On March 13th 2025, I participated in a panel discussion where I told attendees that years ago, I set myself on a challenge to read a book from every African country–but I lied. The truth is I only ever bought a fraction of those books and read about three of them. For long, I forgot about the challenge altogether. It was only when I recognized how little I knew about the world beyond my immediate surroundings, that I hoped to revive this pursuit–and this time, share my reading list with others who might feel the same curiosity.
After the panel, a South African author who was also a fellow panelist and on a book tour at the time, asked me which book from his region I had read. For some reason, I could not utter one of my favourite childhood books, ‘Tsotsi’ by Athol Fugard. It hadn’t occurred to me that this book, although the story is set in South Africa, I had never considered it a South African book, per se. Somehow without knowing, I had created those invisible rules in my head about what classifies a book from a specific region.
In that regard, I began thinking of the rules that I wanted to apply to this reading list. Firstly, each author must be the originators of the country they represent. This means no settlers, no diasporic members, no bypassers, etc… Why? Without making this too political; representation matters. By mere coincidence, if a native reader were to stumble upon this article hoping to find an author from their own country, regardless of whether the storyline directly concerns that country, then this should be the place they can.
Secondly, all selected works must be novels. This means no memoirs, anthologies, short stories, or poetry collections. Why such a narrow scope? In my experience, I found that literary niches aren’t for everyone, and to really capture the collective voice of a country, I believe novels tend to speak from the soul of the community in a way a few forms do.
Finally, you will quickly notice that there are exceptions to the rule–or better said, some rules are meant to be broken. As I researched for this project, I realized not all nations have access to or have been granted English translations of their literary works. If this was the case, I must say I’d have far more interesting recommendations to offer. However, I am also aware that not everyone speaks French and if the goal is to reach a global readership, English editions are preferred.
Regardless of whether you agree or disagree with the selections, my hope is that you learn something new–because I certainly did. When we speak of resistance and especially in modern days, nothing rings as true as the AES coalition. I was genuinely surprised to learn how difficult it was to find a fiction story on the great Mali Empire, for example. Novels during the late Sankara’s era, or even an English edition reciting at heart the everyday life in Niger.
Now I know that there are hidden gems out there that for some reasons unknown to me, they did not appear during my research. And so, rather than presenting this article as the ultimate guide, or the one and only list you will find of a book from your country of origin, take this matter as an effort of representation, accessibility and a small step in the right direction; highlighting literature of the motherland and its authors whose voices emerge from it.
1. African Psycho - Alain Mabanckou (Congo)
If I were to create an imaginary hierarchy of African literature that I believe to be the best books ever written, then ‘African Psycho’ by Alain Mabanckou would be on top of the pyramid. There’s nothing more unsettling yet thought-provoking than to be forced into the mind of a psychopath of the Republic of the Congo (Not to mistake with Republic Democratic of the Congo) and coming to the realization towards the final chapter that this individual could possibly live among us. Despite Alain’s sentiment towards my country of origin, the Republic Democratic of the Congo, which reflects throughout his passages, it would be almost disingenuous of me not to recognize this book as what it is–a masterpiece in narrative.
2. Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe (Nigeria)
It wouldn’t be an African literary list without Nigeria A.K.A the giants of Africa were not involved. Some may argue author Wole Soyinka or Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie to be a better representation; however, before you judge my final decision, just hear me out. If you were to select one book, one story, regardless of any series or era, then it would be without a doubt ‘Things Fall Apart’ by the late Chinua Achebe. This debut novel follows a Nigerian family in the pre-colonial era and shows how in its compelling narratives, they ultimately fall into the hands of their opponents. Besides the obvious groundbreaking storytelling, the passage of time is masterfully handled, keeping readers engaged until the very last page.
3. This Mournable Body - Tsitsi Dangarembga (Zimbabwe)
A read that truly shocked me during my earlier attempt at this challenge was ‘This Mournable Body’ by Tsitsi Dangarembga. I must admit that I knew nothing about Zimbabwe’s history prior to reading this book–and like the best stories do, this opened my eyes to an entire new world I had been unfamiliar with. This novel gives a glimpse into the life of an old Zimbabwean woman at the bottom of her luck. Her struggle to make ends meet and secure affordable housing is deeply woven with the country’s history and the social and economic conditions it faced after independence. Perhaps what is the most intriguing aspect of this book is the unexpected turn of events throughout this story, which seemingly transforms the main character who was for long placed at the sidelines of her own story, to the middle point of a totally different narrative.
4. The Scent of the Father - Valentin-Yves Mudimbe (DRC Congo)
Known to many as one of Africa’s greatest minds and Congolese author of ‘The Invention of Africa’, the late Valentin-Yves Mudimbe is a force to reckon with and that I’m afraid I’ve only become aware of his work far too late. Often overlooked in the literary world, his influence is still felt towards the newest generation of Congolese writers wanting to experience just a thread of his excellence. In this case, the exception to the rule applies. The reason I chose this book consisting of essays that I have yet to obtain and read is because of this quote from the description; “For Africa to escape the West, says Mudimbe, it must become aware of what remains Western in the very concepts and forms of thought that allow it to think against the West...” I believe ‘The Scent of the Father’ is only the beginning of a journey through Mudimbe’s large catalogue.
5. The River Between - Ngugi Wa Thiong'o (Kenya)
When it comes to an African pioneer who influenced my work the most without my knowledge, ‘The River Between’ by the late Ngugi Wa Thiong’o still echoes through me. From the very moment I wrote a poem sharing his title, to the time I had the opportunity to purchase this exact book at my own launch, Ngugi’s writing follows me wherever I go and I am still inspired by his words today. I couldn’t possibly do justice with an explanation as I am still unfolding what is a very hard read I must say; however, worth every drop of a tear. It explores the role of christianity forced upon by the early settlers and how this Kenyan tribe is torn to build a new form of existence not only in this period, but also in its future to come. I am of the opinion that if you can get through this work of art, then you can pursue any other works of Ngugi's.
6. The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born - Ayi Kwei Armah (Ghana)
A father of African literature that I’ve surprisingly only heard of this year although I knew of this book years ago is ‘The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born’ by Ayi Kwei Armah. Not to take away from any of his shine; however, for those who are intrigued, I read Ghanaian author Yaa Gyasi’s ‘Homegoing’ as part of the challenge. There’s something gravitating from the title of his debut novel alone, and when you find out that the story is about a man resisting temptations in a quest to preserve his integrity, a whole picture is revealed before you. Unfortunately, I believe Ghana is often overshadowed by their African cousins, namely Nigeria. Which is a fuss because this novel has awfully good reviews.
7. Neighbours - Lilia Momple (Mozambique)
This hits close to home for me because if it wasn’t for a friend that I made along the way who comes from Mozambique, it wouldn’t have sparked a curiosity in this country who I thought was French-speaking; however, it happens to be a Portuguese past colony. Where ‘Neighbours’ by Lilia Mompele fall in line is that it’s a murder story set in Mozambique where a rumour of foreign invasion causes torments to this group of households in the capital city of Maputo. From my understanding as a future reader of this book is that the story urges you to face the country’s complex past and its current state.
8. Allah is Not Obliged - Ahmadou Kourouma (Ivory Coast)
Perhaps a region that doesn’t make much noise in the literary world; however, is vastly known throughout the continent for its booming music is none other than Ivory Coast. I am glad to share ‘Allah is Not Obliged’ by the late Ahmadou Kourouma as I plan on reading this in the feasible future. The story is about a young Ivorian boy who, after his mother’s passing, is seeking a new life in a neighbouring country; however, has fallen victim to the war and is forcibly drafted as a child soldier. He must succumb to unimaginable adversary and it is with the famous words; “ALLAH IS NOT OBLIGED TO BE FAIR ABOUT ALL THE THINGS HE DOES HERE ON EARTH,” that he may find meaning in the suffering.
9. The Heart of Redness - Zakes Mda (South Africa)
As I mentioned before, it would be hard to beat my childhood favourite ‘Tsotsi’ with any South African book I may read moving forward; however, representation matters and certainly in a region with a rich history of destabilization by its settlers. When I came across ‘The Heart of Redness’ by Zakes Mda, it spoke to me. For now, I can not wait to make this read come true. A South African who went on exile during apartheid returns to his home country to find it anew. Followed by an eccentric love story, false promises of a tribe and a deep look at a terrain recoupling after blood was shed for centuries, I think it is a good look into the psyche and spirit of the new South Africa movement.
10. Woman at Point Zero - Nawal El Saadawi (Egypt)
I don’t think there’s a single writer that I’ve watched their short clips on the internet without ever reading their actual work more than this feminist anchor. So when it was time to rekindle this forgotten challenge, I set my eyes on ‘Woman at Point Zero’ by the late Nawal El Saadawi. Only the future will tell when I get the chance to read it. As an Egyptian woman born into a poor family in the countryside, manages to break the shackles of her childhood, she ventures into a life full of lessons. Every relationship she comes across becomes a harsh reminder that, and I quote; “the only free people are those who want nothing, fear nothing and hope for nothing.” The story ends with her finding freedom in her own form of tragic yet realistic ending.
