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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Real Vol1. Rating: 4.9/5

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

His Come Up to Music Explained

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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How EsDeekid Leveraged His Momentum to a Record Deal

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

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

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

American Media & Black Culture Fascination

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

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

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

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

The White Saviour Allegation

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

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

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

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What’s the Take Away?

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

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

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Ten collections that signalled a shift, including creative director debuts and material-led reinvention

It comes as little surprise that Paris is in the middle of a turnover. Across the Spring/Summer menswear season staged last June,  a multitude of directional shifts were seen and an unusual number of new creative directors stepped into place, resetting houses that have long been defined by continuity. Houses played around with texture, tailoring and material experimentation to push familiar codes into unfamiliar territory, all moving with an awareness that Paris was being watched attentively.

Before the next round of shows begins on Tuesday, we’re looking back at the SS26 menswear season and the collections that cut through with clarity and intention, and felt genuinely indicative of where Paris might be headed next. Below are our ten standout collections, each represented by a single look worth revisiting and sitting with a little longer.

‍3.Paradis

3.Paradis’ SS26 circled the illusion of time, set against a desert imagined as endless and suspended. Drawing on The Little Prince, Emeric Tchatchoua leaned into surrealism and sentiment, and mixed relaxed outerwear and wide shorts with sharply cut tailoring. Asymmetry, saturated sunset tones, and playful gestures like watches cascading from a coat collapsed past, present, and future into a single frame. 

Dior Men

For his SS26 debut at Dior Men, Jonathan Anderson approached the house with both care and mischief. Instead of treating Dior’s legacy as something to preserve under glass, Anderson worked it into motion, pairing sharp silhouettes with a distinctly lighter, more playful hand.The collection nodded to Christian Dior’s foundational love of tailoring, but it was disrupted through Anderson’s lens: oversized cargo shorts, relaxed waistcoats, softened smoking jackets, layered proportions and the occasional puffer slipping into the mix. 

JAH JAH

JAH JAH’s SS26 debut at Paris Fashion Week extended the brand’s Rastafarian and Pan-African ethos into fashion with subtle conviction. The label is led by self-taught designer Daquisiline Gomis and continues its evolution from Afro-vegan cultural space to fashion house, using dress as memory and movement. Titled A Silent March, the collection treated clothing as cultural signal: West African tailoring reworked into sculptural suits, Jamaican crochet, flowing silhouettes and dense textures combining into looks that felt ceremonial and defiant.

‍AWGE 

AWGE’s SS26 outing landed in Paris as a knowing exercise in disorder. Titled Obligatory Clothing, A$AP Rocky turned the runway into an American courtroom, complete with metal detectors, using the setting to interrogate how uniforms and dress codes police identity. Streetwear collided with suiting and institutional dress: clashing plaids, graphic motifs of restraint, jeans with stacked waistlines, and tailoring disrupted by bandanas and oddball accessories. The mood was intentionally unsteady, part satire, part provocation, with “Not Guilty” stamped across select looks. 

Louis Vuitton

Pharrell’s SS26 menswear for Louis Vuitton was a soft-spoken study in modern Indian tailoring, filtered through the house’s dandy instincts. Set on a giant Snakes and Ladders board designed with Studio Mumbai, the collection leaned into lived-in elegance with relaxed suiting, fluid coats and easy shirting came washed in sun-faded earth tones. It was one of Pharrell’s most restrained offerings for the house, but intentionally so: polished, highly wearable and grounded in craft, with heritage travel codes resurfacing in refreshed bags and animal prints.

Comme des Garçons Homme Plus

Comme des Garçons Homme Plus returned last season with a proposition.Titled Not Suits, But Suits, Rei Kawakubo dismantled tailoring as we know it through their SS26 collection, inflating jackets into sculptural forms, splitting seams with zips that exposed ruffles beneath, and stacking layers until the suit became rather ritualistic. Muted greys and blacks were paired with metallic flashes and geometric interruptions, while braided wigs and oversized headwear pushed the looks into near-mythic territory.

Rick Owens 

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Rick Owens’ SS26 menswear, Temple, unfolded as a water-drenched ritual at the Palais de Tokyo, raw and unflinching. Timed with his retrospective at the Palais Galliera, the show distilled his ethos into “tough clothes for tough times,” pulling from the fetishwear and street economies of early ’90s Hollywood while balancing brutality with moments of fragile beauty.

Wales Bonner

A decade in, Wales Bonner did not overstate the moment. Their SS26 menswear show displayed a decade of craft into something sharp and assured, where precision brushed up against sportswear ease.

Maison Margiela 

During Maison Margiela’s co-ed SS26 show, models appeared with metal orthodontic staples pulling their mouths wide open, functioning as a Four Stitch mouthpiece and referencing the house’s non-logo. The presentation unfolded alongside a live orchestra of 61 young musicians, reinforcing the tension between control, exposure and performance that shaped the collection. 

IM Men

For its second Paris outing, Issey Miyake’s IM Men turned to the work of Japanese ceramic artist Shoji Kamoda, translating his restless, tactile practice into cloth. The SS26 collection was an exploration of surface, movement and form. Fabrics echoed the glazes and finishes of Kamoda’s ceramics: metallic silvers recalling Gintō pottery, scale-like patterns drawn from animalistic motifs, and tonal contrasts inspired by ash glazes.The result sat somewhere between clothing and object, where texture led the conversation and fashion behaved like a living sculpture.

Across Paris, designers seemed less interested in reinvention for its own sake and more focused on reorienting the houses they now lead. Texture replaced spectacle, and materials seemed to carry more meaning. Even the most theatrical presentations were grounded in lived reference. If SS26 showed anything, it was that Paris is no longer asking designers to shout. It is asking them to articulate. To understand what their house stands for now, and how that meaning is carried materially, structurally and emotionally. As the next season approaches, we’re excited to see how these designers carry this forward.

Nigerian fashion photography never announced itself. Archival fashion images existed because people dressed, gathered, moved through public life, and someone, somewhere, raised a camera. Fashion entered the image sideways. It was not always the subject, but it was always present. These images travelled unevenly. They were preserved selectively and disappeared often. To look back at this visual history is not to trace a neat lineage of style, but to confront a question of visibility: who was seen, who was remembered, and who never entered the frame at all.

Formal studio portraiture shaped some of the earliest fashion images in post-independence Nigeria. In the decades following independence, portrait studios across Lagos, Ibadan, Onitsha, Aba and Benin City offered something precise: proof of presence. To be photographed was to mark a moment — new clothes, new income, a changing self — within a society moving quickly. These images were not made as fashion statements, however fashion was central to them. Select clothing signalled aspiration and status. The camera rewarded those who could afford time, stillness and film, and what it captured became history by default.

Fashion imagery in Nigeria has never been neutral. It has always been shaped by access (to studios, to technology, to circulation) and by the power to be documented at all. The archive, as it exists today, reflects these conditions. It holds certain faces with clarity, and it holds gaps just as clearly.

​​By the late 1970s to 1990s, fashion photography entered print culture more decisively. Newspapers and magazines such as DRUM, West African Pilot and Rave introduced dedicated fashion pages, positioning style as part of public discourse. These images shaped taste and aspiration, and desirability, giving Nigerian fashion an editorial language. 

However, editorial visibility came with its own further exclusions. Socialites, celebrities and elite figures dominated the frame. Their bodies and wardrobes came to stand in for Nigerian fashion at large. Designers working informally, street vendors shaping trends, and everyday wearers seemed to rarely appear. When they did, their names were often omitted and contexts were left unrecorded. As this visibility narrowed, Nigerian fashion was documented selectively.

By the late 1990s and early 2000s, before social media imposed scale and permanence, much of Nigerian fashion culture circulated without consistent documentation. Style moved through repetition and proximity: parties, music videos, nightclubs, word of mouth. Being seen mattered more than being captured. Photographs existed, but they were not consistently preserved. Many were taken on personal cameras or through informal shoots by undocumented photographers, remaining in private collections or disappearing altogether over time. Much of this visual culture survives mostly through recollection: who wore what, where it was seen, why it mattered. This period reminds us that fashion does not require visibility to exist. It does, however, require visibility to enter the archive.

The Archive as Gap

When Digital archivist and image maker Daniel Obaweya, known as Nigerian Gothic, talks about Nigerian archival fashion photography, he doesn’t begin with completeness. He begins with what’s missing. “My introduction to fashion history came from a loss of image,” he says, describing an archive that revealed itself not through abundance, but through absence. 

