, and the quiet anticipation of a follow-up to his already-classic debut, Laughter, Tears & Goosebumps. 

The moment Champion played, I rose from my bed, overcome with goosebumps, shivers tracing my skin. The sound was bigger than music; it was a revelation. Then came Spell featuring Wande Coal, a song that embodied its very title. I was enchanted, caught in its trance, unable to do anything but surrender to the rhythm. By the second track, the addiction had begun. 

Eli and Tattoo pulled at hidden desires, weaving intimacy and longing into melodies so raw that I found myself yearning for connection. Fireboy wasn’t just singing; he was transmitting emotions, and I was receiving every pulse, every wave. By the time Favourite Song arrived, it was 2 a.m. and I was dancing alone, as though in a packed club. The project had already claimed the title of “favourite” before I even reached its halfway mark. Then came Airplane Mode, one of the most introspective records Afrobeats has ever known. Stark yet comforting, lonely yet inspiring, it spoke truths within the span of three minutes. Fireboy’s genius was undeniable, impossible to ignore.

Dreamer continued on that emotional axis, a ballad so tender it nearly moved me to tears. It was not just a vocal performance; it was a confession, a mirror for anyone listening. Few songs demand that you feel, but Dreamer does exactly that. And then, to close, Remember Me. A haunting finale that sealed Apollo as a body of work drenched in honesty, passion, and humanity.

This is not a review of the album—it is a recollection of emotions. A celebration of what artistry can do when it is honest and unfiltered. It is about remembering the way real music impacts the soul, the way Fireboy’s Apollo did, and continues to do, for countless listeners. Five years on, Apollo remains immortal in the history of Afrobeats. It was more than an album—it was a gift. And today, as we celebrate this masterpiece, we also celebrate the artist behind it. Thank you, Fireboy DML, for crafting a work so beautiful, so enduring, and so deeply human.

Touring has always been one of the oldest, most effective ways for musicians to grow, even before streaming and social media turned music into something we carry in our pockets.

In Nigeria, long before stadium shows and global festivals became the ultimate goal for most of our biggest stars, artists learned early on that moving from city to city, meeting fans in person, and performing for crowds that had only ever heard them on radio or cassette was the surest way to build something lasting. In the days when distribution was physical and promotional tours meant literally carrying your records from one radio station to the next, those who were willing to make the rounds found their names etched into the memories of people far beyond their home cities. University tours were a thing, and rightly so in those days.

Over the years, many Nigerian artists have embraced this approach, tailoring it to fit their careers and audiences. From the national roadshows of telecom giants in the mid-2000s that put dozens of acts on the road together, to self-funded campus tours, to label-backed promotional runs, touring in Nigeria has taken different forms but kept the same goal: to connect.

Runtown, for instance, was part of the 2017 Glo Mega Music Nationwide Tour, one of the most ambitious entertainment circuits of the decade, visiting dozens of cities and sharing the stage with some of the biggest names in Afropop. Mayorkun, early in his career, built a loyal following with his Mayor of Lagos campus and city runs, turning university fields and open spaces into screaming grounds for his growing fan base. Yemi Alade, although more associated with pan-African touring, has also made her mark locally, making sure to include Nigerian cities and campuses on her extensive performance schedules. Even smaller acts have understood that in a country with 36 states and a Federal Capital Territory, the audience is not just in Lagos or Abuja — the crowd in Makurdi or Calabar can be just as loud, just as loyal.

Nationwide tours, however, are a different beast. They require more than just booking a few scattered dates. They demand logistical planning that accounts for travel distances, venue readiness, regional differences in crowd sizes, and sometimes even local security realities. They can also be expensive, which is why they’re less common among newer acts and often undertaken by those with strong backing or a very clear strategy. And when an artist does decide to go that route, it’s usually because they’re trying to do more than just promote a single, they’re building a movement.

That is exactly what makes Llona’s story stand out. Known to his fans as Commander, Llona is an Indie artist who has spent most of 2025 on the road for his Homeless Nationwide Tour, a project that has transformed him from a promising name into a serious contender for the next wave of Nigerian stars. The tour was announced in February 2025 on Llona’s official page and kicked off shortly after, with Zaria as the first stop. From the start, the scale was ambitious. Public listings and promotional material point to a run covering 23 cities and 25 shows across the country; Zaria, Makurdi, Kano, Edo, Owerri, Ibadan, Port Harcourt, Taraba and a host of other cities, the point remains: Llona set out to touch as many corners of Nigeria as possible, and in doing so, he’s left an impression on thousands of fans who now sing his lyrics word for word.

In a recent tweet, he wrote about how even though a lot of people did not believe in the vision, he only needed his Manager, Mide, to believe in it.

That belief has been more than symbolic. Badmanmide, as he is better known, has been the steady hand behind the Commander story. Since spotting Llona online and linking with him in 2023, he has shaped the rollout of the Homeless album, built the strategy around its message, and carried much of the weight of taking a 21-city dream on the road. From managing logistics and negotiations to sitting beside Llona in conversations about the project, his role has been equal parts architect and anchor. The result is a partnership that feels less like artist and manager and more like two people betting on the same vision, and winning.