11. Ghost Season - Fatin Abbas (Sudan)
I still remember when I first saw the cover of this debut novel in its German edition. Firstly, it must be said that I have a long deep love story with the nation of Sudan for I believe they are masters in poetry. Although that may be the case, I wasn’t as much familiar with their novels, which I believe would really allow outsiders to penetrate into the depth of its country. So this is a must in due time. ‘Ghost Season’ by Faith Abbas captures the nuances of artificial borders, whether it’d be physical, ethnically or religiously. As tension rises in a town between Sudan and South Sudan, a single dead body brings a group of different individuals there together. The story follows their journey at the midst of a civil conflict.
12. Call and Response - Gothataone Moeng (Botswana)
13. The Purple Violet of Ashaantu - Neshani Andreas (Namibia)
14. The Happy Marriage - Tahar Ben Jelloun (Morocco)
15. The Shadow King - Maaza Mengiste (Ethiopia)
Not to sound like a broken record; however, ‘The Shadow King’ by Maaza Mengiste was one of these few instances where I purchased the book for the challenge and never got around to reading it. As an apology to our beloved readers, I will share a short description instead. It is the beginning of WW2 where the current Ethiopian emperor struggles to defeat the Italians. Only when an orphan who works as his maid offers a plan to maintain their spirit that its people begin to see a glimmer of hope. Lyrically intertwined with Ethiopia's history and women empowerment, it serves as an homage to the forgotten female heroes of history.
16. Silence is My Mother Tongue - Sulaiman Addonia (Eritrea)
17. The Fortune Men - Nadifa Mohamed (Somali)
18. In the United States of Africa - Abdourahman A. Waberi (Djibouti)
19. Weeding the Flowerbeds - Sarah Mkhonza (Eswatini)
20. Baho! - Roland Rugero (Burundi)
21. A Girl Called Eel - Ali Zamir (The Comoros)
22. Three Egg Dilemma - Morabo Morojele (Lesotho)
23. The Hand of Iman - Ryad Assani-Razaki (Benin)
24. Michel the Giant An African in Greenland - Tété-Michel Kpomassie (Togo)
25. So Long a Letter - Mariama Bâ (Senegal)
26. Swing Time - Zadie Smith (Gambia)
From reading the book description alone, you wouldn’t think that it is a story that I’m particularly fond of; however, I have seen‘Swing Time’ by Zadie Smith everywhere that at this point, it’s a must read. It is a dangerous act to read a book solely because of its visual familiarity and it rarely occurs to me to be the case. Two dancers who happen to be friends with one who’s talented and the other is idealistic. What could possibly go wrong? I hope our Gambian readers will give me an E for effort.
27. The Fury and Cries of Women - Angèle Rawiri (Gabon)
28. The Ultimate Tragedy - Abdulai Silá (Guinea-Bissau)
29. Bound to Violence - Yambo Ouologuem (Mali)
30. Told by Starlight in Chad - Joseph Brahim Seid (Chad)
31. The Lazarus Effect - Hawa Jande Golakai (Liberia)
32. Radiance of Tomorrow - Ishmael Beah (Sierra Leone)
33. The Ardent Swarm - Yamen Manai (Tunisia)
34. Harraga - Boualem Sansal (Algeria)
35. My Friends - Hisham Matar (Libya)
36. And Crocodiles are Hungry at Night - Jack Mapanje (Malawi)
37. Edo's Souls - Stella Gaitano (South Sudan)
38. All Your Children, Scattered - Beata Mairesse (Rwanda)
39. By Night The Mountain Burns - Juan Tomás Ávila Laurel (Equaterial Guinea)
40. Co-wives, Co-widows - Adrienne Yabouza (Central Africa Republic)
41. How Beautiful We Were - Imbolo Mbue (Cameroon)
Who’s guilty of having books on her shelf that she never read? I guess that would be me. In all seriousness, ‘How Beautiful We Were’ by Imbolo Blue drew my attention the second I added it to my wishlist. In a fictional village, environmental disasters seem to take place throughout the childhood of a young girl due to the lack of care and greed of a dictatorial regime. The little girl grows into a revolutionalist, while it becomes her living mission to free her people.
42. The Lives and Deaths of Véronique Bangoura - Tierno Monénembo (Guinea)
43. So Distant From My Life - Monique Ilboudo (Burkina Faso)
When you think of the late Thomas Sankara and now-president Ibrahim Traoré of Burkina Faso, the lack of literature by Burkinabé about their history and English editions is not something I would have put two and two together. Thankfully, that is why Monique Ilboudo exists and ‘So Distant From My Life’ sounds as daring as an important story to highlight. A man from a fictional West African place becomes obsessed with the idea of migration. He endures the dangerous route across the Sahara to Morocco, where he is repatriated. His desperation leads him to the encounter of a French widower and as an opportunity unveils, tragedies continue.
44. Desert and the Drum - Mbarek Ould Beyrouk (Mauritania)
45. The Mourning Bird - Mubanga Kalimamukwento (Zambia)
46. The First Woman - Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi (Uganda)
If you made it this far, even you must admit that I have an impressive collection of unread books. ‘The First Woman’ by Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi is no different, sitting as a reminder of my shortcomings that can still be rectified in the future. The story follows a young Ugandan teenager who can no longer stay silent about the void she feels inside and demands that her family give answers about the absence of her mother–the woman who brought her to life. To quote; “Her search will take her away from the safety of her prosperous Ugandan family, plunging her into a very different world of magic, tradition, and the haunting legend of 'The First Woman'”.
47. afterlives - Abdulrazak Gurnah (Tanzania)
48. Beyond the Rice Fields - Naivo (Madagascar)
49. Eve Out of Her Ruins - Ananda Devi (Mauritius)
50. NATIVE DANCE An African Story - Gervásio Kaiser (Sao Tome and Prínciple)
51. The Madwoman of Serrano - Dina Salústio (Cape Verde)
52. In the Net - Hawad (Niger)
This is a bit of a sensitive spot to me because Hawad does not identify as a Nigerien although he was born in what is a modern Niger territory. At this stage, I had to make the difficult decision to still highlight the poetry collection ‘In the Net’ as an exception to the rule due to the fact it is one of the few English editions I came across in this region. Despite the controversy, I have a deeply new-found love for Niger as I spent my summer in New York with an auntie who even showed up to my book presentation in Harlem. It would have been an incomplete list without the giving nature of the Niger people that I’ve come to adore.
53. Contes et poèmes des Seychelles - Antoine Abel (Seychelles)
As they say, beggars can not be choosers and although, I do not believe it is a necessity for every author to translate their work in English, boy did Seychelles sure made it a challenge to me [laugh.] This poetry collection ‘Contes et poèmes des Seychelles’ by Antoine Abel may not appear as a treasure find now; however, only for those who learn to appreciate Google translate in due time.
54. White Can Dance too - Kalaf Epalanga (Angola)
Once again, the world will never get to witness the sweat, blood and tears I had to endure just to find ‘White Can Dance Too’ by Kalaf Epalanga. As a nation that shares past history with my country of origin the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Angola and its people have a special place in my heart. To obtain and read this book when time sees fit would be interesting to view how much we align and differ due to a shared history.
As someone who discovered Zaylevelten in February this year, when he released Watching Me, I consider myself one of his early fans. (Earlier fans, those who found him through before 1t g0t crazy or l0cked 1n—tapes he released in 2024—might chafe at this characterization.) Lying on my bed, one cool evening after work, I performed the distinctly 21st-century ritual of scrolling through X, the platform formerly known as Twitter, dutifully scanning its interminable sea of text and visuals for my latest dopamine hit. After what felt like 5 minutes I stumbled upon a snippet that stopped me in my tracks. “‘Watching me’ out on all plats,” the caption read. In the video, which pulses with the slightly off-kilter and grimy feel we often see in US and UK underground scenes, two guys dressed in all black outfits prance around over a discordant track. The clip is fashionably upbeat. The aspect ratio is distorted so that every person or object looks unnaturally long and lyrics in the font of Charlie XCX’s Brat haphazardly pop up on the screen. I was immediately arrested by Zaylevelten’s but even I couldn’t predict his surreal rise this year.
Since then, I’ve assiduously followed his blistering rise. Zaylevelten’s every release has sent shockwaves throughout the pop landscape, seemingly consolidating his base and strengthening the resolve of his antagonists. No more intense has this endless cycle of polarization been than in the days and weeks that followed the release of then 1t g0t crazy, a smorgasbord of tracks that foreground his distinctively Nigerian interpretation of Trap music, which he auspiciously released on the first of October this year. All of this has culminated in the deluxe edition of the project, cheekily titled then 1t g0t crazier. Indeed in this spruced-up edition, things get more intense. then 1t g0t crazier tops up its original version with the addition of four new tracks, two of which feature Odumodublvck and Mavo.
One of the chief pleasures of then 1t g0t crazy is its textured exploration of contemporary youth through a decidedly Nigerian lens. Consider, Guide Pass, a standout track on the project. Here he trains his attention on the familiar situation of friendships coming to an abrupt end as a result of the change in fortunes of a member of the friendship group. In the song’s overture, he addresses whispers of rancor between him and a friend, clarifying that he has no problems with anyone, he has simply transcended the friendship. “No be say we get issue I don pass you,” he intones.