It’s evident that to study Nigerian fashion photography is to confront what never made it into the frame, because not every look was photographed, not every photograph was kept, and not every face was considered worth preserving. What remains is uneven and shaped as much by loss as by presence.

A lot of Nigerian fashion imagery was never produced with permanence in mind. Studio portraits from the 1960s and 70s were often taken for personal reasons, not public record. “Sometimes it’s just people coming into studios to get pictures,” Obaweya explains. “It’s not like they were using it for anything. It was just for the memory of it.” These images were intimate, domestic and unassuming. 

But memory is fragile. Nigeria lacks the infrastructure that allows images to endure. “We don’t have a library culture,” Obaweya says plainly. Decades of limited public investment, inconsistent policy frameworks and the absence of functioning public archival institutions have left photographic histories exposed. Even large-scale, privately funded preservation attempts reveal how precarious the ecosystem remains. Years of planning and significant expenditure can still be destabilised by weak governance, contested authority, or the absence of protective systems around cultural work, take MOWAA as an example. 

Much of what survives today does so by chance rather than care, because someone stumbled across an image, not because it was systematically protected. This unevenness shapes whose faces remain visible. The archive, as it exists now, privileges those who had access to studios, film, storage and print circulation. Others slip out of view. “A lot of the images we’ve been able to see are because international people found these photographers and did the research,” Obaweya notes. When visibility arrives through external discovery, what does that mean for how Nigerian fashion history is framed, and who gets to decide what is worth remembering?

Yet fashion photography, for Obaweya, remains one of the clearest ways to read social history. “You can use fashion or visual culture, photography… to understand the times better,” he says. Political shifts, labour conditions, economic change — all of it appears on the body. What people wore, how they posed, and where they stood are records of lived conditions.

What remains unresolved is not only what is missing, but what that absence teaches us. Which faces were never photographed? Which images were never kept? And how do we read a history shaped as much by disappearance as by survival?

Today, images circulate faster than ever, but visibility remains concentrated. Attention gathers around the same faces, the same cities, the same visual languages. “People need to move out of Lagos,” Obaweya argues. “There’s so much landscape… so many monuments… but people are sticking to the same settings.”

The archive is still being formed. And as archival Nigerian fashion photography shows, what is recorded now will shape what can be remembered later. To move forward differently requires intention and an understanding that fashion images are not fleeting, but historical, and that keeping them is its own form of authorship.

Awards season officially opened Sunday night with the 83rd Golden Globe Awards at the Beverly Hilton in Beverly Hills, and the ceremony delivered a compelling mix of expected victories and genuine surprises that set the stage for the coming months of recognition and celebration.

Paul Thomas Anderson's One Battle After Another dominated the evening, sweeping four major categories and cementing its position as the film to beat this awards season. The revolutionary saga starring Leonardo DiCaprio claimed Best Motion Picture in the Musical or Comedy category, Best Director for Anderson, Best Screenplay, and a surprise win for Teyana Taylor in Best Supporting Actress. With nine nominations heading into the night, the film lived up to its frontrunner status while still managing to deliver unexpected moments.

The drama categories told a different story, with Hamnet taking the top prize for Best Motion Picture. The Shakespeare adaptation proved that literary prestige still carries weight with Golden Globe voters, even in a year packed with high-profile contenders. Jessie Buckley's win for Best Actress in a Drama for her portrayal in Hamnet felt thoroughly deserved, showcasing an actress at the peak of her powers delivering a searing, emotionally complex performance that elevated already strong source material.

Wagner Moura continued his remarkable journey from Brazilian television to international recognition by winning Best Actor in a Drama for The Secret Agent. The win represents not just personal achievement but a broader acknowledgment of Latin American talent breaking through in Hollywood's most prestigious spaces. Moura's performance brought depth and nuance to a challenging role, and voters clearly responded to his commitment to the character.

In the comedy categories, Rose Byrne claimed Best Actress for If I Had Legs I'd Kick You, a win that highlighted her remarkable versatility across both dramatic and comedic roles. Byrne has spent years delivering consistently excellent performances, and this recognition felt like the industry finally catching up to what audiences have known for a while. Timothée Chalamet secured Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy for Marty Supreme, adding another trophy to his growing collection and reinforcing his position as one of his generation's most celebrated performers.

The most surprising win of the night came in the Best Supporting Actress category, where Teyana Taylor topped favored nominee Ariana Grande, who had been widely expected to win for Wicked: For Good. Taylor's performance in One Battle After Another clearly resonated with voters, and her victory signals a successful transition from music to serious acting. It's the kind of upset that makes awards shows worth watching, a genuine surprise that rewards talent over expectations.

Television awards followed patterns that honored both prestige storytelling and solid craftsmanship. Adolescence swept all four limited series categories it was nominated for, continuing its dominant run from last year's Emmy Awards. The series claimed Best Limited Series alongside acting wins for Owen Cooper, Erin Doherty, and Stephen Graham. The clean sweep suggests voters recognized not just individual excellence but a cohesive, well-executed vision across the entire production.

The Pitt, HBO's hospital procedural, matched its September Emmy success by winning Best Drama Series and Best Drama Series Actor for Noah Wyle. Michelle Williams won Best Actress in a Limited Series for Dying for Sex, though she couldn't attend the ceremony as she was performing in Anna Christie at St. Ann's Warehouse in Brooklyn. 

In animation, KPop Demon Hunters claimed Best Animated Film and Best Original Song for Golden, performed by the group Huntrix. The ceremony introduced a new category this year: Best Podcast. Amy Poehler's Good Hang with Amy Poehler won the inaugural award. The addition of podcasts to the Golden Globes reflects the medium's massive cultural impact and its evolution from niche format to mainstream entertainment. Whether this category becomes a permanent fixture or feels like a dated decision in hindsight remains to be seen, but for now it represents the Globes' attempt to stay relevant as media consumption patterns shift.

However, the ceremony made one puzzling decision that drew immediate criticism: the award for Best Original Score was cut from the broadcast due to time constraints and announced online instead. Film composers and music fans rightfully questioned why a new podcast category earned airtime while one of cinema's essential crafts was relegated to a press release. The decision undermined the Globes' claims of honoring artistic achievement and suggested that novelty and relevance-chasing sometimes take precedence over respecting established art forms.

The two Lifetime Achievement Awards, the Cecil B. DeMille Award for Helen Mirren and the Carol Burnett Award for Sarah Jessica Parker were presented during a separate hour-long primetime special called ‘Golden Eve’ that aired two days before the main ceremony on January 8. While both honorees absolutely deserve recognition for their extraordinary careers, the separate ceremony felt like a missed opportunity to integrate these moments of reflection and celebration into the main show, where they might have provided emotional depth and historical context to balance the evening's more commercial elements.

For the second consecutive year, comedian Nikki Glaser hosted the ceremony with the perfect balance of sharp wit and genuine warmth. Her opening monologue set the tone immediately, joking that she'd been ‘pieced together by an unlicensed European surgeon’ like Frankenstein before launching into expertly crafted roasts of everyone from George Clooney to Leonardo DiCaprio. 

The Golden Globes favored films and performances that combined artistic ambition with accessibility. Paul Thomas Anderson's One Battle After Another is challenging cinema, but it's also entertaining and visually stunning. Hamnet is a literary adaptation, but it's emotionally engaging rather than stuffily academic. The wins suggest voters can distinguish between work that's merely prestigious and work that's genuinely excellent.

In television, the awards recognized both innovation and execution. Adolescence pushed boundaries in how limited series can explore complex themes and character development. The Pitt didn't reinvent anything but demonstrated that traditional formats still work when done with care and intelligence. The variety of winning shows suggests a healthy television landscape where different approaches to storytelling can all find audiences and critical recognition.

The 83rd Golden Globes succeeded as awards shows should: by celebrating excellent work, delivering some surprises, and providing a few hours of entertaining television. Paul Thomas Anderson's dominance with One Battle After Another establishes clear frontrunners heading into the rest of awards season. Hamnet's drama win suggests literary adaptations can still compete in a landscape dominated by franchises and IP. The television awards acknowledged both prestigious limited series and solid ongoing dramas, showing range in what voters consider worthy of recognition.