Touring across Nigeria is not just about the kilometres between each city; it’s about the cultural and emotional distance you bridge when you step onto a stage in a place you’ve never performed before. Llona has taken this to heart. From Makurdi to Kano, Abuja to Port Harcourt, down to the Lagos finale, each stop has been documented not just as another date on the calendar but as a shared experience between artist and audience.

It hasn’t all been smooth sailing; the planned Jos stop in Plateau State had to be cancelled due to security concerns, a reminder that while music can cross boundaries, reality sometimes draws its own lines.

At different points in the tour, Llona has shared the stage with some remarkable collaborators. Fave joined him in both Kano and Abuja, her voice adding another layer of magic to those nights. Wizard Chan, who was also billed for parts of the tour, appeared in Kano and is tied to performances in Port Harcourt, bringing his own fan energy into the mix. The Abuja stop, captured in a flurry of videos and fan clips, was a high-energy night where Llona’s performance of his single Dead Flowers turned into a communal sing-along, with the crowd shouting back every lyric.

By the time the tour rolled into Lagos for its grand finale, it had grown into something much bigger than a promotional run. That night at The Podium in Lekki saw appearances from MI Abaga, Ycee, Illbliss, and Ice Prince, turning it into an all-star celebration of one of the most ambitious tours Nigeria has seen in recent years.

The Lagos finale also marked a commercial milestone. Power Horse, the energy drink brand, had a visible activation at the event, an endorsement of Llona’s rising commercial value. Sponsorships like this are the kind of partnerships that nationwide tours can unlock, as brands look to align with artists who have proven they can pull crowds beyond the usual hotspots. It’s the type of synergy that makes touring not just a creative statement but a smart business move.

What’s made the Homeless Nationwide Tour so effective is that it’s been grounded in authenticity. Llona’s Homeless album, released in late July 2024, has been the heartbeat of this run. Instead of flooding the market with new releases, he chose to let the project breathe, building its life on the road. This decision meant that fans in each city weren’t just hearing his songs for the first time; they were stepping into the world he created with the album, a world they had already been living in through streaming and social media. The result has been a sense of ownership among his audience. They’re not just listening to Homeless; they’re part of it.

This approach mirrors the most effective touring strategies in Nigerian music history. The artists who’ve left the deepest marks are those who have been willing to go where the fans are, not just where the cameras are. It’s the same logic that drove those early Glo tours, the campus runs of the late 2010s, and the local circuits that still take place away from the glare of national press. For Llona, the Homeless Nationwide Tour has been more than a series of performances. It’s been a statement: that a young artist can take control of his narrative, can build his own momentum, and can create a cultural moment without waiting for the gatekeepers of Lagos or Abuja to hand him the spotlight.

And at the centre of that control has been the Llona–Badmanmide partnership. Just two years in, their relationship has already defined the way Llona moves: deliberate, independent, and vision-driven. It is the kind of manager–artist bond that often decides whether a promising career turns into a lasting one.

From the first chord struck in Zaria to the last cheer in Lagos, the tour has become proof of what’s possible when ambition meets planning. The cancelled Jos stop is a reminder of the unpredictability of the road, but the rest of the journey proves the point: touring in Nigeria still works. It still builds careers. And when it’s done with intent, as Llona has done it, it can turn a debut album into the foundation of a lasting legacy.

Nationwide tours may be rare, but they remain one of the most powerful tools an artist can use to grow. Llona’s Homeless Nationwide Tour has shown that even in a market dominated by digital hype, nothing replaces the energy of a live performance, the connection of shared space, and the slow, deliberate work of winning over one city at a time. In a country as vast and varied as Nigeria, that’s how movements are built. And right now, Llona is leading one.

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Osoranna Mojekwu, known as OSO, transforms forgotten materials — foil, wire, thread — into powerful artworks that reflect the depth of the Black diaspora. For him, nothing is ever truly wasted. Whether physical or conceptual, discarded things always carry a value waiting to be revealed. Working with sustainable materials is his way of proving that what seems disposable can actually be gold — you just haven’t refined it yet.

OSO’s ideas come to him like signals: a lingering dream, a person, an experience that won’t let him go. If the thought stays, he knows it’s meant to be made. “If I forget it, it wasn’t meant to happen. The real sparks never let me rest.”

For his commissioned piece at the Adidas Lagos Flagship store, Community: Humans of Adidas, OSO created life-sized figures built from recycled materials, each one wearing the adidas three stripes in their own way. The installation captures the individuality and spirit of Lagos youth culture — remixing global symbols through a distinctly local lens. The work celebrates the creative force of the diaspora across music, fashion, sport and art. OSO’s goal: that anyone who sees the piece — whether from Lagos or beyond — can recognize themselves or someone they know within it.

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This Friday, August 22nd, a unique musical experience awaits you at the exclusive Piano People In The Park, set to take place at Southwark Park in London. Following a triumphant launch that featured unforgettable sets from Vigro Deep, Young Stunna, and the iconic Scorpion Kings, the second edition promises an even more special performance-a two-hour set by the one and only Kabza De Small.