Other times he’s more cavalier, nonetheless his unbridled swagger persists. In Pawon, a callback to Olamide’s single of the same title, he conjures a decadent scene. Inebriated and throbbing with virility, presumably at the cusp of sexual relations with a woman, he sings: “Upstairs. Make she climb up. I don high up. I no fit calm down baby climb up,” he raps. Abruptly, the song cuts to a different scene. Here he’s faced with a different dilemma: he has just received a lump sum and is pleading with his interlocutor not to forget the password. As with many other Hip Hop acts he often dawdles along moral boundaries, exploring subjects such as fraud, sexism-addled sexual relations (pun very much intended), and drugs. Depending on what moral standards you uphold, some of these themes might come across as off-putting. And yet, his ceaseless interrogation of morally questionable themes, paired with his sensibility for slang and unbelievably smooth flows, confer his music with frisson. Listening to the project feels a bit like being in the first flush of youth, feeling like the world is your oyster and nothing is beyond reach.
The four new additions on then 1t g0t crazier crackle with this familiar frisson. On Isa Lot, an ode to his, apparently, immense level of swagger, he regales himself and his audience with syrupy smooth flows and, occasionally, poignant lyrics that can catch one off guard. Between exuberant boasts and hilarious quips such as when he raps “Lamba anytime I’m yearning with a thot,” he sneaks in lines whose playful delivery might belie their depth: “Soft life from a hard life/ Tenski now my music don dey massive.” Wuse Tu, featuring Mavo and Lowzy, is similarly exhilarating. It’s just a shame that Idanski, which was already close to perfection, is undercut by a lackluster, bluster-riddled verse by Odumodublvck in the remix.
Earlier, I expressed astonishment at Zaylevelten’s increasingly rapid rise to fame. If a recent tweet he made is any indication, he also shares in this astonishment. “If someone told me I’d have over 5 songs touch a million streams by the end of this year I woulda called cap, we’ll keep going crazy I love y’all,” he writes. In explaining his rise, several theories abound. And yet, the most compelling one remains that his ascendancy owes something to his intrepid exploration of subjects that deeply resonate with young adults today.
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Across the vast belt of the Sahara and Sahel — from Niger to Chad, Sudan to Somalia, and across Mauritania — lives the fictional nomadic people known as the Khal’rin. Their entire creative identity is built around camel-hair art, an expression shaped by desert life, spiritual memory, and survival.
They say:
“The desert gives the camel, the camel gives the culture.”
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Legend says that the first Khal’rin artist, Sahelah the Weaver, survived a fierce sandstorm by burying herself in a tent woven from camel hair. When she emerged the next morning, the wind had carved natural patterns into the fabric — shapes that resembled dunes, stars, and desert spirits.
Inspired by this “gift of the wind,” the Khal’rin began trimming, weaving, and painting camel hair as a way to communicate with the desert and honor the animals that carried them through it.
To this day, every Khal’rin child is taught:
“The wind shapes the hair, and the hair teaches the hand.”
ART FORMS OF THE KHAL’RIN
The most respected practice is shaving detailed patterns into the coats of living camels a tradition echoing real practices seen in parts of Sudan and Somalia.
Motifs include:
Camels become walking tapestries, carrying the stories of their owners.
Tents, shawls, and robes are woven from soft camel underhair, with patterns that act as coded messages — blessings, warnings, and clan symbols. This craft, influenced by weaving traditions in Mauritania and Niger, carries deep meaning through every motif.
Camel hide is stretched, dried, and painted. When lit, the lanterns cast shadows of dunes and spirits, used during festivals and night journeys.
During rites of passage, camel manes are dyed with natural pigments seen across East African nomadic cultures:
VALUES AND SOCIAL MEANING
Held annually during the dry season across Khal’rin camps in Sudan and Chad.
Events include:
Winners of the fur-carving competition are given desert jade beads — worn only by master Maheeri.
A marriage tradition practiced in Mauritania and Niger regions: both families weave a camel-hair tapestry symbolizing the joining of households.
Across communities in Somalia and Northern Sudan, youths dye a section of their camel’s mane to mark adulthood and identity.
As younger Khal’rin migrate to cities like Nouakchott, Niamey, Khartoum, and Hargeisa, camel herds shrink and ancient practices risk fading.
Still, the culture adapts; blending old patterns with new symbols while preserving its essence.
Elders say:
“As long as the camel walks, the art breathes.”
For the Khal’rin, camel-hair art is a living language — a thread connecting ancestors, land, identity, and community. It shows how desert societies across Niger, Chad, Sudan, Somalia, and Mauritania transform survival into beauty and tradition into art. It is proof that culture doesn’t just survive the desert, it grows from it.
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After six years building a career in Australia that earned her four ARIA Awards and international recognition, Zambian-born, Botswana-raised artist, Sampa The Great has relocated her professional base back to Southern Africa. She's bringing the expertise, relationships, and global perspective she gained abroad back to Zambia and Botswana, investing in the creative economies that shaped her in the first place.
At the center of it all is Nu Zamrock, Sampa's expansion of the genre pioneered by her relative George "Groovy Joe" Kunda. Where Zamrock fused rock, funk, and African rhythms in the 1970s, Nu Zamrock adds hip-hop, poetry, and soul to that foundation. Her 2026 album will tell that story fully, positioning her as a genre trailblazer expanding Zamrock into new territories. Ahead of that release, we sat with Sampa. This is that conversation.
Your "Return to Africa" movement is central to this moment in your career. What does "returning" mean to you when you've carried Zambia and Botswana with you everywhere, from Australia to global stages? How has your relationship with the continent evolved over the years?
I wouldn't say it is a return to Africa movement because I was born and raised in Africa. I would say it's a reclaiming of my professional career in the place that most inspired it. I was based in Australia for six years and started my professional career there after completing university studies, which is the reason I went to Australia in the first place.
After my music career started blowing up, I decided to stay there and grow my career. Now, I've decided to bring all I've learned in my time there and on global stages back to the places that inspired the dream in the first place, Zambia where I was born and Botswana where I was raised.
You call yourself Sampa The Great. When did you start using that name, and what does "greatness" mean to you? Has your definition changed over the years?
I started calling myself Sampa The Great as a reminder to be the greatest version of myself always. Over the years it has evolved to doing the best that I can always. That does not mean perfection or being the strongest or greatest person in the room. It's simply pushing to do your best at any given time and constantly working on it, regardless of the situation you're in.
Fashion has become a big part of your cultural presence. How do you see fashion as an extension of your artistry? What conversations do you want your presence in those spaces to spark?
I always say it was the Thandiswa Mazwais, the Angelique Kidjos, and the Angela Nyirendas of the world that made it cool to wear your traditional attire on stage, at awards, and in the mainstream. This was pre-Wakanda, because it definitely was a time where it wasn't the norm or was called corny.
I say that to say, it's something powerful about being in spaces in which people who look like you or who expressed their culture like you were not allowed in. It sparks the movement of African style and fashion belonging everywhere and having as much access to any and all spaces as everyone else. Not only because it's top tier, but also because it is the silent inspiration all fashion draws from.
"GOAT" on the HIM soundtrack sits alongside Denzel Curry, Tierra Whack, Gucci Mane. It's a powerful lineup. What was your creative process for contributing to a film soundtrack versus creating for an album? How did you approach it differently?
"GOAT" was a very exciting experience for me because I'm a huge fan of Jordan Peele's movies and Marlon Wayans. So to have my name attached to a project with them was amazing.
My goal was to express what the story of the movie is, the synopsis I was given, and how it relates to my life and industry. "What would it take to be the GOAT to you?" What are you willing to strive for, give up, and sometimes sacrifice? In this very political and dark world, the word sacrifice has more than one meaning. When it comes to the music industry, I really related to the topic of mentorship, fame, sacrifice, and being comfortable enough to be out of the spotlight and have my music touch and influence culture as my own definition of success.
You hosted the Lusaka Homecoming Block Party in November. What did that day need to feel like for you? What were you most excited about?
It needed to feel like the neighborhood kids have come together to celebrate and have a braai. Celebrate the creativity we all love. Celebrate the fact that we get to be creative in a somewhat conservative country and that there are like minded creatives who want to work and be in community with each other.
Gaming culture has embraced your music; you're featured on the EA Sports FC 26 soundtrack. How does seeing your work in a global video game impact your audience reach, and do you see gaming as a new platform for African artists?
I think it's amazing that EA Sports has added "Can't Hold Us" to the game. The reach of the gaming world is incredible and I'm super grateful I get to be a part of it. I feel like African artists definitely have a space in the gaming world and it is a new avenue for cultural storytelling that I'm excited for us to explore.
You're working with a new creative team: Nia Andrews directing, Iggy London on visuals, Abu Dumbuya on photography. What's changed about how you see yourself through their lens? Have they pulled something out of you that wasn't there before?
Collaborating with new and exciting creatives always brings the best out of you that you never saw. Iggy London has an amazing visual eye and a great knack for storytelling, and it's definitely a lane I've been growing myself and was able to expand through working with him.
Nia Andrews is an amazing creative director and, most importantly, what I call a creative interpreter who is able to weave the story and essence of the creative world into our work via world-building. A skill that was sharpened on my end through her in this project. Abu Dumbuya brought the spark and excitement to capturing moments from the visuals and interpreting looks for the single tracks. A very well-needed spark that completes the whole process of the visual story. But also my internal team, from management to label to project manager, have been integral to putting this vision to paper, and all this wouldn't have been possible without them.