As awards season continues toward the Oscars, the Golden Globes have done their job establishing narratives, creating momentum for certain films and performances, and giving audiences a first look at who might be taking home the industry's most prestigious prizes in a few months. Whether the Globes' choices will align with other ceremonies remains to be seen, but for one night in Beverly Hills, the 83rd Golden Globe Awards celebrated cinema and television with style, humor, and genuine appreciation for the craft of storytelling

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

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

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

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

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

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

all pictures credit @acwbrocklesby

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When this CYK movement started a lot of people didn't know what to think, with his unique mohawk and punk rock style, names like ‘Alte Balotelli’ swirled around. Some may have assumed that this was just a gimmick to help them stand out within the never ending stream of new content the internet throws at us, they would have been wrong. The ball started rolling when he ended up on Santi’s stream in February announcing his arrival, from then on he's gone from strength to strength, each release building on the last, showing how dedicated he is to his craft.

Fast forward to December and we are witnessing an afrobeats resurgence before our very eyes. To close out an admirable year Luwamp4 leaves us with ‘CYK baddie’ a culmination of all the hard work he's put in this year. Luwa might have outdone himself here, when I first heard the snippet I was mesmerised, I’d return to the reel everytime liked my comment just to have an excuse to hear it one more time. From the infectious melody, to the exuberant beat you have no choice BUT to move, and to top it all off he’s recruited Jeleel! To add some flava. I admit I was a bit skeptical seeing him on the track, but after a few listens I think he handled his own very nicely, taking the song to a 10/10.

The CYK sound is so nostalgic of the 2010s, heavy autotune with bars in every verse, but if you listen closely the melodies themselves are out of this world; reminiscent of the likes of Naeto C and Wizkid in his early days, nothing but talent and ambition. The term CYK, meaning cyber youth kin, is one people of our generation can relate to. The feeling of growing up on the internet, scrolling on mp3juices,1604ent, and mixtapemonkey.com looking for the next album to pirate, watching vines and youtube laughing hysterically. 

It’s clear they are carrying the torch in their own unique way. S1ordie is an artist worth mentioning, his last EP ‘PROJECT CYK’ is one that perfectly captures the experience of listening to his music, heavy beats, old melodies reminiscent of old nollywood, and new age rap songs that are evidence of his identity as a CYK. What they're doing is undeniably important for the music scene, because as much as it doesn't fit into what the conventional definition of what afrobeats is currently, it's very much the present and future of the genre in the most experimental and fun way. It would be worth paying attention to the moment we are in, it's like watching afrobeats be reborn.

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Sidenote: can someone let S1ordie know we're still waiting on “EGO’’? 

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The Sundance Film Festival unveiled a broad, starry lineup a few weeks ago. Among nearly 100 feature films, three projects from Africa stood out – LADY by Olive Nwosu (Nigeria), Kikuyu Land by Bea Wangondu (Kenya), and Troublemaker by Antoine Fuqua (credited as a South Africa, U.S., U.K. co-production). These films arrive at Sundance as very different works, but together they signal how African cinema now moves through both festival circuits and global conversation. I’ll focus this piece on those three titles and describe each film, who made it, where it sits in contemporary African filmmaking, and why its presence at Sundance matters to filmmakers and audiences on the continent and beyond.

LADY - writer/director Olive Nwosu (Nigeria)
Lady follows a young female cab driver in Lagos who meets a group of sex workers. Their sisterhood draws her into danger and joy, pushing her toward transformation. The film is listed in the World Cinema Dramatic Competition and is credited to Olive Nwosu as writer and director with producers Alex Polunin, John Giwa-Amu, and Stella Nwimo. The Sundance program page lists the film and credits.

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Kikuyu Land - directors Bea Wangondu and Andrew H. Brown (Kenya/USA)
Kikuyu Land is a world premiere selection in the World Cinematic Documentary Competition. It follows a Nairobi journalist who investigates a land conflict involving local government and a multinational company, a story that digs into questions of power, memory, and community journalism. Sundance has introduced the film’s filmmakers in Meet the Artist events and in social posts by industry outlets.

Troublemaker - director Antoine Faqua (South Africa, US, UK)
Troublemaker is a documentary feature that leverages archival materials and interviews to examine a major moment in South African history and its long arc into the present. The film is presented as a co-production with South African partners and is positioned among the festival’s higher-profile documentary premieres. It brings an international director’s gaze to a South African subject, and Sundance lists it in the 2026 lineup.

Sundance remains the most visible American launchpad for independent cinema. A World Cinema slot increases a film's international exposure, invites critical attention, and often opens distribution channels that would otherwise be very hard to access. For African filmmakers, that visibility can mean festival bookings, buyers, and press that place a film on a global map. The Sundance announcement notes that the 2026 festival includes 90 feature films representing 28 countries and a high number of world premieres, demonstrating its international reach. For LADY, a narrative that is rooted in Lagos, Sundance gives a global audience a view of what it means to live in Nigeria beyond Nollywood conventions. The film's inclusion in WCDC frames it as a story with both local specificity and universal stakes. For Kikuyu Land, a documentary on land and power, Sundance’s documentary spotlight can accelerate conversations about extractive practices and press freedom across Africa. Troublemaker arrives with the potential to connect South African history to a global audience.

There are three short observations that I notice emerge from this lineup. First, the story range is widening. The films are not small variations on a single contemporary theme. They tackle labor and solidarity in Lagos, investigative journalism in Kenya, and historical reckoning in South Africa. Shows that Sundance slate reflects a growing appetite for African stories that are politically engaged and formally confident. Second is that co-production models matter. Both Kikuyu Land and Troublemaker show us how partnerships across countries and funding bodies can position African stories for major festivals. There’s no doubt that co-production brings resources and distribution pathways, but it also raises questions about editorial control and whose perspective leads the narrative. And for my third observation, the festival circuit is indeed a doorway to new audiences and deals because Sundance programming connects these films to potential buyers, streaming programmers, and press coverage. That pipeline has a direct effect on whether a film reaches cinemas, festivals, and streaming services worldwide.

When Sundance accepts African films, it does more than program titles. It amplifies questions about representation, funding, and film culture. Festivals can shift which stories are considered universal rather than regional. For filmmakers, that can mean more funding, stronger export opportunities, and access to global collaborators. For audiences, it means wider access to stories that refuse simplistic labels. Sundance’s choice to include these films points to a future where African filmmakers use global stages to set their own terms. Sundance begins January 22nd, 2026. These films will have their first public moment on an international stage. These three films do different things. LADY looks inward at the city and its intimate economies. Kikuyu Land looks outward at structures of power. Troublemaker looks back at history with new archival tools. But together they suggest a practical truth, that African cinema is not a single story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All image credits Elisa Hill, @flashedbyelisa

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For this edition of Through My Lens, we turn our focus to Jonathan, widely known as SM, a Toronto based concert, nightclub, and event photographer whose work lives in motion. Drawn to fas -paced environments where light shifts by the second, Jonathan documents nightlife as a living, breathing culture. His images are not just about who was there, but how it felt to be there, the pulse of the crowd, the intimacy of shared joy, and the fleeting moments that define the night. Through his lens, music becomes memory, and celebration becomes story.

Can you introduce yourself and tell us a little about who you are as a photographer?
My name is Jonathan aka SM, and I’m a concert nightclub and event photographer in Toronto. I specialize in capturing the energy atmosphere, and real moments that happen in fast-paced environments. Whether it’s a packed club a live performance, or a special event, I focus on freezing the emotion, the lighting, and the vibe in a way that feels authentic.
I love working in environments where things can change in a split second it pushes me to be creative, adaptable, and always ready to catch the shot that tells the story.

What emotions themes or stories do you try to capture through photography?
I try to capture excitement and joy. The world is already hard enough, and people come to clubs and parties to unwind and escape. Seeing people genuinely happy, letting loose, and having fun is what makes powerful photos. I focus on those moments because they reflect why these spaces matter.

How does your photography connect to conversations movements or inspire change?
Since I photograph a lot of Afrobeats and Caribbean events, my work helps change perceptions around these cultures. By capturing the energy in these spaces, I show that these genres aren’t only enjoyed by people from those cultures, but by everyone. We see this clearly at concerts.  when artists like Vybz Kartel or Davido came to Toronto, the diversity in the audience was undeniable. That’s what I aim to capture through my photos shared energy, cultural crossover, and how music brings people together.