Joining Kabza De Small are some of Amapiano’s most diverse and talented artists, including DBN Gogo, Felo Le Tee, Scotts Maphuma, Kelvin Momo, Charcisse C, and Nicky Summers, among others. The festival, running from 2 pm to 10:30 pm, will treat you to 8 hours of non-stop Groove.

Following the success of Afronation Portugal, where the sandy beaches were graced by the likes of Uncle Waffles, DBN Gogo, Young Stunna, 2wobunnies, Nkozsana Daughter, Shakes & Les, KMAT and many others, we are now eagerly anticipating another incredible day of music, food, and vibes at Piano People In The Park. If last year is anything to go by, it will be a day of pure enjoyment.

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The opening day of the 2025 All Points East edition was filled with anticipation and excitement. The announcement of Cleo Sol as the headliner, alongside the collective SAULT and Chronixx, was a mystery that unfolded through a series of intriguing Instagram posts from both Cleo and SAULT, with the title of Provenance and the date August 15th. 

Once it was confirmed that the show would be the opening of All Points East, the lineup was announced, which included the likes of Kirk Franklin, Ms Dynamite, NAO, Sasha Keable, Joe Kay, Mariah The Scientist, and CARI, to name a few. There was a real buzz as to what the day would bring.

The anticipation came with several speed bumps, the first being the schedule, which was announced a few days before the festival was set to take place. With timing clashovers across several acts, it was going to be a day of running around from stage to stage. The second being the announcement on the morning of the that the headlining act set would be moved an hour earlier to 5 pm and be a continuous set, which raised some further confusion as to the various other acts that were set to be playing at the same time and which sets would have to be sacrifice for audiences wanting not to miss the main act. 

Nonetheless, the energy in Victoria Park was buzzing once I arrived at the festival. Navigating the stage timings meant catching a few moments from the artists. Catching the tail end of Mariah The Scientist, she closed off her set with her single “Burning Blue”, which sounded sharp with her vocals. Sasha Keable was unsurprising, given her run in the past year. Fresh off the release of her EP Act Right she stunned the West Stage with her powerful vocals as she delivered a 30 minute set that consisted of tracks from her EP including ‘can’t stop’ ‘act right’ ‘feel something, ‘WHY’ as well as previewing a new unreleased track ‘How Far’ which has previously been teased and was announced as being “On the way”.

The standout moment of the day was undoubtedly Kirk Franklin's performance. He delivered a Gospel performance of praise and worship that was brimming with high energy from the moment he stepped on stage. The crowd was electrified, feeling the energy of the music and Franklin's infectious enthusiasm as he danced, jumped, and moved around on the North Stage. His 45-minute performance, which included his songs like  ‘My Life is In Your Hands’, ' I Smile’, ' Brighter Days’ and ‘Love Theory’, was a truly enlightening, spiritually healing, and a celebration of love and positivity, which was much needed. 

Coming off the energy of Kirk, all was set for the delivery of the headlining act, which is where things took a bit of a turn. The initial set, which was due to start at 5 pm, began an hour later with the introduction to the mainstage beginning just after 6 pm. One thing that cannot be faulted was the stage design, which was a peak moment of the main East Stage. It consisted of a large pyramid in the middle of the field, connected by a long runway to the mainstage, which had various sandy-esque boulders and smaller pyramids on stage. The opening performance consist of an instrumental performance with an orchestra and a procession of actors and other performers who took to the stage and began what would consist of many dramatic displays across the night with a series of dramatic pieces which for some were comparative of a easter sunday church performance which infused storytelling that was described by some as a “GSCE drama performance.” However, the concept may have had some promise with its relation of provenance, the story of humanity and redemption and other aspects. Its execution did not quite come across as intended. With pieces often dragging out longer than they should have, the crowd became impatient to see SAULT and Cleo Sol’s musical offerings. The fact that this was set against the blazing heat made it even more challenging. 

As the evening progressed, SAULT’s appearance came with the presence of their not-so-mysterious members, which included Cleo Sol as they played through some of their songs, which included “Free”, “Let Me Go” “, Why Why Why Why and Wildfires” to name a few songs. After another set of dramatic performances came Chronixx, who had joined Sault to perform Warrior. His set was a standout moment of the night, set against the setting sun as he kept the seemingly restless audience going. The timing moved closer towards the end of the night. Everybody who had been waiting since 5 pm was ready for Cleo Sol, who closed out the stage. It was just before 10 pm, after a messy and confusing appearance of Mos Def (also known as Yasiin Bey), who was spinning on stage.

When the time came for Cleo to emerge, she did not disappoint as she entered the stage with the presence of a goddess and an angelic voice to match it as she played through a number of her songs. At 10 pm, of course, people felt that her appearance was too late and resulted in a set that was only 45 minutes to 50 minutes due to the curfew. All that being said all those that were waiting for hours to busk in her sounds and vibes were greatly rewarded as she sang through songs like “There Will Be No Fire” “Rose In The Dark” “Why Dont You” “You Are Loved” “Sunshine” as well as a preview of a new unreleased track.” crowds started leaving halfway through her not to miss the rush of the end of the festival. One might say that had she come onstage earlier, we could’ve gotten more than what was given.