With a growing global audience and major corporate campaigns, how do you keep it real on social media and when you're building community online? What's your approach to staying authentic as things get bigger?
I still post the majority of my posts online, so you definitely still hear my voice directly to the people who support and encourage me. It's always been that way, especially because it was social media that brought my music to the limelight.
Initially, in a music industry like Australia where there were not a lot of Black artists in the mainstream spotlight, it was social media that had the Will and Jada Pinkett Smiths, the Rhapsodys, and the Lauryn Hills share and acknowledge my work before the industry did. So I always keep talking directly to my online community close to my chest. At the end of the day, it is my voice.
Your 2026 album is coming, "the next era." What's the story you're dying to tell that you haven't been able to yet? What does this new chapter mean for you?
Not only am I related to a pioneer of one of the coolest genres in the world, George "Groovy Joe" Kunda, who is one of the pioneers of Zamrock, I myself am carrying on the legacy and pioneering and expanding the genre to new heights via Nu Zamrock. A story I'm super excited to tell next year!
Sampa is precise about her language. Not "returning" but "reclaiming." Not "perfection" but "doing your best at any given time." Not revival but evolution. These distinctions reveal an artist who understands that words shape worlds. Sampa The Great is reclaiming a genre, expanding its sonic possibilities while honoring its roots. And in that reclamation, she's building pathways for the next generation of Zambian artists to claim their sound, their stages, their futures.
The album arrives in 2026. Everything, the EA Sports placement, the HIM soundtrack, the Lusaka block parties, has been building toward that moment. Nu Zamrock gets its full statement, and Sampa steps fully into the legacy she's been carrying all along.
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There is a particular energy to the way Remi photographs the world. She moves through clubs, concerts, and Afrobeats shows with quiet focus, noticing the moments that define a night, the emotion in a crowd, the hype on stage, the way people forget their problems and immerse themselves in music. Her vision has been shaped by being present in these spaces, understanding the global growth of Afrobeats, and carving a space for Black African women behind the camera. She doesn’t just take pictures; she preserves culture, feeling, and the spirit of the people she photographs. Every shot is intentional, every moment captured in real time, and every photograph holds the authenticity of the experience.
Can you introduce yourself?
“Hi, my name is Remi. I’m a photographer based out of Toronto. I’m also known as Remi Shot It. I shoot mostly concerts and nightlife, so you see me in the club, shooting, and you also see me at your favorite local Afrobeats concert. Afro Beats has blown, so it’s no longer local. I feel like it’s very rare for black African women to be behind the camera and not just be as a photographer but like shooting nightlife, shooting clubs, shooting concerts. So right now, Afrobeats is very global and being a Black female photographer, I’m able to show our culture from behind my own lens.
When I say I shoot concerts and nightlife, I mean that’s really where I am most of the time, either in the club or at Afrobeats concerts. And Afro Beats has blown, so it’s not small or local anymore. It feels important that someone like me is behind the camera. Shooting nightlife, shooting clubs, shooting concerts, being in those spaces, that’s how I show our culture from behind my own lens in a real way. It’s rare to see Black African women in these rooms, but being there matters.”
What themes, stories, or emotions do you try to capture through your photography?
“So I’m able to express things that are culturally relevant and culturally important to anyone that comes across my page and anyone that comes across my pictures online. When I shoot, I don’t necessarily try to capture anything very deep. I kind of go with the vibe, the flow, especially when I’m shooting a concert or nightlife. You’re just trying to capture the exact moment. So every time I shoot a concert, I’m focused mostly on Let me capture this moment, the emotion, the hype, how people are feeling, so that when people go through my Instagram after a concert, either if you attended or you didn’t attend, you’d be like, oh, this show was mad.
Going with the vibe and flow is really how I shoot. I don’t try to force anything deep. I look for the exact moment, the emotion, and the hype. When you go through my pictures online, whether you attended or not, I want you to see those culturally relevant and culturally important moments. I want you to feel what the night felt like. That’s the point, capturing the energy, the people, and the moment as it happened.”
What’s something you want people to understand about you beyond the lens or beyond your photography?
“Beyond photography, I live a pretty private life. People that come to my page usually think it’s a man behind the page. I think people that know me in real life know that I’m a very quiet person. Even though I indulge in nightlife, I’m not necessarily an extroverted person or someone that even likes to party. I just like the vibe and capturing people in their most hyped moments, the times that they forget their problems.
Even though people see me in nightlife, I’m quiet. I’m private. People often assume it’s a man behind the camera, but the people who know me know the real me. I’m not extroverted, and I don’t even really like to party. I just like the vibe. I like capturing people in their most hyped moments, in the times they forget their problems, and that’s really what I enjoy.”
Through her own words, Remi shares the energy, focus, and intention behind her photography. She captures the moments that define a night, the feelings that linger after the music stops, and the culture that continues to grow globally. Her work shows that photography isn’t just about pointing a camera, it’s about presence, energy, and perspective. Every moment she photographs holds authenticity, every frame reflects real emotion, and every image invites people to feel the experience, to relive the hype, and to witness Afrobeats through her lens. In the world of Remi Shot It, every picture is intentional, every night is a story, and every concert becomes a memory preserved in time.
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YSL Beauty unveils its unique immersive beauty and entertainment experience, the YSL Beauty Light Club in Lagos, Nigeria on December 10th, 2025.
YSL Beauty invites you to step into a dazzling new world with the launch of the YSL Beauty Light Club. Drawing inspiration from the vibrant clubbing culture of the 70s and 80s, as well as the legendary venues that were once the playgrounds of M. Saint Laurent himself, this innovative retail experience celebrates the dynamic blend of beauty and music that has always defined the YSL Beauty brand.
Imagine a space where shopping transcends the ordinary—where light, energy, music, and color come together to create an unforgettable journey of self-expression and empowerment. The YSL Beauty Light Club is a tribute to M. Saint Laurent's passion for nightlife and the electric atmosphere of a bygone era, reimagining retail as a celebration of beauty and creativity.
At the YSL Beauty Light Club, you'll discover an expansive range of YSL Beauty fragrance, all presented in an immersive environment designed to awaken your senses for those seeking a more indulgent experience, the luxurious VIP Lounge awaits, offering a symphony of scents that elevate your senses and immerse you in luxury. Every aspect of this vibrant destination is thoughtfully crafted to captivate and exhilarate, making the visit an exciting adventure into the world of beauty. Join us at the YSL Beauty Light Club and embrace a new era where beauty truly meets entertainment!
Enter the world of YSL Beauty at Lagos, Nigeria starting from 10.12.2025. Dare to shine. Purchase your YSL Beauty 90/100ml fragrance at Essenza from 1st of December. Get your YSL Beauty Tote Bag and try your luck for the ticket! Tickets & Tote Bags are limited.
YSL Beauty gives body and soul to a style. Completely liberated, it asserts itself as a collection of icons, with each creation driven by boldness, youth, and the avant-garde. In the wake of Saint Laurent, who showcased the spirit of the times for nearly 40 years, YSL Beauty continues its unbridled love affair with women to create, shape and develop modernity. No compromise. Your own rules. Now.
In Duplicity, Boj reveals two contrasting sides of himself. The Alté pioneer once again reminds us why he is somebody who can never be slept on. Six albums into his career, he is still able to keep people on their toes while maintaining what has made him the innovator he is.
As for the album itself, when you first take it in, you can see a difference between this and his previous material. Sonically, visually, and thematically. The album itself represents two sides and explores the duality of its subject matter through the different emotions, thoughts, and feelings he shares across the project. “The whole concept of the album was born out of an argument,” he shares about the genesis of the album, in how the idea came to be. Its title and concept were determined very early in the album-making process, which is usually the opposite of his process. Even in setting the tone for the visuals and artwork, inspiration came from Peaky Blinders and The Godfather, allowing Boj to express all sides of himself.
As a cultivator in the genesis of the Alté lifestyle, which expands beyond the genre of music and translates across music and fashion, and represents a different kind of creative expression. Boj is somebody who has never shied away from whatever it is that makes him stand out the way he does. As we meet this version of Boj, there is growth and elevation from what has already been established with his legacy and impact on the genre. Joined by his fellow collaborators on the album, he continues to show that, no matter the situation or circumstance, he shifts and expands what people see him as when it comes to his music and creativity
Meeting Boj in this era represents growth and self-realisation for him and reflects parts of himself that fans and audiences may not be familiar with. However, ever so accurate to himself, he still delivers a body of work that gives you the quality of music we have always come to love.
First of all, congratulations on the new album. We were introduced to the sound of the album with the first two singles, ‘Shana’ and ‘ After Hours’. Why did you feel these were the first songs you wanted people to hear from the album?
Really and truly, those songs tell the album's story perfectly. There are two sides to me, and it fits the whole duplicity theme. One of the songs is really centred on love, and the other is just centred on enjoying life. It aligned well with the project's theme.
The tone of the album has a darker feel than what we have heard from you. So how did we get here?
The whole concept of the album was born out of an argument. So that's really why it feels like that. As an artist, it's very hard for me to express musically without it relating to what's going on in my life. That's what's come out like that, even down to the album cover; it's all dark.
As you were making the songs themselves, did it just transpire that they were all leaning towards a particular sound or theme? Or was it something that just came naturally as you were making the music?