What’s something you want people to understand about you beyond the lens or beyond photography?
I want people to understand that just as much as I love capturing people having fun I also love to have fun I’m not getting any younger so I try to spend my days doing fun things like volunteering, going to networking events, festivals and all that stuff. When I’m not doing that I try to work on my editing to get better and also create content on tiktok.

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

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

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

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

The night opened with Lipe’s Gqom-dominated set, peaked with Coldsound’s crowd-moving afrobeats remixes, and closed with Baby’s energetic spins on old-school, border-breaking hits. The drinks flowed, the mood soared, and the people swayed. But Nocturna Rave 2.0 was more than a night of dancing. It was the culmination of weeks of deliberate audience selection, music curation, and independent experiential production.

That work began months earlier, in September, when the Nocturna team decided that education and awareness would shape the buildup to the rave. With electronic dance music still unfamiliar to many in Calabar, and raves often conflated with mainstream club nights, the focus was to position the audience within the culture itself. Weekly Spotify jam sessions, social media content centered on raving, and a YouTube channel hosting unedited DJ sets gradually introduced city residents to the sound, ethos, and spirit of electronic music.

That groundwork began to transform Nocturna’s identity from an event into a dynamic community. As the campaign progressed, it became clear that people wanted to be part of Nocturna, not just attend it. Some offered support as private sponsors; others stepped in as graphic designers, promoters, or assistants. For many creatives, Nocturna became a channel through which they could contribute and be visible. At the first rave, there had been only one EDM DJ in Calabar but by November, that number had grown to three. DJ Venomm, Lipe, and Baby held the scene together at the pre-event Pop Up, marking a subtle but significant expansion of the local electronic music ecosystem.

While the community was taking shape on the ground, much of the work behind Nocturna Rave 2.0 was unfolding remotely. Most decisions were made from Lagos, and the bulk of the marketing was digital. In December, Kufreabasi Eyo returned to Calabar to join ground operations. The work became more tactile and urgent—creating video content, conducting sound, electricity, and lighting audits for the largely abandoned but fitting venue, Calabar Wakkis, and finally meeting in person the people she had only engaged with virtually. 

It was also the point at which organizational panic peaked. The team navigated internal tensions, including strategy disagreements, tight budgets, and ideas presented with little follow-through. They also dealt with external detractors that threatened the project’s success. Still, the mission remained the same.

When the night finally arrived, the effort was visible. Even with three power cuts, Nocturna Rave 2.0 was electric. Pasta (Motion) and Stirfry joined from Abuja, Raey and Nacci traveled in from Uyo, and Coldsound returned from Lagos to reconnect with the community he had helped build. The party stretched until dawn and someone even fell asleep on the stairs. Nocturna Rave had achieved its aim. It had brought a bold, immersive experience to the Calabar nightlife scene.

Photo credit: kmiiekpeyong

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Clothes in African cities have long lived extended, social lives. They move through households and communities as objects shaped by memory, identity and use. Our garments accumulate memory through wear; altered as bodies change, remade depending on the occasion, passed between hands, worn and re-worn, because they matter. Within these systems, “slow” is not an imported ethical stance but an indigenous logic embedded in everyday practice, not just articulated as ideology.

Yet this history of care does not exempt African fashion systems from scrutiny. Longevity has always coexisted with excess, and today’s scale demands reevaluation. The same cities that hold deep cultures of reuse now sit at the centre of a growing textile crisis, shaped by the influx of secondhand clothing, population growth and global overproduction. 

In Lagos, for instance, this tension is impossible to ignore. Project Irapada, a 2025 research initiative led by Style House Files, mapped the volumes, flows, and circular pathways of textile waste across Lagos State. Their study traced movement from markets and garment production clusters to Olusosun landfill, in collaboration with the Lagos Waste Management Authority. Lagos generates an estimated 21,684 tonnes of textile waste every month, amounting to roughly 260,000 tonnes annually. For context, a single metric tonne is roughly the weight of a small car. 

These findings are sobering. At this scale, textile waste moves through the city as a constant, accumulating presence. While systems of repair and reuse remain active, the data shows they are increasingly strained by scale, and tailors, markets and secondhand traders are being pushed well beyond their limits, absorbing volumes never designed for circulation or care.

Similar pressures are surfacing across the continent. In Accra, Ghana, the Kantamanto market absorbs vast quantities of secondhand clothing from the Global North, sorting, reselling, and discarding what cannot be used, with overflow spilling into landfills and waterways. In Nairobi, Kenya, textiles now make up a growing share of landfill waste, with figures from the National Environment Management Authority showing fabric waste at Dandora nearly tripling over the past five years. In South Africa, fast fashion consumption and limited textile recycling infrastructure have intensified landfill dependency, despite a long history of thrift, alteration and reuse. Across North, East, West and Southern Africa, long-standing systems of care are being asked to carry the weight of global overproduction.

The question, then, is no longer whether sustainability sits at the core of African fashion. That much is evident. The more urgent inquiry asks who is extending this logic further in the present, materially and structurally, beyond rhetoric.

In 2025, a growing number of African designers responded with substance. Through unconventional materials, localized supply chains, and experimental approaches to circularity, they began to outline what the next stage of African fashion sustainability could look like in practice.

‍Material as Method: Brands Redefining the Next Stage

Some of the most compelling work of 2025 approached different ways of thinking. One clear example was Rituals of Labour, a collaboration between This Is Us NG and Iamisigo. Their 2025 collection centred the act of making itself, drawing attention to the work usually folded into the background of fashion. The process was left visible. Hands, materials, and methods were treated as part of the garment rather than something to smooth over. In Rituals of Labour, work is framed as cultural and communal rather than purely productive, and this sensibility runs through the collection. The pieces were constructed from patchworked textiles in indigo, turmeric, rust and plaid. Fabrics were hand-dyed, cut, and assembled into square and elongated panels, allowing the structure of the garment to remain legible. You could see how one section met another, how the clothes held themselves together.

In Senegal, SOKOLATA, led by Sikoti Mbaitjongue, demonstrated a different but equally rigorous approach through their minimalist designs. For its 2025 IMOBROWN collection, marking the brand’s third year, everything began with organic Senegalese cotton. Handwoven yarns were dyed by hand, with every stage of production, from sourcing and weaving to dyeing and finishing, kept within regional networks. Their work sat in the insistence of framing sustainability as material control and economic self-determination, staying close to source, labour and material.

Meanwhile in Kenya, Maisha By Nisria offered one of the clearest articulations of zero-waste design in practice through upcycling. Based in Gilgil, the studio works exclusively with discarded textiles pulled from flea markets, wholesalers and landfills. Rather than treating waste as a constraint, Maisha By Nisria treats it as a starting point, producing jackets, skirts, and layered outfits that reject virgin fabric entirely. Nothing feels scarce in their outcome, even though nothing new was introduced, and circularity is embedded at the foundation of their designs, rather than just retrofitted after the fact.

Another personal favorite was at Lagos Fashion Week 2025, where Nigerian label Eki Kere showcased their “Usóró Ndō" collection, inspired by Annang traditional marriage. Working with raffia, cardboard, linen, and plant dyes drawn from indigo and kola nut, founder Abasiekeme Ukanireh rooted the work in substances that already exist in everyday life. As always, Eki Kere points toward a fashion practice grounded in materials that can return to the earth, while holding conceptual clarity, cultural specificity and visual intention.

‍A New Material Grammar

Across these practices, a shared material sensibility comes into view. Designers are working with what is already around them, treating waste, local fibres and byproducts as points of departure rather than compromise. Upcycling becomes recomposition. Synthetic excess is pulled back into legible textile languages. Biodegradable materials are used with an awareness of how garments begin, move through use, and eventually leave circulation. Production stays close, held by regional networks of sourcing, making and finishing.

At every scale, from clothing to accessories, materials are allowed to keep their histories intact. Value is shaped through process, use and continuity, not novelty or external benchmarks. What feels newly visible in 2025 is not sustainability itself, but the pressure placed on long-standing systems of care, repair and material knowledge.

These designer-led responses, however, operate within a much larger landscape of excess. While materially rigorous and conceptually grounded, they address only a fraction of the ongoing volume moving through African cities. Slow fashion and experimental material practices function less as solutions proportionate to the crisis, and more as early interventions or signals of how fashion might be restructured.