All in all, the concept delivered great promise in its idea and what was meant to be put out there for the audience. However, the execution did not quite deliver as intended, for a setting that was not a festival and not set against 30-degree heat outdoors. It was a great effort made, but this is something that should have been taken into account with the various factors that impact a festival crowd. I’m sure some people might have appreciated the offering and felt like it delivered 10/10; however, for many, it stirred confusion, and many questioned some of the creative decisions. However, as a day of music, it delivered on that front.

Numerous factors are involved in the liminal space between a musician and international recognition.  In essence, these elements serve as the foundation of a musician's artistic appeal, forming their personality via constant improvement and offering a guide for negotiating a very unstable field.  Because they offer an agency to manage the complexities of the music industry, record labels are essential to the growth of art.  By providing them with a platform to market and showcase their music in ways that are beyond their capabilities, these brands empower musicians. They dissuade artists from being sequestered in their silos and therefore play an intricate role in shaping the course of one’s career, impacting not only their commercial success but also providing mediums to define their place in the music space. Record labels oversee everything, and this focus encompasses production, promotion, distribution, and exposure of their music. With proper management, an artist can essentially propel their career to greater heights, extending their reach and maximising their talent; this is the very problem.

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Artists are beginning to get used to the benefits of associating with these record labels, and it would seem that the greater majority of mainstream artists are showing a propensity to produce music in favour of eventually getting signed and maintaining their status as label stars. This has raised questions about the creative ethos of the contemporary music scene and challenged the independence of artists. Consequently, this has also created a lack of distinction or variance amongst artists and their contemporaries, consolidating the narrative that the majority of mainstream artists sound alike. This conformity greatly compromises the autonomy an artist possesses. They are a business, so they are financially motivated and would, therefore, configure the direction of the brand to what they believe would yield more monetary benefits. Invariably, that may cause compromises in creative expression and autonomy, as they often do not tolerate tangent ideas or thoughts. As a result, artists often struggle to balance creative expression with financial marketability.

In an interview, Charli XCX insists that labels pressure musicians to conform to actions that would make them globally liked. Shey says that, “These days, labels are desperate for artists to be liked, and the currency of niceness is really important in selling records; otherwise, you’re bad, evil, and wrong.” She says. “Persona is intrinsic to the modern-day artist, unless you completely reject it, and do something alien-like and cold… I can’t wait to do that, actually. I can’t wait for someone to be really cold and mean and icy. But we’re not in a place where any major artist could do that. I hope someone dares.” Essentially, Charli highlights how label marketing dynamics stifle artistic expression, establishing creative restraints that prioritise a superficial persona over one’s authentic self. Similarly,  Russ nods to the creative independence that comes with being an indie artist, saying that I just got to move on ideas quicker because I didn’t have to run anything by anyone. The freedom is unmatched.” He highlights the bureaucracy of implementing ideas and how these setbacks infringe on creative advancements.

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There seems to be an industry-wide pattern where contracts are drawn to label vision, even if that involves limiting creative freedom and financial benefits. Over the years, we have witnessed an array of musician and label controversies that highlight the contradictory landscapes between brand visions and artistic expression. 

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The ethos of the current music landscape reflects one that is generic and shows a penchant for following in the same direction as time goes on. Therefore, measures must be taken to enhance and refine the current music industry landscape. Unequivocally, the current milieu of the music industry has undergone a seismic shift with the integration of music record labels. The desire and voracity for label affiliations have stifled creative juices from the fruits of creative and innovative minds, leaving little to no room for creative growth. Therefore, we must stress the need for artists to be more discerning upon dealing with record labels. It is important to set boundaries and acknowledge issues when they have exceeded the threshold.

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Eight years after the eventful release of Wizkid’s third studio album, Sounds From The Other Side, I would like to say I was one of the early believers, one of those who fervently parried the deluge of criticisms that were lobbied at it upon its release, but unfortunately, I wasn’t. Certainly, I wasn’t in the camp of the denigrators either, a group of which BNXN is an alumnus. To be entirely fair, he wasn’t yet the celebrity he is today, or a celebrity at all. From all indications, he was your average unconcerned teen chasing a dopamine hit by firing off his latest incandescent opinion. But even so, the tweet is no less scathing. “If I say that Daddy Yo song is trash, y’all will probably go mad, so yay! Mad jam!” it reads.

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My initial thoughts were less dramatic, more vague, so vague that even I was unsure of my exact feelings towards it. In retrospect, it’s something of a delusion that I first listened to the album on the road. Maybe “road” oversells it a little. I was on a street with a party of friends, we were four in total. We had spent the afternoon ambling, no, roaming, rather aimlessly through the meandering streets that crisscrossed our neighborhood. We had hopped between all our houses, which served as layover points, where we could rest, eat, revel in sily and often titillating gossip, and, of course, play video games. So, thinking back, it’s surprising that I didn’t take advantage of one of our many stops to properly listen to the album, since I knew it was out. 