For me, it was just what was happening at the time. It was just what we were creating; I just let it happen, and this is how it happened. This is the first time I've had my album name or the album theme before the project has been done. I had made only two songs before I had the name already. The name usually comes at the end for me; this is the first time it came first, and even then, I wasn't intentional about the mood of the songs. It was just what was coming. It was just how I felt.
Why did you choose Duplicity as the album title?
In the argument I was having. I was called duplicitous, and I didn't know what it meant. And then I went and checked what it meant, found out what it was, and was just like, this is everyone. This is true, maybe I'm a bit duplicitous, but I feel like everyone is to some extent, and I just needed to express that.
As a whole, did you feel like there was any, like, pressure or like, slight hesitation as to what people were going to think about hearing the album because it does feel different from your previous bodies of work, or was it something you were not thinking about?
I don't think that way; I just always assumed that people would accept everything I do. So I don't really think the other way. The only thing I was hesitant about was explaining why my album is the way it is. I'm usually a very private person. I don't really talk about what's really going on in my life, or anything like that. But then I also thought about the kind of person I'm trying to grow to be, which is to be honest and to let people in a bit more, let the fans in a bit more, see my character a bit more, let them kind of see what actually happens in my head.
How did you find that this experience for this project differed from your previous bodies of work? And just like bringing together everything from the artwork, even like the artwork for the singles, how was it?
With this project, when I'm making one, I usually have a bunch of sessions with different producers, you know, and work with different people. But this time, I decided to lock in with junior, who's a producer I've worked with in the past on many records as well. We spent like a month together, first, just chilling, you know, doing things together. And then we locked in for a month again after that to start recording, I just really, really found, like, a synergy with him, where it's like he, he kind of now knows precisely what I want, even when I don't know what I want.
It was just a beautiful experience, also working with Tim Lyre, who's a great artist, great songwriter. He's also good at channelling, channelling me; he knows how to write like me. He's a rapper as well, so he elevates the writing, you know. So when I think about it, this album was actually very intentional. With the visuals as well. It was like watching Peaky Blinders again, before I started working on the album. And that inspired me a lot as well.
You are never shy about collaborating, and there are a few people on the album. So, speak to us about the features and who worked with you on the album?
This project has the fewest number of features I've had on a project. And this is also because I usually make music from a very selfish place, where it's like, I do what I want to hear. Yeah, okay, yeah. But sometimes you listen to what your fans are saying. And there was always the talk about how they wanted to hear more of you on songs, on certain songs. And usually I don't like hearing myself all over the song. So this time, there was only Olamide, Mavo, Obongjayer, ODUMODUBLVCK, Pa Salieu, and SGaWD, and usually, there's only one song that I'm on by myself.
I grew up musically. I started music in a collaborative setting with my group, Dr B, and it was something, something where I'll do the hook, and then these other guys have the verses, or I'll do a verse on a song, or, you know, so that's how, that's how I really started. So from my first project, it was heavily collaborative,
With the music that you started making at the beginning of your career, and what that has evolved to what your sound is now, how do you feel that's changed, from where you were to where you are now? How do you define the music that you make now, as opposed to what we've known you, what you've known, what you've been known for throughout your career?
On a base level, not much has changed like that. Like anything, if you keep doing something over and over, you get better at it. Some of the melodies are stronger. Now the writing is a lot better. Now have the opportunity to work with, like, higher-level producers, you know, just stuff like that. On a base level, the sound is consistent; you know, when you hear a particular type of song, you'll be like, Okay, this, this sounds like something BOJ would be on. I've just gotten so much better at doing it.
Within the sound of what Alté music is and the role that you've played in terms of what that genre is to people, and what people know of that genre when it comes to your music, and just like your impact on the sound. Is that something you often think about in relation to your legacy and everything you have achieved in your career?
First of all, we created that whole slang, that Alté slang. So first of all, that's where it starts. And I think we did, because we started really early, and, like, really young, as I got into this when I was 17, 18, we inspired a whole generation of artists due to our belief in ourselves. We just made other people, other artists, believe they could do something different. When we got in, the media was saying, This can't work here, you know, this is just too different And it really wasn't, everyone is telling us we like this, we like this a lot and then in the same breath, they're saying that we don't think it will work, but, but you're saying you like it, but you think it won't work.
We just believed in ourselves and kept going. We motivated an entire generation and, to some extent, changed the sound in the mainstream, not just with the music, but also the style, the fashion, the music videos. It wasn't like we were doing this at the time, trying to change things. We were doing what we liked and how we felt. That's what Alté expresses freely, without boundaries.
Even doing this as young as you were, what would you say gave you the confidence or the boldness to say, even though this is different, and people haven't done this before, like, I'm just going to go and express the way I do?
It was really about leaving Nigeria, to be honest with you. We went to England really early in secondary school, around year eight. I went to England and did year nine. So those are really formative years, and we're coming from a place where there's a whole lot of rules in everything you do, the way you dress. You have to dress like this. You know, you have to act like this. You have to be a doctor. You have to, you know, that's, that's the world we came from. And then we get exposed to ourselves because we're thrown into boarding schools, and we now have a lot of freedom and autonomy. So you start thinking for yourself, and we did all that. We express in a way, we feel because now we have serious ammunition, because we're coming from the place, from the motherland, which is the actual source of this creativity. And then we now come to the other side, where it just gets refined, you know, and it gets refined, and you have the best of both worlds. And this is what it births.
Even in that sort of expression that went beyond music and was in the fashion and clothes you were wearing, what would you say has been the influences of you know, even from what you've just spoken about, but even throughout your career, and just like throughout the years?
London played a big part in my fashion sense because we saw all sorts of things growing up. We came up in an era of Lil Wayne and Kanye West, and like One Direction, we had all of that, and we also had influences from Nigeria, with the traditional. We would wear dashikis with baggy jeans or skinny jeans, and Converse; traditional outfits with trainers; a suit and trainers, just different shit. So we just mixed everything. And just being around London, there's just some kind of fusion that happened, and that's just what it was. We weren't thinking about the shit deeply; it was just what was naturally coming out of us.
What is this era speaking to where you are in your creativity? How do you feel?
This era represents growth and self-realisation. Even with Duplicity, it's me addressing an issue most people would run from. So it's growth in that sense that's like, Yo, man, okay, what's really going on here? This is something that you have to deal with by yourself, you know. It will help you become a better person when you figure it out. So that's what, that's what this period is for me right now: just in every part of my life, even with like, business-wise, music-wise, relationship-wise, everything-wise, just family-wise. You know, it's just spiritual growth in all aspects. Just trying, just trying in every way to grow, and being intentional about growing.
And what are you looking forward to next, from being in this place and seeing where the next version of where things are, is going?
Right now, I'm looking forward to starting my next project. I'm trying to drop Duplicity and move on to the next thing, and then my Festival, which I do, which has grown wildly over the past two years. So I'm looking forward to this year's edition and just seeing what happens. I don't overthink, I don't let myself think too much; I like living and just going with the flow. You don't know what could happen tomorrow. So you can have all these plans, and then something tragic happens tomorrow. So yeah, just trying to live in the moment and enjoy every minute.
Production Credits:
Photographer: Will Ainsworth @will_ainsworth & Thomas James Morgan @mrtmorgan
Creative Director: Will Ainsworth @will_ainsworth
Project Manager: Zekaria Al-Bostani - @zek.snaps
Producer: Seneo Mwamba @SeneoMwamba
Post Production: Will Ainsworth @will_ainsworth
Photo Assistant: Nana K. Akwaboah: @nanakinq
Production Assistant: Theon Mafuta @1he0n
Grooming: Afsha Kabani @afshaartistry
Styling: Josh T Arimoro @joshtarimoro
Stylist Assistant: Festus Abo @styledbyabo & Bridget A @_afxia
Art Director: Ashleigh Cooper @ashleighcooper_
Design: @ShalemAlone
BTS photographer: Joey Hoang @jhvisuals__
BTS Video: Treyvon Curtis-Crowl @Tspatcho
Writer: Seneo Mwamba @SeneoMwamba
PR: @emerald__east
We recently had the absolute pleasure of covering two days of Leon Thomas's recent press run in New York City. It was a whirlwind victory lap that felt less like a standard promotional tour and more like a coronation. Fresh off the release of his genre-bending EP PHOLKS and leading the R&B field with six nominations for the 2026 Grammy Awards, including Best New Artist and Album of the Year, Thomas is clearly solidifying his status as an enduring artistic force.
Witnessing him move between the intimate, retro allure of Soso's and the raw, streetwear-focused energy of his 40s & Shorties launch, one thing became clear: the way he pairs his sultry sound with that retro yet classic sense of fashion is no accident. It is a carefully curated mood, and it fits him perfectly.
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The run kicked off with a one-night-only experience at Soso's officially dubbed "FOR THE PHOLKS." Hosted at Soso's (and bookable exclusively through DoorDash Reservations), the night was a proper homecoming.
Walking in, the vibe was immediate. Think Los Angeles' Sunset Strip crashing into New York's Studio 54. It had that perfect 70s flair mixed with a really intimate energy. The event was memorable, full of different people, vibes, and smiles, all there for one person. It felt authentic and not forced. Even if you came by yourself, you left with new friends and something to talk about. From the champagne on arrival to the funk-infused sounds, the whole night was a toast to community and creativity. Leon's personal style for the evening was impeccable, perfectly matching that retro-chic energy. He didn't just attend the event; he inhabited it.