The work ahead is not to rediscover slow fashion. It is to build the conditions that allow these practices to hold under volume, speed and demand. That scale will not come from designers alone, but from the infrastructures around them: city-level textile recovery systems, policy incentives that reward reuse, producer responsibility frameworks, and investment in industrial repair and recycling. It will require partnerships that extend beyond studios, linking designers to markets, waste authorities and material processors.

Slow has always been here. The work now is ensuring it can survive the volume of the present.

Imran Claud-Ennin has built one of Nigeria's most important cultural archives by staying behind the lens. Since 2017, Days & Nites has been quietly documenting the people, moments, and movements shaping African creative culture, not from a distance, but from the floor, in the rooms where it's actually happening. While most platforms chase the spotlight, Days & Nites chases the story. Through projects like Creative CTRL and the critically acclaimed Mai Atafo SS24 documentary, Imran and his team have made it their mission to celebrate the unsung: the art directors, the producers, the stylists, the people whose names you might not know but whose work you definitely recognize.

It's a philosophy that extends to Imran himself. Despite running a media house that sets the standard for premium cultural documentation, he maintains a deliberately modest personal profile. "The work is more important than the person," he tells me early in our conversation, and it's a principle that guides everything Days & Nites does. We sat down to talk about evolution, intentionality, and what it really takes to tell honest stories in Nigeria's creative economy.

Days & Nites has been documenting African creative culture since 2017. What was the specific moment or gap you saw that made you think, 'This needs to exist'?
I was away at school and then I just came back. I started going out and seeing all these incredible things happening, but I felt like people who weren't in town wouldn't see it. There wasn't much of a record, so nobody would know. So I took it upon myself to actually go to these events, document them, highlight them, and celebrate them all at the same time.

How has Days & Nites evolved from 2017 to now? What can you do today that you couldn't do three years ago?
You've pretty much just said it, we evolved. What we were doing when we started, was just documenting things as we went. We weren't really producing content ourselves. Now we're actually learning how to produce these things, delivering a better final product; better shows, formats, and campaigns. That's where we are now. We started from just being where it's happening, documenting that, and then deploying it. What we essentially want to do is be able to tell better stories and create better shows, content, products, and experiences.

There's a difference between documenting culture and shaping it. Where does Days & Nites sit on that spectrum?
To be very honest, I think we're in the middle of that because you want to be able to document and also be on the floor telling stories from that perspective. With one of the shows you mentioned, Creative CTRL, we're taking the brands that you actually know and then featuring the people behind them who aren't really known. That, in itself, helps tell a different story to people who are up and coming, who want to be in possibly similar roles, or people who want to find out a bit more about how someone went about getting to where they are right now.

How do you decide what stories deserve to be told?
I wish it was so straightforward, but it's actually about looking at these different brands and figuring out: "Okay, who are these people behind these things, and how do we actually bring them to light and celebrate them?" Because as you know, in the creative world, even in music, the only people that people tend to see are the frontrunners, which are the artists, but they don't know that there's a whole team behind them. The same thing goes for music videos, whether it's the director, stylist, creative director, producer, or photographer. All these people have been featured on Creative CTRL just to help point that out. So it's really just trying to find that balance. And yeah, I wish it was so straightforward, but it's not, it's actually work.

For example, many people know Mainland Block Party, but fewer knew Tobi Mohamed runs the show and assists with OurHomeComing, until recently. Those are the kinds of stories we seek out. And it's funny because at the end of the day, these people aren't normally front and center. So it also takes a bit of alignment to get them on the show. Some of them are shy of the limelight, but it's about celebrating these people.

Should creatives step out more? Should we encourage them to build more social presence?
It's a bit of both, in the sense that I think as long as you're actually doing the work and you don't need   to be seen. If you want to self-document, you can do that. But it's more important to do the work than to be seen for the work, I believe. Do you know who created the street lamp? Do you know who created the first plane? The first car? Those things, exactly. You might be able to answer, but a lot of people won't know. The idea is that you do it so well that, way down the line, you're actually acknowledged for it. But as you're doing the work, there's no problem in documenting and stepping forward, it's fine. Everyone is different. But more than anything, the most important thing is actually doing the work and also trying to constantly evolve. You have to get better and better, continuously improving.

You studied Business & Management at Sussex. How much does that background influence how you run a creative media house?
It's definitely helped quite a bit because at the end of the day, whatever we call it, creative work still needs funding to function. It's not something that people tend to run toward, but it's something you have to deal with. If you're not even good at it, it's at least something you should invest in. Try to upgrade that part of yourself so that you're able to enjoy the work that you actually want to do. It goes hand in hand. There's the creative economy, there's the music business, there's the movie business. It's all business, and that part, the business, should come first.

For someone producing culture at this level, you maintain a relatively low personal profile online. Is that intentional?
Yes. It goes back to the philosophy that the work matters more. I recently met someone whose platform I like; I didn’t realize it was her until we talked on WhatsApp and I saw her display picture.That way, I'm able to enjoy and appreciate the work for what it is.That said, in today’s world you sometimes do need to step out a bit. I’m intentional about keeping my personal profile modest. I just want to do the work.

How do you balance being visible enough to build the brand while keeping the focus on the work and the artists?
That’s the constant challenge. It comes down to positioning and relationships, being in the right rooms at the right time and nurturing the right relationships.

Let's talk about the Mai Atafo SS24 fashion show documentation, which was historic. What made that project particularly significant, and what was your creative approach as Executive Producer?
With Mai Atafo, there isn’t a mountain of press on him personally, which gave us an open canvas. He had the show; we set out to document the journey to execution. You know where it ends, but you can’t predict the journey. So we stayed flexible and open, planned around key moments, and captured honest, meaningful scenes. Patience and consistency were key to telling a story true to him.

Who or what has shaped your eye as a creative director? Are there filmmakers, documentarians, or movements you return to?
To be honest, I would say the first person who shaped my eye was my brother. He is an artist by the name of Yasser Claud-Ennin. I would also say different things I grew up with and enjoyed. From cartoons to different series, all those kind of things I liked. Stuff like Hey Arnold!, Recess, Toy Story. Then HBO shows like The Sopranos and The Wire. All those things helped. And then the music, also friends, and my dad. I'm from Taraba, Kogi State, and Ghana. I just see myself as somebody who's able to bring out what the canvas already holds. That's the truth.

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Outside of your own work at Days & Nites, what recent African creative projects have excited you?
WAF's work with the skate community, especially the WAF Skatepark at Freedom Park, Lagos is fantastic; it proves anything is possible.
Films: My Father's Shadow, and Eyimofe (This Is My Desire) by the Esiri brothers.  In art: Kemi Balogun, Ogunsanya. I also like how Slawn is pushing the boundaries, Nifemi Bello, and Oriki. For music: I think Boj is about to drop something at the end of the year. Tems is always good. Wande Coal, most definitely. Listening to Show Dem Camp as well.
There's also a book by Alayo Akinkugbe, Reframing Blackness: What's Black about 'History of Art'?

Days & Nites has become a reference point for a certain kind of premium cultural documentation. Do you feel a responsibility that comes with that?
Do I feel it? Yes. But at the same time, it's on the same principle of trying to continuously improve. Doing that, being truthful in storytelling, and maintaining a high standard of work. We can only try and raise the bar. As it should be, I think it's embedded in our ethos.

Ten years from now, when someone looks at Days & Nites' archive, what do you hope that they see?
I hope they feel that anything is possible. It helps spark the idea that you can, it is possible. There is no limit. There is no shackle that is holding you back from being able to achieve greatness and impact. And that it’s possible from Nigeria, to our own standards.

What would you say makes a good collaboration?
Alignment. And clear values on both sides.

What are you building toward in the next 12 months? Any projects or collaborations you can tease?
We’re deploying the rest of this Creative CTRL season. There’s a mini-series, Backstage, following a DJ, an artist and a nightlife operator. We have two documentaries in development: one from Palm Wine and one from Mainland Block Fest. And we’re exploring a Creative CTRL Academy for quarterly mentorship cohorts, not to speak of the series and short films coming up. But as I said, depending on how things go, we'll see what we can keep.

Eight years in and Days & Nites has become more than a documentation platform, it's become proof of concept. Proof that you can build something meaningful by focusing on the work. Proof that our stories deserve to be told with patience, intention, and care. Proof that anything is possible when you're willing to do the actual work.
As our conversation winds down, I'm reminded of something Imran said earlier about the people behind the work, the ones who aren't normally front and center. In a way, he's talking about himself too. But like the creatives he celebrates, the work speaks for itself. And what it's saying is worth listening to.