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I plugged my white Samsung earphones, those oddly shaped ones where one wire hangs lower than the other, into my ears, and navigated to the album. It was evening, the sun had turned purple-amber and shafts of gentle sunlight filtered into my eyes as I strolled amid friends. Listening to Sweet Love, which opens the album, in this balmy scene felt like an act of providence, like things were playing out just as they should. The song is upbeat, but not so much that it overwhelms or strips you of agency, leaving you the option of either dancing or tuning out. Sweet Love is gentle, inviting, beguiling. It shimmers with a distinctive summery aura; just like a Friday at the beach, steeped in booze, coastal breeze, picturesque scenes, and the tactile feedback of the sand beneath your feet. 

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The next song? Come Closer, an expansive and gloriously amorphous sound that cross-pollinates Afrobeats with the range of sounds emanating from the Caribbean at the time and the brooding variety of R&B being heralded by acts like Drake and The Weeknd. Even with a Drake feature, he held his own, took up space. The entire song scans as an announcement of his ascendancy. “Came into the game, no one replace me.” What a way to open a song! It flowed in seamlessly from Sweet Love, the first track. It also helped that it was the lead single and the third in a series of Wizkid-Drake collaborations. 

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The album began to come apart at the seams, for me at least, on track 3: Naughty Ride featuring Major Lazer. My verdict: too noisy. I had a similar opinion of the Chris Brown-assisted African Bad Gyal. It seemed to me that all the sonic elements were competing for the spotlight. The melodies were characteristically immaculate, but whatever pleasure they supplied was undercut by the relentlessly pummeling drums and those horns which are wholly jarring. I spent the rest of my time with the album like a petulant toddler running through a crate of apples by taking a hesitant bite and puckering his face before discarding it for another. 

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I managed to rescue some gems from the fragments: All For Love featuring Bucie, Picture Perfect, Gbese featuring Trey Songz, and Nobody. But as a body of work, SFTOS left many questions. I would later watch an interview—on Apple Music’s YouTube channel—in which a tangibly younger Wizkid, wearing a neon green hoodie, explains that he thinks of the project as an EP or a mixtape, and that he had originally intended to put it out for free. But at the time, the album’s sonic incongruity left me dazed, and not in a good way. In the coming weeks and months, as the star-studded album failed to occasion the kind of international success that many had projected, the criticism of the album would only intensify. And while I didn’t join the marauding mob, how could I? I liked a handful of the songs. I dawdled on the sidelines, watching it all play out in front of me. 

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On the 14th of July, 2025, the album turned eight. I had hardly scrolled twice before I started to see rhapsodic tweets about the album. Tweets praising the album for its innovative bent filled my feed. “This album was way ahead of its time,” appeared several times. In an interesting turn of events, BNXN posted a series of videos in which he passionately sings along to songs from the album. At some point, in one of the videos, he pauses and releases an excited gasp. “Cheee… Wizzy.” Given the visceral memory I have of the deluge of criticism the album initially received, the near-universal love it received on its eighth anniversary felt incongruous, almost. It felt like one of those movies in which the protagonist lands in an alternative universe, one that's almost a near replica of their original timeline, save for a few tiny details. 

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For all my surprise, the reality is that the critical opinion of the album has progressively softened over the years. One reason for this is that, bar a few exceptions, as projects recede in time, we tend to subliminally confer them with added heft, nudging them towards the rarified corpus we describe as “classics.” Humans tend to remember the past more fondly, reserving our indignation for the present and our anxieties for the future. Remember how we would bemoan the quality of old Nollywood films and compare them with their American counterparts? Isn't it poetic that these very films are now venerated for qualities such as faithfulness to portraying a close approximation of the Nigerian experience and the good-natured humor of many of these films?

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But beyond this, the album’s reputation has soared because when we listen to songs like One For Me, Picture Perfect, Nobody, and Come Closer, we recognize the early germs of what would become the distinctive flavour of Afro-R&B that Wizkid  has now perfected, the aural aesthetic that has ensured his continued relevance and produced songs like Essence, Frames and Slow. As such, the album has become something of a shorthand for the intervening phase in an artist’s career in which they lean into experimentation in search of something fresh. In defending Asake’s current phase, his fans tend to describe it as his SFTOS era. I have also witnessed this characterization being invoked in defence of other similarly left-field and misunderstood projects. SFTOS is not without its flaws, some of the transitions still feel wonky and the lack of a thematic anchor still takes its toll on the listening experience, but in an age where experimentation feels like an antique from a distant past, SFTOS is tangible proof of the merits of sonic innovation. 

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In a global pop landscape increasingly defined by borderless sound, Amaarae continues to be a rare kind of cartographer—one who charts new emotional and sonic territories without discarding the compass of her West African roots. Black Star, her follow-up to the critically embraced “Fountain Baby”, is less a mere collection of tracks than a kinetic constellation: each song a blazing fragment that, when connected, forms a vision of futurism anchored in history. The album is a study in hybridity, a sound that doesn’t just blur genres but seems to liquefy them entirely, pouring them into the molten mold of her voice. It is an album built on the confident synthesis of sonic worlds that rarely intersect.

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The opener, “Stuck Up,” hits like a strobe in a subterranean São Paulo club—its electropop chassis welded to the percussive grit of Brazilian funk. The lyrics don’t just pulse; they thump with the insistence of a bassline that refuses to release your sternum. This is music that doesn’t invite you to dance; it abducts you into movement.