The event was a celebration of PHOLKS, a seven-track project released under EZMNY/Motown Records. While many might mistake it for a standard love album on the first listen, it is actually a project about radical self-expression and the honesty of hearing your own intrusive thoughts.
Because Thomas has such an amazing voice, you don't always realize immediately what he is saying, but when you really listen, the delivery is everyday and honest. It reminds me of the 70s: that ability to mask heavy, real emotions in a beautiful groove. Musically, you can hear the influences of Earth, Wind & Fire, the Jackson 5, and Prince, along with touches of P-Funk. It's a sonic blend that feels seamless, bridging the gap between nostalgic soul and modern confession.
In my opinion, Leon shows his true range in how he can live between rock, soul, and R&B. Being able to connect with such a vast audience through that blend is beautiful. He's not just one thing; he's able to live in three different genres seamlessly.
Being an 80s baby myself, I am so grateful to Leon Thomas for bringing back a specific kind of energy. Listening to his music feels like being transported back to a more colorful era. Think great big Afros, bell-bottom pants (even though those are making a comeback), and people genuinely dancing in clubs. It feels like a modern take on the records my mom played when I was a child. It's beautiful because it strikes a perfect balance: retro yet modern, driven by his specific delivery. His style is honestly genius. You rarely see an artist infuse different genres and time periods this effortlessly.
On the second night, the energy shifted from the retro soul of Soso's to the "Essex" collection preview with 40s & Shorties. This event marked the release of a limited capsule collection designed to coincide with the EP.
Much like his music, the collection is deeply layered. It features graphic tees, a unique triple-zipper hoodie, and a standout hand-textured boro-style jacket. Leon described the collaboration as an exercise in instinct: "We wanted to build pieces that feel lived in, expressive, and honest, the same way the songs on PHOLKS came together."
Adem Niazi, co-owner of 40s & Shorties, noted that the clothing mirrors Leon's personal evolution. "Listening to PHOLKS, you could hear the layering: the rock, the soul, the funk," Niazi explained. "We decided to make garments that reflected that, natural yet experimental."
Watching Leon Thomas navigate these two distinct worlds, high-fashion streetwear and retro soul, it is hard to believe this is the same person known to many as a child actor on Broadway (The Lion King, The Color Purple) or a Nickelodeon star on Victorious.
His transition has been nothing short of remarkable. After years of shaping the sound of industry titans like Drake ("Love All") and SZA ("Snooze"), Thomas has successfully reintroduced himself as a boundary-pushing solo artist. With PHOLKS, he has proven that his sultry sounds and classic fashion are not just an aesthetic, but the authentic expression of an artist who has truly found his voice. The PHOLKS era is a masterclass in artistic evolution, and if these two nights in NYC were any indication, Leon Thomas isn't just having a moment. He's building a legacy.
Photographs from Pholks event by Jelani Warner @Warners_work
Photographs from Essex event by Ethan Lopez @ethanfbaby
Where do I even begin?
We live in a time where, frankly, a lot of the music is about nothing. It has become background noise for parties, dancing around something mindless in a world where we desperately need our minds to be engaged. We need to see life clearly. As I get older, my search for music has shifted. I'm no longer just looking for a beat to distract me; I'm searching for music that makes me feel something. In a world filled with so much craziness and sadness, I want an escape, but I also want a connection. I want something positive, something I can be hopeful for.
Finally, Wale has delivered exactly that. His new album, Everything Is A Lot, is everything and more. In an era of singles and skippable tracks, I don't know many albums you can play from start to finish without reaching for your phone. This is most definitely one of the rare exceptions. You can feel the intentionality from the very first song to the second. It makes me reflect on how being intentional is the only way to truly impact and connect with an audience, and to gain a new audience simply by being amazing at what you do.
It takes a special listener to truly hear this, to understand the levels and complexity of putting together a stellar album. To hit every single emotion that a person could feel over a lifetime in one project is pure genius.
An artist like Wale is extremely intentional with every line, song choice, melody, sample, and even his features. A perfect example is the song "Big Head" featuring ODUMODUBLVCK. This collaboration feels incredibly purposeful. Wale, who is Nigerian-American, bridges the gap between two worlds. Growing up in America with Nigerian heritage myself, I found this track profound. It always seemed as if you had to be either African-American or African, that there was no connection between the two. For a long time, it felt like society tried very hard to obscure our identity. When you take away someone's culture, you inevitably affect their identity.
There was a recent interview where Wale's African identity was brought into question. I don't know if that conversation happened before or after this song was recorded, but I find it very interesting, and powerful, that he decided to include a track that so boldly highlights his lineage. It serves as a reminder that just because someone may not have been born on the soil, they are still very much of the culture. He is still very much Nigerian.
He doubles down on this intentionality on the track "YSF," featuring Teni & Seyi Vibez. Here, I feel as if he got even deeper into his artistic bag by using Nigerian slang, specifically adding the "O" at the end of each line. In Nigerian culture, the terminal "O" acts as an audible punctuation mark that amplifies the emotional weight of a statement, signaling emphasis, urgency, or warmth depending on the context. In my opinion, this is a clear statement to let people know, as well as his audience, that "I am of the culture and I understand the language."
The production itself mirrors this journey of self-discovery. The transition in melody throughout the music almost acts like a pause or a reset button to help you regain focus. A lot of times in life, we are trying to do better and learn more, but we get distracted and thrown off track. The way the music and melody change here brings you back to center, reminding you of what you are trying to achieve. I'll admit it: I'm a lover girl at heart, so I naturally gravitated toward the tracks that speak to that side of me. "City on Fire" and "Watching Us" instantly became my favorites. There is something deeply nostalgic about "Watching Us." The moment the sample hit, it took me right back to a specific time and place. I could vividly see the room I was in; I could feel the exact emotions I was grappling with back then.
But beyond the romance and nostalgia, there is a raw humanity here that we rarely see. Before I started working with celebrities, I used to think they were superhuman, that they had no real emotions and every day was a great day. I've learned that celebrities are people, too. They laugh, they cry, and they enjoy life. The difference is the enormous pressure they are under. They have people staring at them, critiquing their lives every day, and holding an expectation that they must always be happy. What makes an artist like Wale so impactful is that he has found a way to be authentically himself while navigating that pressure. Often, as long as a creator is creating, no one really asks if they are okay. But in this music, you can see the full complexity of his life.
He is extremely honest and vulnerable, particularly on the song "Blanco." He talks about drowning his sorrows, touching on the unfortunate reality of the music industry where alcohol is often used to dull inhibitions or force a good time. He speaks on people "joining his section," highlighting how sad it is that people often use others just to be part of the mix, a fleeting sense of belonging. He also touches on being nervous and vulnerable in love. We often say that men have to be hard and tough, but this album shines a light on how men actually think. It proves that this album isn't just for men; his music is for everybody, because these are emotions everyone has felt at some point in their lives.
There is a heavy reality to the song "Power and Problems." It's an inside look at what artists experience: the stress of fame and the people who might exploit you. But even a regular person can understand the need to question someone's motives and the necessity of protecting your energy, your legacy, and what you are building. The saying "to whom much is given, much is expected" is a very real thing. Being multifaceted comes with a tremendous responsibility. Being extraordinary is a gift, but it is also a heavy cross and burden to carry, especially when you are sometimes still figuring yourself out while others see your potential before you do. That is why the people around you during your healing stages are so crucial.
Fittingly, the album ends with the song "Lonely." On first glance, reading the title, I assumed it was ending on a low note, a confession of isolation. But actually, it's not that at all. It is a profound realization. It is the understanding that "I would rather be lonely outside," meaning standing apart in an industry where there aren't a lot of people like me. It is a declaration that he is totally okay in his own space. He has done the work. Even though it's hard, there is too much at stake to settle for anything less. To end on that note was brilliant. Well done.
The title, Everything Is A Lot, makes complete sense to me. The world is heavy right now. We are constantly overstimulated. This album acknowledges that weight but offers us a place to set it down for a while. It is a reminder that even when everything is "a lot," there is still beauty to be found in the intentionality of art.
Most contemporary African art circulating in global galleries speaks the language of spectacle, bold, immediate, designed to translate across cultures in a single glance. Modou Gueye's work operates differently. The Senegalese painter builds his canvases around nattes, a Wolof word that refers to both the woven floor mats that anchor Senegalese domestic life and the intricate braided hairstyles passed down through generations of women's hands. These are objects and gestures so embedded in everyday experience they risk becoming invisible, yet Gueye insists they contain entire archives of memory, identity, and care.
Against vibrant geometric backgrounds that pulse with color, tessellated patterns in orange, purple, yellow, blue his subjects emerge with quiet dignity. A woman holding flowers. Two figures in yellow and purple, their hands gently framing each other's faces. A young girl on a swing, surrounded by the same patterns that might appear on a mat beneath her feet or woven into her hair. The repetition isn't decorative. It's structural, a visual argument that the textures of childhood and the architecture of culture are inseparable.
In Les nattes de mon enfance (The Mats of My Childhood), Gueye positions these everyday acts, the laying out of mats for family gatherings, the patient braiding of hair, as foundational cultural labor, mostly performed by women, mostly unacknowledged. His project doesn't romanticize this labor. It makes visible what Western art institutions have long treated as background, insisting that the spaces where culture is actually built deserve the same attention as the monuments it produces.