Before we wrapped, I asked Imran a few rapid fire questions, the kind that don't require too much thinking, just honest answers. Here's what came up.

Rapid Fire

Three creatives everyone should be watching right now.
Yinka Ilori, Dennis Osadebe, and Deborah Segun.

Best piece of advice you've ever received.
One step at a time. Keep moving forward.

What's something on your mind lately that has nothing to do with work?
Butterflies, literally. I saw a black and white one yesterday. Beautiful, it had a hint of green on it. Before that, I had seen a brown one.

If you could snap your fingers and change one thing about Nigeria’s film/media industry?
Push the boundaries of storytelling. Our stories are already elaborate; the opportunity is in how we tell them. Mainstream projects often chase quick turnover; artsier work doesn’t always make more money. We should still try regardless.

Something you believed about this industry in 2017 that you don't believe anymore?
That it's all Kumbaya, pure teamwork. It was supposed to be.

If you weren't running Days & Nites, what would you be doing
I would still be creating. Doesn't matter what, I'd be doing something that involves creating an idea and allowing it to come to fruition.

Ady Suleiman is a 33-year-old British singer-songwriter of Zanzibari descent who seemed to have the brightest future ahead following his debut album ‘Memories.’ However, what was expected to be a steady rise to stardom instead became years of sonic absence. Almost a decade after his first release, Ady returns with his highly anticipated sophomore album ‘Chasing,’ offering an entirely new perspective on the world. This can all be traced back to a trip of a lifetime, namely returning to his roots in Zanzibar and reconnecting with the motherland.

We sat down with Ady to discuss the period of darkness he experienced, and how reconnecting with his family in both Kenya and Zanzibar helped him emerge from turmoil and ultimately inspired his new project.

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Can you introduce yourself to our audience?

Yes, I’m Ady Suleiman, a singer-songwriter who grew up in Nottingham, UK. I live in London now and I’ve got roots in Zanzibar (From my dad’s side).

Nottingham, interesting. Take us back to your childhood; how would you best describe your upbringing?

It was a really small town on the outskirts of Nottingham. I was a happy child to be fair; I used to skateboard a lot with my friends and I think it was great until you were a teenager around 16. There was always this feeling of getting out of the town, you know when you get to a certain age. Speaking for myself, it is not somewhere I saw myself staying. I knew when I got 18 years old or old enough to leave home, I wanted to go live in a city.   

I read that your father was a DJ. Out of curiosity, which artists and sounds were played in your household growing up?

My parents have always been great music lovers. I would say on my dad's side, I really got a lot of Bob Marley. He was a cornerstone for my dad. Due to the fact he was a DJ, he had a massive CD collection, and so any type of music I wanted to listen to, I would go get it from my dad. Every CD of Bob Marley I had at my disposal.

On my mom’s side, she’s British so she grew up listening to the Kinks, Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones, etc… My earliest memories of current music was Alicia Keys, I remember being super fond of her, Eminem, OutKast and 50 Cent. When I really got into music, it was Jimi Hendrix for me because I really wanted to play the guitar. When I discovered there was other music outside of my parents’ collection and the radio, it blew my mind a little bit. That is when I went into my own journey of Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, B.B. King, etc…

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Speaking of earliest memories, I remember being 15 years old, living with my father in Peckham, when the ‘So Lost’ music video came on TV. ‘State of Mind’ was a real bop for me back in 2015! That was my introduction to you. At what point did pursuing music begin to feel tangible for you?

No way! That’s awesome by the way! There were two switches; one was Amy Whinehouse. Seeing her first album being Jazz, Hip-Hop and soul blended together and she had the kind of success that she did, that made me think; “ok cool, you can make the music you actually want to make and still be commercially successful.” Before Amy, I thought you had to ‘sellout.’ I didn’t truly believe it was possible for me until I went to study music in Liverpool.

I think my second year of university, I really took it upon myself; “Now it’s really a good time to try your hardest to make a career out of it.” After this year, I knew I wasn’t going to get a job with a music degree. That’s when I started to do my first gigs as Ady Suleiman. Songs like ‘State of Mind’ were actually the first songs I ever wrote. When I first put out demos, I really got good responses. It got a lot of views for someone who was still unknown. Through that, the industry got a hold of me in a sense that I got messages from publishers, record labels and that solidified my confidence and belief within myself.

It’s crazy to hear that ‘State of Mind’ was one of your first songs ever recorded. Let’s rewind in time; it’s 2018, you were signed to Sony prior, you’re rubbing shoulders with the likes of Labrinth and you just released your debut album ‘Memories,’ where was your mindset during that period?

When it was out, I felt relieved because keeping it a buck, I wanted this record out before. I would have liked it to be released in 2015 or 2016. I think I signed my first deal in 2014 and so, I knew it was going to take a couple of years to produce the songs. Just because I didn’t feel like I got a hundred percent right with Sony; they were great, we just had different ideas on how to skin the cat, so to speak. I left the label which delayed the project coming out and I had to find new partners.

Your debut is a big deal. Some of my favourite records of artists’ debut albums are like ‘The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill,’ ‘Brown Sugar,’ ‘Frank’ . The nerves of knowing that this is my debut, I wanted to get it right.

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Similarly to all of the greats (You mentioned Lauryn Hill and D’Angelo), there’s a saying; “when we need our heroes most, they disappear.” Suddenly, there’s almost a decade of sonic absence. You released a few EPs here and there but there’s a noticeable shift. What happened?

Oh man, I wish I had a miseducation and then, I could disappear forever [laugh]. To be honest, it was a creative decision. I find it quite difficult to create and be ‘on.’ We live in a world where you have to share so much of your creative process and behind the scenes. There’s a huge demand to put out music quickly. I write the songs all myself, I am involved in the production and so, my music always takes some time. I always preferred making music away from noise.

I have gigged my debut record since the beginning of my career. I remember feeling like I brought myself up into a space I had the resources to go away and create. I wanted to disappear, I wanted to be offline for like 2 years, not do gigs and tap back into who I am as an artist and really do something special. Then, come back with a new set, new music, yeah that was my plan.

Little did I know that we would get on lockdown. The pandemic took 2 years of everyone’s lives. I work with live instruments and so, that had an impact on me. To be completely honest, it also has an effect on my mental state. What I didn’t anticipate missing was the gigs. When you get on tour, you have such live feedback from your audience and supporters, and it gives you a lift and the confidence to keep doing what you’re doing. In those 2 years, I didn’t have that. The longer it went on and the less interaction I had with my audience, the self-doubt grew. It amplified my fears.

Keeping it a buck, I also went through financial troubles because I’m independent and how can I fund my studio sessions if I’m not on tour or doing any gigs? You know, the pandemic wasn't great for a lot of musicians. I wasn’t making much in music so I had to find work. Something that was supposed to be an intentional 2-year break dragged on for 4 or 5 years. It was really tough.

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I really appreciate your honesty and you being vulnerable. On a lighter note, let’s talk about the trip that played a foundation in this new project ‘Chasing’ and ultimately changed your life; what persuaded you to travel to your fatherland?

This trip really changed everything for me if I’m being honest. In the pandemic, my father made contact again with the Kenyan side of the family. My great great-grandma was still alive at this point and I remember seeing an image of her in Mombasa and I was just thinking; “I need to go visit her.” I never met her, my first cousins and uncle in Kenya before in my life. I met my Zanzibar side, but not the Kenyan one.

Over the pandemic, you just thought a lot of people lost their lives and especially older people. My great grandma is still alive in Kenya, I need to go meet her because I’m going to regret it if I don’t. Since my dad had reached out and made contact with that side of the family again, I have to take this opportunity. As soon as the restrictions were lifted, I booked a flight to Kenya, Mombasa to see my Kenyan family and then, my Zanzibar family as well. This is because it has been 16 years since I was last in that part of the world.

I just can’t put into words what that felt like. Meeting so close relatives to you in Kenya and haven’t not met them my entire life. I felt ashamed to be honest and a bit embarrassed. They were so lovely. It was supposed to be a two week trip and I just stayed there in Zanzibar for 3 months until I ran out of my visa and had to leave. For my identity as well, it was really aligning. Growing up in this country, especially in a small town, I wouldn’t call it an identity crisis but it was to get back in touch with my blackness.You know, going to East Africa and reconnecting with my roots. I credit that trip to a lot really.