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“Starkilla” takes a different orbit—futuristic techno rendered with a spatial, almost zero-gravity sheen. Amaarae’s voice, cuts through like a beam of light refracted in deep space. By interpolating Kelis’s “Milkshake,” she collapses two decades of pop history into a seamless fold, rendering nostalgia as a launchpad.

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The amapiano undercurrents emerge in “ms360” where log drums throb beneath a coolly commanding presence, of Naomi Campbell reading the lines ‘They call me a bitch, a villain, controversial diva, no. I am the Black star’ .This is Amaarae’s skill at its sharpest—making luxury and rhythm feel like synonyms.

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On “Kiss Me Thru the Phone Pt2” featuring Pink Pantheress the tempo eases, and with it, the emotional register shifts. The lushness of her vocals carries a kind of vulnerable clarity, the kind that doesn’t so much fill a room but makes a very lone presence. Sampling Sisqó’s “Thong Song” and nodding to Soulja Boy’s 2008 internet-era anthem, she transforms kitsch into intimacy, reframing it as soft confession rather than digital flirt.

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“B2B” is a rare feat of synthesis—electro drums and amapiano grooves converging into a midpoint where Spanish strings flare in a mid-song detour, changing the melody’s gravitational pull.  The romantic motif deepens in “She Is My Drug” where longing is sculpted into melody. Amaarae’s vocals pierce through the production like sunlight through blinds—narrow beams illuminating the contours of desire.

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The lead singles already hinted at the album’s scale. “Girlie Pop” is pure  gloss, but it’s “S.M.O” that crystallizes her ethos. Infused with 1980s Ghanaian highlife and undergirded by Detroit club bass, the track feels like an archival record rediscovered and electrified—heritage made ecstatic.

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Amaarae’s command over EDM emerges again on “Fineshyt”, where her lyricism doesn’t merely ride the beat; it fuses with it, like phosphorescent paint glowing against the throb of a club wall.  On “Dream Scenario” A collaboration with R&B legend Charlie Wilson, this track gleams with the warmth of a meeting between generations. Their voices weave together like silk and steel, creating a calm, celebratory space that bridges eras of Black music.

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“100DRUM” , where “Dream Scenario” is polished, wild and exhilarating. Distorted percussion (perhaps the titular hundred drums all at once) collides with submerged vocals in a dizzying whirl. Beneath the chaos lies a sweetness, proof that unpredictability can be beautiful.

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The final track “FREE THE YOUTH”  lands like a rallying cry. Heart-thumping percussion drives forward as Amaarae ties the album’s threads together — the cultural fusion, the genre-hopping, the defiance of expectation — into a sufficient thematic close. It’s a liberation anthem and a curtain call, ensuring Black Star ends not as a fade-out but as a brave punctuation mark. 

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Black Star is a luminous, shape-shifting project — too expansive for neat genre boundaries, too self-assured to dilute its vision. Every song is a new room in the same house: some lit in strobes, others in candlelight, all bound by the same foundation. By interweaving her West African roots with global pop futurism, Amaarae joins a vanguard of Black diasporic artists redefining the mainstream — not by asking for space, but by building new worlds entirely. 

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The album is alive with invention, and most of the time, that raw energy is its greatest strength. But there are points where ambition runs too close to excess. Some songs feel pitched just on the edge of coherence, threatening to collapse under the weight of their own ideas. Still, those are minor quibbles beside the bigger achievements: Black Star rides the tension between fusion and fragmentation, depth and danceability. It’s a project that insists you pay attention or give in.

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SZA wears a snug satin top outfitted with a colourful rococo-esque top. It’s paired with equally snugly-fitting pants. Complimenting the lurid patterns of the top, the pants feature a hazy print that invokes the sensation of staring at milk sloshing around in a cup. Atop the pants are red Adidas shorts and a band of pearls, wrapped loosely around her waist. Her hands are planted on the sides of her face, as if to call attention to the red, translucent glasses she wears; they look like a relic from the early 2000s. Sierra Rena, a 23-year-old wardrobe stylist based in New York, is the architect behind this look, and this picture of SZA looking gloriously luxuriant is the first image that appears on Rena’s website. 

The picture aptly captures Rena’s aesthetic sensibilities. In describing it, maximalist is one word that’s frequently invoked. And while this is sufficiently accurate, it doesn’t quite describe the full scope of what her work aims to accomplish. Shimmering across her work is a palpable appetite for risk, for pushing the limits of eclecticism and iconoclasm without falling into disarray. Organised chaos seems an apt characterisation. 

In her hands, formal and street wear seamlessly blend into each other, creating pastiches that feel refreshing and otherworldly. Sport gear: the Adidas shorts SZA wears in that picture, for example, is another motif that she generously deploys. It’s this relentless predilection for pushing rules to their limits that has earned her clientele that ranges from artists like SZA, Tyla, and Ryan Trey, to brands like Adidas, Nike, and Givenchy. 