This is art as cultural reclamation, but also as intimate reckoning. Gueye paints from memory, which means he paints from love.
Can you introduce yourself and tell us a little about who you are as an artist?
My name is Modou Gueye and I am a Senegalese painter whose work is deeply rooted in memory, childhood, and the quiet strength of my cultural heritage. I grew up surrounded by nattes, both the woven floor mats on which life unfolded, and the braided hairstyles that marked moments of care, identity and belonging.
Today, my art reinterprets these nattes not just as objects or hairstyles, but as living archives of African memory, places where emotions, traditions and stories intertwine. Through color and texture, I try to reconnect the intimate spaces of my upbringing with a contemporary visual language.
What inspired this piece or project?
My project "Les nattes de mon enfance" was born from a need to honor the emotional foundations that shaped me. The woven floor mats of my childhood were more than surfaces: they were social territories, places where families gathered, shared, prayed, argued, dreamed.
And the braided hairstyles of the women around me were equally powerful symbols of beauty, patience, continuity and care. Both forms of braiding taught me the same lesson: Identity is something we weave, thread by thread. This project is my way of bringing those textures, gestures and memories back to life.
What themes or messages do you explore through your work?
I explore themes of memory, identity, resilience, and the intimate architecture of African life. The mat and the braid become metaphors of how we connect:
- How our lives intertwine,
- How our stories are transmitted,
- How beauty emerges from repetition and patience.
Through vibrant colors and layered compositions, I reflect on heritage, belonging, and the emotional spaces where culture is silently built, often by women whose hands shape the community.
How does your art connect to action or change?
My art seeks to recenter the everyday objects and gestures of African culture, which have often been overlooked or reduced to decoration.
By putting nattes, both the mats and the braids, at the heart of my compositions, I challenge the world to acknowledge their symbolic weight.
It is a way to say: Our domestic spaces matter, our aesthetics matter, our stories matter. This is my contribution to cultural recognition and the preservation of intangible heritage.
Why is it important for you to create art with meaning or impact?
Because art carries memory. And memory shapes identity. Creating meaningful art allows me to protect what could be forgotten, the textures of childhood, the gestures that transmit love, the beauty found in the simplest moments. I want my paintings to act like quiet reminders that African heritage is not only majestic but also profoundly intimate.
Can you share a moment or experience that shaped you as an artist?
I remember sitting on a woven mat next to my grandmother, watching her braid a young girl's hair. The rhythm of her fingers, the softness of the movements, the stories she told while working, those moments taught me everything about patience, dedication and transmission. That day, I understood that creation is an act of care. That memory still guides my art today.
What do you want people to know about you beyond your art?
Beyond my paintings, I am a man who values silence, humility and human connection. I believe in observing deeply, listening carefully and honoring the invisible work that shapes communities, especially the hands that braid hair, weave mats and weave life. My art is not nostalgia. It is a bridge between generations, between memories, between worlds.
We’ve waded through endless tulle and storms of sequins this week. But beneath the spectacle, what we really saw was a lesson in storytelling.
As 'Wicked' finally arrives in theaters globally this month, the fashion world is taking a collective breath after witnessing perhaps the most committed, protracted, and thematically rigorous press tour in modern Hollywood history. For nearly a year, Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande haven't just promoted a movie; they have inhabited a visual universe, turning every premiere and photo call into a live-action extension of Oz.
While method dressing, actors dressing in character on the red carpet had become the new normal ever since the 'Barbie' press tour of 2023, Erivo and Grande have elevated the concept into high art. They moved beyond mere cosplay into a sophisticated exploration of duality, using couture to map the emotional landscapes of their characters.
The Glinda Aesthetic: Archival Sweetness
Ariana Grande’s approach to Glinda the Good Witch was an exercise in disciplined etherealism. Guided by "Image Architect" Law Roach, her wardrobe was a deliberate rejection of the modern, leaning heavily into archival pieces that evoked a timeless, almost fairy-tale quality.
Her look was never just pink. It was bubblegum, blush, rose, and icy pastel, rendered in textures that defied gravity. The defining moment of the tour was the reliance on vintage, specifically an archival Givenchy (from the Alexander McQueen era) worn in Paris. It was a high-fashion flex that signaled this wasn't just costuming; it was fashion history.
Whether in custom Balenciaga or Giambattista Valli, the silhouettes were vast. Giant pannier skirts, enormous rosettes, and cloud-like tulle served to make Grande look diminutive, fragile, and almost untouchable, a perfect visual metaphor for Glinda's bubble-bound existence.
The Elphaba Aesthetic: Architectural Strength
If Grande was the cloud, Cynthia Erivo was the lightning bolt.
Styled by Jason Bolden, Erivo’s challenge was greater: How do you evoke the Wicked Witch of the West without resorting to Halloween clichés? The answer lay in structure, severe tailoring, and a color palette that moved beyond literal green into deep emeralds, onyx, and metallics.
Erivo utilized her athleticism to carry clothes that would swallow a lesser presence. The focus was on imposing shoulders and architectural shapes. The custom Louis Vuitton looks she favored throughout the tour used heavy fabrics and sharp lines to create armor, suggesting Elphaba’s defensive exterior. Instead of pointed hats, Bolden utilized avant-garde headwear and aggressive accessories, particularly with a custom Dior look in Mexico City, a black, hooded gown that felt monastic yet threatening.
The Visual Duet
The genius of the 'Wicked' press tour was not in the individual looks, impressive as they were, but in their juxtaposition. Erivo and Grande rarely matched; they counterbalanced. When they stood together on a red carpet, they created a vibrating visual tension representing the film's central conflict.
As the lyrics to the film's opening number suggest, "No one mourns the wicked," but in the case of this press tour, everyone will mourn the end of these red-carpet moments. They didn't just wear beautiful clothes; they used fashion to build a yellow brick road straight to the box office.
Uzo Njoku, a Nigerian-born visual artist, holds a B.A. in studio art from the University of Virginia. She was also an MFA candidate at the New York Academy of Art. Her art is reminiscent of African heritage, particularly Nigerian culture. Her versatile skill set majorly presides on the creation of functional art. The pieces she makes are often replicable pieces of digital art, which are made into patterns and printed onto fabric, wallpapers, kitchenware, and signage. She has worked with several brands like Apple, Tommy Hilfiger, and Yves Saint Laurent.
Uzo started exhibiting her work in 2020, with group and solo shows in the United States and across Asia. In the second quarter of 2025, she announced plans to host her first African solo exhibition, Owambe, as her way of paying homage to her Nigerian roots. This admirable feat was made public after several months of planning, and personal funding. Despite her transparency concerning the exhibition planning, sponsorship, and aim, she received a fierce rebuttal, notably on Twitter, now known as X.
Digital mobs are a common phenomenon in the virtual space, mostly on social media platforms. They are inevitably formed when certain parties decide to influence the masses to follow their train of thought, often at the expense of another individual/group.
In Uzo’s case, she was accused of appropriating Yoruba culture for personal gain as a person of Igbo descent. Her work often involves the use of symbols, and she was accused of mixing Igbo with Yoruba signs and intentionally misspelling Owanbe as Owambe, claiming that the original spelling is the former.
The major force behind this virtual injunction was the Yoruba Progressive Elites Forum (YPEF), a group claiming to protect the Yoruba culture from expropriation. Other parties with the same interest fanned the flames of this discourse, garnering support with votes on a petition to stop the show’s hosting in Lagos as originally intended. This cause was further backed by legal claims and cultural interference by some traditional title holders indigenous to Lagos.
Despite the constant vitriol Uzo received, she continued to provide publicity for her work, engaging with the positive feedback and collaboration requests she received on X. She also doubled down on spreading accurate information about her intentions with the show, using her social media pages and eventual news platforms provided. In the spirit of making her exhibition every bit Nigerian, she introduced interactive measures to create an immersive experience for visitors.
The fabric she made especially for the show, dubbed "Government of the People," was sold on her website weeks before the show opening, alongside potential outfit designs. This spurred the interest of many art lovers and individuals who naturally grew curious about her tenacity in the face of such menacing threats. On the set day, Uzo’s Owambe opened at a set location in Ikoyi, Lagos, with daily viewings set at UzoArt NG, Victoria Island, Lagos. Visitors came adorned in dresses made with the theme fabric. They had interactive sessions, including a draw-and-paint segment.
The show opening was a success, and testimonials from visitors attested to this fact. However, the malicious crusade did not cease. Some individuals clowned the event, mocking its simplicity and coterie. In her characteristic manner, she pointed out the reasons for it. The mechanism of these organized attacks pointed to a larger plot, alien to Uzo’s attempt to honor her roots through art. The socio-political sphere of the Nigerian-X (Twitter) community has been rife with tribalistic comments and bigoted acts, with the overarching aim of placing one tribe above the other.
Owambe is beyond an art show. It speaks to the artist’s vision to document Lagos’ vibrant culture through art. It also reflects her determination to create and inspire beyond the unexpected obstacles she encountered.