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Most people know about Zanzibar for its white beaches; but a few know about its pain embedded in its history. Even today, there’s still part of my own Swahili ancestry that I am uncovering. What can you tell us about the region and your connection to it?

The main thing I’ve learned is the kind of confidence in the way people attack the day, the way they deal with hardship. My family outlook came from a positive place. To be fair, they live day to day. They make most of each day. That’s the main thing that I took away from it. I’m getting so stressed with stuff I don’t really need to be stressed about. I need to be more grateful. That’s the one thing I will take away.

 I didn’t do a lot of historical trips since I was mainly with my family. I actually need to learn more about Zanzibar’s history. The island is known for its spice and it used to be a trading port. There’s a lot of Arabic influence since it is on the Coast. The country is 99% muslim and I grew up muslim so it was great to touch back with my faith. I really need the history of both Kenya and Zanzibar to be honest. 

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Ok, fair enough. A portion of your album was also recorded in Zanzibar, what was the process like?

When I left to go to East Africa, it wasn’t really in my mind to record it was to reconnect with family and my roots. However, because of how I felt when I got there, especially in Zanzibar, honestly I didn’t want to leave. So I came back to the UK and then, went back again at the end of the year. I flew my producer out there and he came and stayed with me for a couple of weeks. I just really felt like we will pull this record together in Zanzibar. I don’t know how to describe it but it was a space where I was able to reflect. It was a refuge to put everything together. At least half of the album was recorded there. Since that trip, I’ve been going back every year for at least 3 months. I’m super grateful for that time.

Personally, some of my favourite tracks on the album were ‘Brother’ and ‘Trouble’. What is something you would like for listeners to take away from this project?

Naturally, I share stuff, sometimes to my own detriment. I do it so that I can be seen as fully who I am as a person, in the hopes that you make connections with other people that feel the same or experience something similar to you. I think when you have a common ground, one is so that you don’t feel alone but also, it is easy to find your tribe and your own people. That’s my earliest memory when I wrote a song like ‘State of Mind,’ I thought like somebody else must feel like this too. All I want is for people to feel something.

Just when we had started to put the idea of major music project releases to rest—a few weeks before the end of last year—Wizkid and Asake, two of the most exciting acts this year, announced a joint tape set for release later this month. “Special announcement,” Wizkid bellowed, in the early hours of Friday morning last week during his appearance at the Apple Music Radio Takeover, wearing a dark sweater and oval-shaped sunglasses. “2025, Mr Money-Big Wiz project. And it drops this December,” he continued. At which point, Asake, wearing a dark t-shirt and a svelte chain, began to intersperse Wizkid’s address with encouraging quips: “Oh yes!” “Olorun!” “On God!”

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While this announcement took us all by surprise, in a sense, it seems only fitting. Both acts delivered an impressive year through a mix of high-impact musical collaborations and statement-making performances, including celebrated orchestral concerts in the US. This seemed to foreshadow new music, a project of sorts, which never quite materialized. In the case of Asake, anticipation for his project reached a fever pitch around the third quarter of this year. By then, he had relentlessly teased an album tentatively titled M$NEY through countless snippets and aesthetic revamps. With each new look—his scruffy era, his military garb era, his slicked blue hair era, his low cut era, his bald era, his corporate fit era—fans, well accustomed to guessing games celebrities often enact with their fans, would predict the imminence of the album, which would ultimately fail to materialize.

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December came and went without this project surfacing. Details on this new project remain sparse. All we have to speculate is the title: Real; and a new estimated timeline for release—sometime within the first quarter of this year, according to industry whispers. I however would advise against taking this as face value, Wizkid is notorious for making glib promises only to either deliver on them later than expected or throw them out the window. I still recall him, on the O2 stage during his 2021 performance with Burna Boy, promising to release B.D’OR at exactly midnight—the song dropped weeks after. 

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His magnum opus, Made in Lagos, arrived years after it was promised (thankfully, it was worth the wait.) There’s also his grand promise, after a Lagos performance in 2023, that fans would no longer have to pay to see him in Lagos. “With the kind of love you guys show me, it’s very unfair for me to do shows around the world and still make you guys pay to watch me perform. I want to make a promise tonight, this is the last time you’re ever going to pay to come to a Wizkid show.” This December, he performed at the Tafawa Balewa Stadium, with some regular tickets costing as high as 150 thousand Naira. The collaborative project and tour he announced with Davido in 2023, will probably never materialize given the increasingly strained relationship between the Afrobeats stars. There’s however good reason to believe that Asake and Wizkid’s joint tape will make it out of their hard drives: the duo have not just offered promises, they have begun a marketing campaign, starting with their Apple Music Radio Takeover appearance, to drum up anticipation for Real. 

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It’s unclear what format Wizkid and Asake’s imminent project will take, if it does indeed drop. An album, however, seems unlikely. Going by Wizkid’s proclivity for EPs that punctuate periods between his albums, Real will most likely be an EP, one replete with bangers given that it was initially scheduled to drop during the festive season. And if their previous collaborations—MMS, Bad Girl, and Getting Paid—anything to go by Real could wind up as one of the projects that will set the tone for 2026, which is already looking like an interesting year for music. 

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In the past few years, as podcasts have proliferated and embedded themselves in the fabric of culture, they've paradoxically become a punchline. Spend enough time on social media and you'll stumble upon exasperated harangues by people claiming society has had enough of podcasts. Spend some more time and perhaps you'll stumble into the corner of the internet where male podcasters are regarded as walking, breathing red flags. In this precinct of social media, while female podcasters aren't quite held with the same level of contempt, they're also treated with suspicion. The opening sentence of an essay by Naomi Ezenwa for Culture Custodian titled The Great Decline of Meaningful Conversation in Nigeria’s Media Space adequately captures the consensus on podcasts in this part of the world: “Everyone has a podcast—or is about to launch one. From living rooms to YouTube studios, microphones are plugged in, ring lights are on, and conversations are being recorded at a dizzying pace.”

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More insightful is the second paragraph, in which she takes on the question of whether the explosion in podcast popularity reflects increased consumption of the form. “As Nigeria’s talk media continues to grow, we must ask: is anyone actually listening, or is everybody just talking?” She writes. Spotify’s Top Podcast list, one of the many dispatches the company released last December to mark the end of the year, adds an interesting dimension to the conversation. The top five podcasts in Nigeria are: Apostle Femi Lazarus, Apostle Joshua Selman, I Said What I Said, The HonestBunch Podcast, and The Oyedepo Podcast. The obvious throughline is that a critical mass of podcasts here are faith-based. This becomes clearer when one glimpses the top ten podcasts, seven of which are faith-based. This observation has already begun to stir an array of conversations, everything from the outsized power religious figures wield over the country, to the dichotomy between the religious fervor that pulses through the country and our dysfunctional society. 

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The more salient and surprising observation however is that the seven putative faith-based podcasts on the list are in fact not really podcasts. As one of the more freewheeling media, there's hardly a single definition of what makes a podcast. Podcasts however share a few things in common. They tend to favour a conversational tone and are episodic. The archetypal podcast typically has anywhere between a single host and a small cohort who dispatch opinions or narratives into a microphone. Podcasts are typically built around the hosts, whose personalities, made manifest through podcast episodes, drive audience loyalty and shape the show’s sensibility. By contrast, the faith-based podcasts on the list are simply recordings of church services, lacking the conversational style or narrative structure that defines typical podcasts. 

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“Well, that still leaves three true podcasts in the top ten,” one might conclude. Except that in number 10 is a nondescript account that posts scraps and snippets of the wildly controversial internet personality Geh Geh, culled from all corners of the internet. Many of the episodes sound grainy and their runtimes range between two and eighteen minutes. Even more bizarre are the episode titles, which include: Four Signs Your Girlfriend is Into Hookup, Davido album is the Best in 2025, and You’re a Celebrity. This leaves I Said What I Said and The Honest Bunch Podcast, which sit at numbers 5 and 6 of the top ten list respectively, as the true podcasts in the top ten list. 