What’s most fascinating about Rena’s foray into fashion is that, considering it retrospectively, it seems to be at once the likely and the unlikely career path for her. On the one hand, she comes from a family of avowed fashionistas. “My grandma’s been a seamstress her whole life... I think fashion is in my blood,” she says in an interview with Flaunt Magazine. On the other hand, however, she had been on a track to a career as an aerospace professional, interning for NASA, when she chose to jettison that path for a career in fashion. 

In 2020, she moved to New York City, from Silver Spring, Maryland, for college, and, as she describes it, the stars started aligning for her. “I sort of just started being in the right rooms, getting invited to brand events.” Her experience styling artists in a friend’s record label and making fashion content on social media culminated in a casting call for streetwear brand Bstroy’s collaboration with Givenchy. The dilemma? At 5’4, despite her sharp sense of style, she eludes the height requirement for models. “I was like ‘I’m not a model, I’m five-four!’ But my gut said, ‘Sierra, just ask to style-assist the shoot.’” Recalling the experience of working with the other stylists, she says, “It felt natural to me.” 

Since then, her career has grown exponentially. Despite her success in the traditional fashion world, she continues to invest in creating social media content. In addition to Instagram, she now regularly streams on Twitch. This, for her, is a kind of creative release, a way to engage with her passion—fashion—without the strictures of the traditional fashion world. But it’s also a way to peel back the layers of herself to her growing army of fans. “I think it’s really important to humanise myself, people have these parasocial relationships with the influencers they follow. I want to market myself, my ideas, my style, and the natural things I go through.”

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The New York Fashion Week (NYFW) is upon us, and fashion fans are ecstatic. When you think of NYFW, you think of diverse collections, dramatic silhouettes, and A-list celebrities. It is a cultural space for aesthetic appraisal, providing a medium to network and showcase the very best in cutting-edge fashion and design.

An exciting aspect of the show is the anticipation and showcase of newcomers. With every iteration of the show, newcomers provide innovative and fresh perspectives, promoting diversity and a robust fashion culture. Every annual roster involves meticulous alterations, carefully selected to match a certain theme or to accentuate a new focus. Amidst the panoply of high-end brands, our focus is narrowed to a few that differentiate themselves from the others. Their integration sparks conversations, evoking narratives that not only underscore fashion’s multifaceted spaces but also provide an auspicious environment for nuances or other brands that don’t exactly conform to the prevailing fashion standards. The current ethos of spectacle-driven branding is especially why this year’s newcomers—6397, SC103, Lii, and Maria McManus—have fashion enthusiasts raising an eyebrow. Although these brands differ in their design idiosyncrasies, they are united by a collective viewpoint that focuses on sustainability and ethical production. This shared ethos binds them.

Their integration in this year’s rendition alludes to more than branding the NYFW as a diverse melting pot, but it pivots to an exciting change in aesthetic perceptions; a narrative that insinuates that the future of fashion is in the nuances.

6397: Where Originality and Soul Converge

Stella Ishii, the genius behind the brand, describes her style as “simple, practical, and independent.” This has invariably informed the design and overall vision of 6397, conveying “a sense of integrity while managing to remain distinctive within a crowded and sometimes fickle marketplace.” Ishii has been deeply immersed in the intricacies of brand creative processes, which fueled the birth of 6397’s aesthetic language.

6397 is characterised by its denim staples, cozy knits, and boyish silhouettes, creating a style that is unfazed by trends and excitement. The brand accentuates individuality, comfort, and empowerment. It is tailored to cater to the apparel troubles of the modern-day woman, creating wears that are refined with a nuanced expression. 6397 thrives on its sustainability and craftsmanship. As Inshii puts it, “...We are working on sustainability, to be thoughtful about materials we choose—we strive to use organic or recycled fabrics where we can, as well as using biodegradable materials where possible. Also, we try to sample less and use environmentally friendly dyeing practices.” 6397 empowers an ecocentric philosophy, and it seems the NYFW wants to explore such terrains.

Their NYFW presence is a nod to 6397’s rising aesthetic allure, creating a space for niches that shape appeal before they become mainstream.

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SC103: The Progenitors of Avant-Garde Craftsmanship

SC103 presents a handcrafted style deeply rooted in artisanal tradition. Led by designers Sophie Andes-Gason and Claire McKinney, SC103 shows a tenacity for exploration, experimenting with various tailoring techniques to create unique pieces that showcase origami-like influences. 

SC103 designs feature-wears laced in subdued hues and vintage-inspired tailoring. Designs are placid and dramatic, creating a balanced melange of nostalgic undertones and avant-garde techniques. Their artistic direction redefines contemporary notions of luxury, presenting chic styles, glamorous geometry, and carefully crafted scarves.

Their inclusion in the calendar implies a spontaneity, almost a compulsion to bring a different perspective. It brings a freshness, a divergent motif in the NYFW lore.

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LII: Refining Vintage Minimalism to Suit Mainstream Taste

LII is a New York-based fashion label owned by genius designer Zane Li. LII is defined by its 90s American sportswear influences and its interpretation of modernity. It blends casual and formal elements, giving birth to an appeal that boasts of chic couture and an elaborate, playful style. LII continues to dazzle the fashion scene with its elegantly framed silhouettes and novel shapes that provide a fine sense of glamour and practicality. As a brand, it continues to break boundaries and shift contemporary fashion notions regarding what is considered acceptable. “People think that if you wear something ladylike or something old-fashioned and traditional, then you’re uncool,” Li says. “But I don’t think that way; I want to explore the possibility of putting practicality into glamorous dressing." 