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While Spotify doesn’t release quantitative data on podcasts to the public—monthly listeners, streaming numbers—the paucity of true podcasts on Spotify’s Top Podcasts list suggests that despite the seeming ubiquity of the medium, podcast consumption in Nigeria remains low. One rebuttal to this assertion is that the overwhelming presence of Christian podcasts on Nigeria’s top podcast list is simply a function of Nigeria’s huge Christian population. This theory however falls apart once one looks to Kenya, which, despite a Christian population of roughly 85-90 percent of its total population (nearly double the percentage of Christians in Nigeria) has in its top Spotify podcast list a healthy mix of podcasts from genres as varied as romance, self-development, and comedy. In South Africa, a country whose Christian population makes up 80-84 percent of its population, a similar dynamic is at play. With podcasts like Trevor Noah’s What Now, Podcast and Chill with MacG, and True Crime South Africa in its top Spotify podcasts list, the nation displays a strong and healthy level of podcast consumption.

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Having established that despite the seeming ubiquity of podcasts in Nigeria, podcast consumption remains pitifully low. The question then becomes what the reason is for this dynamic. I suspect the problem is two-fold. On one hand, Nigerians haven’t yet adequately taken to the medium of podcasting. Winding down after a day of work or simply passing time by listening to a podcast are not widespread activities, especially considering our level of internet penetration which most studies place at around 50% of the population. A lot of work is still required to adequately sensitize Nigerians to the medium. This could take the form of targeted marketing campaigns, strategic partnerships with telcos to subsidize data for audio streaming, or even community-driven listening initiatives that demystify podcasts as a “niche” pastime.

On the other hand, the ecosystem itself has not matured enough to sustain widespread adoption. Discoverability remains poor, monetization pathways are uncertain, and creators often struggle to maintain consistency without institutional support. Until key players develop clearer infrastructures, such as platform-backed curation, local investment, and stable revenue models, the average Nigerian consumer is unlikely to see podcasting as an essential part of their media diet.

Still, this obscures the larger and more trenchant problem, which is that the vast majority of podcasts are focused on co-opting viral conversation topics and trends as opposed to cultivating any real sense of thematic identity or providing value to listeners. What emerges, then, is a glut of interchangeable shows, each chasing the same headlines, recycling the same talking points, and offering little that feels durable or necessary. In a media landscape saturated with familiar clattering, audiences have little incentive to commit their time to content that feels ephemeral, derivative, or totally unmoored from a coherent perspective.

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Hip hop has always been a visual culture. Yet the people who shape what rap actually looks like the stylists, creative directors, and custom fabricators who turn artists into icons are rarely credited. While rappers dominate magazine covers and campaign imagery, the hands behind those visuals often remain invisible.

The genre’s relationship with fashion is well documented. From the Dapper Dan era to the runway invasion of the early 2010s, to the current moment where every major luxury house courts rappers as ambassadors, hip hop has consistently influenced how fashion moves. What receives far less attention is the parallel industry that has grown alongside this evolution. A growing class of artisans who do not pull looks from showrooms but build entirely new visual languages from scratch.

This is the space between stylist and sculptor, where a jacket becomes a canvas and a pair of Air Force 1s becomes a signature. It is custom culture at its most intimate. One of one pieces made specifically for an artist’s persona, tour, or album rollout. It is also an economy that exists largely outside traditional fashion systems, powered by Instagram portfolios and word of mouth that travels through management teams and label marketing departments.

The work itself is technically demanding. A hand painted denim jacket for a music video requires more than illustration skills. It demands an understanding of garment construction, camera legibility, and how paint behaves under stage lighting. A custom sneaker for an artist meet and greet must balance visual impact with the reality that it may be worn for eight hours straight. These are not problems taught in fashion schools. They are solved through repetition, client relationships, and a particular kind of hustle that formal training does not account for.

Brooklyn based creative director Ravishin, who works under the name Simply Ravishin, represents a clear example of this artisan class. His client list reads like a major label roster. Lil Uzi Vert, NBA YoungBoy, Kodak Black, Luh Tyler. His work spans custom painted jackets, illustrated sneakers, and occasional oddities such as the Chucky doll he fabricated for Kodak Black.

His path into this world followed no conventional trajectory. Raised in Brownsville, Ravishin discovered painting and sewing while serving time in federal prison, the skills he developed there became the same skills later commissioned by Atlantic Records and Rolling Loud. It is a redemption story, but more importantly, it is a case study in how hip hop’s creative economy creates access points that traditional fashion gatekeeping would never allow.

This shift reflects a broader change in how hip hop artists approach personal style. The previous generation’s flex was access. Wearing pieces so exclusive that ownership itself was the statement. Today, the flex is customization. Owning something that cannot be purchased regardless of budget. A Louis Vuitton trunk may be expensive, but a hand painted jacket made specifically for an album rollout is singular.

The artisans responsible for this singularity occupy an unusual professional space. They are not traditional fashion designers since their work exists outside seasonal collections and retail cycles. They are not fine artists either. Their creations are functional garments meant to be worn, photographed, and lived in. They operate in the gaps between established creative industries, which may explain why hip hop, an art form born in gaps, has embraced them so fully.

The business model, however, is precarious. A single endorsement from the right artist can fill a calendar for months. A shift in that artist’s creative direction can empty it just as quickly. There are no unions, no standard pricing structures, no clear progression from emerging to established. Success looks like consistency. Enough work to stay visible. Enough range that no single relationship becomes existential.

What this artisan class ultimately provides hip hop is visual specificity. In an industry where every rapper has access to the same archive pulls and luxury houses, custom work becomes a true differentiator. It signals creative intent rather than spending power. Artists who commission this work are making a statement about collaboration and trust, about allowing another creative’s vision to exist directly on their bodies in front of millions.

In return, these artisans receive something traditional fashion rarely offers. Immediate visibility. A custom piece worn in a music video can reach more people in twenty four hours than most runway shows reach in an entire season. It is exposure that cannot be bought, only earned through work compelling enough that artists want to be seen in it.

This ecosystem will continue to exist whether or not mainstream fashion validates it. The demand is artist driven. The supply is hustle driven. And the results speak most clearly through music videos, festival stages, and Instagram posts where an artist appears in something that could not have come from any rack.

The names behind that work deserve to be documented.

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There’s something telling about how an artist chooses to close a year. 

Ara The Jay didn’t just stage his second annual end of year concert, NIMO LIVE; he made a statement. His live performance on December 20, 2025, at Alliance Française felt like a marker in motion, a moment that solidified his growth as a performer while pointing firmly toward what comes next. 

From the moment Ara walked on stage, there was a calm confidence in how he carried himself, someone fully comfortable in his space. He didn’t need to prove anything, and that, strangely, became the point. The way he moved, the way he interacted with the crowd, was enticing to say the least. 

This wasn’t just about running through songs from The Odyssey, his latest album. It was about how those songs have grown in a live setting. By the time the third set rolled in, a full run of Ara’s own records backed by a live band, the room felt locked in. You could hear it in the sing-alongs and see it in the way people leaned forward instead of reaching for their phones. The band added weight and warmth, letting familiar records breathe in new ways. 

The guest moments were thoughtfully placed. M.anifest and KiDi brought different textures to the stage, but nothing felt like a distraction. When newer voices like 99 Phaces and Ess Thee Legend performed, it felt like a real community rather than co-signing. 

Ara’s out-the-blue drumming set caught a lot of us off guard, in the best way possible! There was a collective “wait, since when?” in the room. It turns out Ara The Jay has been playing drums in church for years, and suddenly everything made sense. For a moment, it felt like watching someone unlock a new side of themselves in real time. 

Ara’s looks for the night matched the confidence of the performances: bold but unfussy, expressive without trying too hard. 

The production design quietly did its job in the background, which is exactly why it worked. The screens weren’t screaming for attention; they were telling a story, marked with distinct motion graphics on theme with The Odyssey album cover art. It all came together seamlessly almost without you noticing. 

The audience gave back what they were receiving. The energy stayed high, but more importantly, present. People were there to feel the show. That says a lot about where Ara The Jay sits culturally right now. 

Thinking back to the first Nimo Live, the growth is impossible to miss. This show felt more grounded, more assured. And if this is how Ara chooses to close chapters, it’s hard not to be curious about what a future NIMO LIVE III might look like.

As 2026 begins, this concert feels less like an ending and more like a blueprint. Ara The Jay is no longer just refining his sound; he’s shaping his live identity. If NIMO LIVE II is any indication, what lies ahead will be bigger, bolder, and even more intentional.