Li does not view fashion from a single focus, and it pushes back against the idea that certain forms of fashion automatically create an outdated or unfashionable appeal. These ideals undergird LII’s commitment to cultural upheaval—a movement to define fashion outside the narrow frames of modern and trendy.

New York Fashion Week needs designers like Li to expand horizons and provide a different aesthetic. It extends the show to a much wider demographic, tapping into audiences that resonate with what LII is about. To say that we’re excited to see what LII brings this year indicates a likelihood for something new or different from Zane; however, we can stay unperturbed knowing that LII will do what it does best, showcasing magic with fabric.

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Maria McManus: Making Appeal Environment-Friendly

Maria is emphatic and intentional about creating minimalist and sustainable women's wear that is eco-friendly. By incorporating biodegradable and recycled fabrics, her designs prioritise a quality that is sustainable and long-lasting. There’s a robust sense of ingenuity and innovation that follows her craft, and it is truly remarkable how she manipulates waste and deadstock into long-lasting wears that harness a minimalist tinge. By creating wears that prioritise appeal and the planet, the eponymous label finds a balance between ethics and elegance, something we don’t always get to see.

Her presence this year consolidates NYFW’s attempt to encompass niches and expand the conversations. By integrating labels like Maria, NYFW nods to cultural awareness that is rooted in eco-friendly and minimalist paradigms.

These labels present a paradigm shift; a divergent focus from loud and edgy to mild and sophisticated. By integrating acts to promote sustainability, minimalism, and eco-consciousness, fashion is listening to the low volume. By giving these labels a wider platform to expose their art, NYFW can truly celebrate the full orbit of creativity, where whispers can be just as loud as shouts.

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As the fashion industry prepares for New York Fashion Week in September, trends are already making noise before models hit the runway.

Design insiders and stylists are pointing to fringe detailing on skirts, coats, bags, and sleeves as a standout element expected to shape the Spring/Summer 2026 collections. Long associated with bohemian flair and retro glam, fringe is being reimagined this season as both refined and rebellious.

“Fringe is no longer just about festival aesthetics,” said Amaka Eze, a fashion editor at Mode Lineage. “We’re seeing designers approach it more sculpturally, layering it on tailored garments or using it to disrupt minimal shapes.”

Early lookbook releases and showroom previews hint at dramatic fringe accents from both established names and rising talents. At least five designers on the official NYFW schedule have teased fringe-heavy silhouettes in their invites/digital drops, signalling a deliberate shift toward tactile texture and motion.

Fringe's predicted dominance aligns with a wider desire for expressive fashion in a post-minimalist market. “People want clothing that moves with them, that has personality,” said Leila Jones, a buyer for an independent boutique in SoHo. “Fringe delivers drama without trying too hard.”

If the forecasts are right, this is a material language. Think long fringe on column dresses, micro-fringe on cropped jackets, and leather fringe woven into daywear.

A Full-Circle Moment

In many ways, fringe is a fitting metaphor for this nostalgic resurgence. Back in the 2008–2015 era, fringe was everywhere, from suede jackets worn by indie sleaze icons to asymmetrical hems that echoed Tumblr’s love for theatrical silhouettes. It carried the same sense of movement and rebellion now bubbling back to the surface of today’s trend cycle.

The return of fringe also complements the broader reemergence of fashion signatures from that time: American Apparel-inspired bodysuits, micro-mini skirts, gladiator sandals, oversized knits, and the once-maligned but now revitalised boho aesthetic.

“People are returning to the era of ‘personal style’ over trend-chasing,” said Leila Jones, a buyer at a boutique in SoHo. “They’re styling intentionally, clashing elements sporty, romantic, edgy, and the fringe fits beautifully into that chaos.”

Other Signals From the Era Resurfacing

The forecast for NYFW also includes a handful of throwback-aligned trends:

• Sportcore Essentials: A high-fashion update of the 2010s fitness obsession. Expect sleek windbreakers, boxing sneakers, and mesh.
• Sheer Drama: Think Tumblr-era romance layered over new technical cuts, gossamer pieces paired with hardware and boots.
• DIY Utility: Visible zippers, contrast stitching, raw hems channelling the late aughts love of street customisation.
• Denim Overload: Full denim looks, from bustiers to baggy jeans, bringing back the 2013 obsession with indigo everything.

With nostalgia driving much of the fashion conversation this season, fringe feels less like a fleeting trend and more like a callback to a time when self-expression was at its peak and a preview of how Gen Z and young millennials are remixing the past with purpose.

The week will also spotlight sustainability, with a record number of designers opting for upcycled materials or zero-waste production methods, continuing the industry’s push toward circular fashion.

As NYFW begins, all eyes will be on how fringe is styled and subverted across collections. Will it be the detail that defines the season? The runways and sidewalks will soon reveal the answer.

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