Growing up in an Angolan-Congolese household in South London, it’s hard to say which impacted Ceebo more, but the truth is you can hear the influence of both in his latest release, ‘Blair Babies’. The project covers the political reality of the generation born in the UK between 1997 and 2007, which, for anyone unfamiliar with British politics: the years Tony Blair served as Prime Minister of the UK. Since its invention decades ago, rap has always been a medium for criticising the conventional narrative and resisting against ‘the man,’ and Ceebo carries this torch forward, focusing on postcolonial London and the institutions that continue to stand against the latest generation to come of age.
Ceebo began recording music in 2019 but has been rapping since his playground days in secondary school, rapping cyphers with his friends in between classes. Following school, he attended Warwick University, graduating in 2024 with a degree in politics and sociology. This extended education allowed Ceebo to really develop his artistic voice alongside his academic foundations. This gives him a unique position in UK rap in his ability to address social issues from not only a position of lived experience but also of highly sophisticated education and nuanced understanding, leading to incredibly well-rounded projects. This was shown clearly in his first two major releases, ‘Bluquet’ in 2023 and ‘LAMBETHNOTLA’ the following year. This garnered him a cult following in the UK underground scene, all waiting with bated breath for his next album as hype built and built. Now 23, ‘Blair Babies’ comes at a very important moment in his career.
“Being Gen Z is engendered by a feeling of hopelessness in the face of a world built and shaped before our input.” Ceebo asserts in the spoken word opening track, preluding the album with an explanation of his intent. The decision to set the tone by breaking the barrier between artist and listener plants the narrative seeds of this album and shows his seriousness on the topic, establishing clarity and not just wanting the songs to speak for themselves where a message may have been lost. Following the monologue, we begin to roll through this beautiful sonic environment which is so far removed from the bleak message Ceebo was giving.
This angelic movement quickly slides us into the first proper song of the album ‘captain roscoe with a crossbow’. Instead of his now-familiar voice, we are greeted with another familiar voice, a flip from Dizzee Rascal’s ‘Brand New Day’, the fourth track on 2003’s ‘Boy In Da Corner.’ The choice is not random. ‘Boy In Da Corner’ is a cornerstone album in UK rap history and certainly one most kids from London would have grown up with. Furthermore, the track ‘Brand New Day’ is certainly more on the conscious side of Dizzee’s usual braggadocio, and he uses the track to speak on very similar topics to that of this album, an unfiltered representation of spending your youth in London. By interpolating this track, Ceebo is acknowledging the musical shoulders he is standing on while also highlighting how little has changed in the decades since ‘Boy In Da Corner.’ It is a fantastic way to work both of these things in before even beginning to rap himself and shows how conscious Ceebo is with each track on this album.
Not every song sits lowly in the problems of London and ‘buzzball summer’ is suited to a South London motive in mid-July, with production reminiscent of past British hits from the likes of Dave and J Hus. Being held in comparison to these megastars is nothing if not a compliment. The next song, ‘Pentecost of Living,’ with its beautiful beat juxtaposing brutally authentic lyrics, draws comparison to a new generation South London starboy, Jim Legxacy, who actually had a hand in the production. This exciting collaboration is so obvious and cohesive, it only generates hope for more from this pair in the future.
The narrative chain holding this album together through various beat switches and vibe changes is true authenticity, and Ceebo is seemingly unphased about the idea of being utterly vulnerable. He uses songs like ‘the gospel (according to Tony Blair)’ and ‘always’ to convey this concept of a “Blair baby” to its fullest extent, with all the hopelessness and wasted potential that comes hand in hand with it. He doesn’t just say it himself; he even uses Blair’s own voice to underline how absurd the whole situation is. Hearing the voice of the man whose policies shaped so much of this landscape echo through an album about generational fallout makes the disconnect hard to ignore. It is almost surreal. The same political era that promised opportunity ended up producing conditions that boxed in so many young black men, and Ceebo does not want to hide this.
Not only defined by his strong political standpoint, Ceebo does prove his rapping ability on this album to great success. Songs like ‘018’ and ‘jook’ both have the feeling of an instant hit, the latter especially. With its smooth beat and punchy hook, it instantly conjures the idea of being performed live to a screaming crowd.
The final track, ‘Ceebo 3:16’ cements his message, with another monologue speaking on the problems faced by those in the UK now: racial tensions, cost of living, and numbing ourselves to what we have to overcome. Ceebo’s eloquent speech in both critical examination and political calls to action works well to undermine the excerpt of Blair we heard midway through the album. It completely resists the often conventional narratives surrounding young black men in London and instead pushes agency over fear. Blair had tried to define that generation during his leadership, and Ceebo aims to finally talk back, reclaiming his own narrative.
It’s very easy to give an album high acclaim if it holds a socially conscious political viewpoint because of its inherent moral validity. Ceebo goes far beyond this with ‘Blair Babies,’ producing a body of work both entrenched in strong progressive politics and also a richly produced and compelling sound. His authentic voice remains true throughout, and the effect of this is a cohesive and striking message, and all the while you want to move your body or at the very least bop your head slightly. On a first listen of Jim Legxacy’s ‘black british music (2025)’ earlier this year, I was excited at the prospect of a movement in which more artists join his cause of genuine, exciting representation of being British and what it means to feel hopeful in a time of great tension in the country. I asked who would be next, who would follow Jim forward? Ceebo has answered me.
The curtains closed on the 14th edition of the African International Film Festival (AFRIFF) and the 1st edition of the African Film and Content Market (AFCM), which took place from November 2nd to 8th, 2025. For one week, filmmakers, actors, and film lovers filled the city with stories. There were red carpets, panels that ran too long, screenings that started too late, and moments that reminded everyone why African cinema is worth fighting for.
Photo by: afriff
The fourteenth edition unfolded under the theme “Rhythms of the Continent: The Afrobeats Film Movement,” a bold declaration that African cinema, like its music, is learning to speak a universal language that’s unmistakably its own. The festival opened with ‘3 Cold Dishes’, a revenge thriller directed by Asurf Oluseyi, and closed with Flavour’s ‘Afroculture’, a documentary celebrating African music’s global reach, proving that film in Africa has transcended pure entertainment and now touches economy, identity, and power. Beyond the glamour and celebrity sightings, AFRIFF 2025 was a mirror held up to the state of African storytelling, reflecting its promise, politics, and persistent imperfections. The festival introduced the African Film and Content Market (AFCM), which ran from November 3 to 6, an ambitious platform that’s designed to bridge the gap between art and industry. The introduction was a statement of intent that African filmmakers no longer wish to be seen as participants in a global market but as owners of one. There were panels on distributions, co-production, and monetisation, signalling a growing recognition that storytelling has become both cultural currency and economic power.
Yet, the week was not without turbulence. Screenings were marred by technical issues and organisational lapses. Some filmmakers expressed disappointment over film selections that felt uneven, and audiences left certain venues mid-show. But perhaps this, too, is a part of the language AFRIFF is learning – the struggle of a young industry trying to professionalise while holding on to its authenticity. Beyond the logistics, AFRIFF 2025 showcased the soul of African filmmaking. Films like ‘The Fisherman’ by Zoey Martinson, ‘To Adaego with Love’ by Nwamaka Chikezie, ‘Pasa Faho’ by Kalu Oji, and ‘Tokyo Girl’ by Adele Vuko reminded audiences that African cinema is not one-dimensional. These stories explored everything from migration and love to faith and survival, weaving local truths into universal emotions.
At a masterclass on storytelling, Yinka Ogun remarked that African filmmakers must “learn to speak their truth in a language the world understands”. It begged a larger question that was hanging over the festival: “What does authenticity mean in a globalized industry?”. Global interest in African narratives has grown, but so have fears of dilution and of stories being shaped to fit Western appetites. Yet, what stood out at AFRIFF was how many filmmakers are now consciously resisting that pull. The festival’s new focus on markets, panels, and awards reflects a broader transformation in African cinema. African filmmakers are no longer waiting for global recognition and are now building the platforms, negotiating deals, and defining their own terms. AFRIFF is now as much about strategy as it is about creativity, showing that African cinema is claiming its space both culturally and commercially. The Afrobeats panel was a deliberate one because, just as music carried Africa to the world, cinema seems poised to do the same.
Photo by: @JoeyAkan/X(Formerly Twitter)
AFRIFF 2025 wasn't without fault, but the festival's new focus on markets reflects a broader transformation in African cinema. At the closing night at Landmark Center, the air was replete with hope for the future of African cinema. And while the festival may have stumbled in execution, it succeeded in something more meaningful, which is, African storytelling is entering a new phase.
Owekitibwa Nuwa Wamala Nnyanzi, speaking at a Kuonyesha Art Fund event, had warned, “Be very careful about what you're reporting…it is the first call when looking at history.” Though aimed at newspaper journalists and ‘media people,’ his admonition is relevant in discussing the influence of creative expression on culture and ultimately historical representation.
Recently, online reactions to singer-songwriter Olivia Dean’s music and her modest aesthetic sparked widespread praise, with commenters calling her a “breath of fresh air.” One user in response to a critic calling her music “boring” wrote, “they are used to nonsensical lyrics, auto tune and oversexualization. That’s what they call exciting.”
If such sentiment reflects the broader cultural mood, it raises a pressing question: have contemporary creatives, entrusted with articulating the public’s minds and in turn documenting history, grown careless about their role in shaping culture and history, and what would it take to restore creative work to its former glory?
Creativity, the interplay between originality and usefulness, impacts culture in complex ways. It functions not just as expression but as a moral act that influences how identity, experience, and history are understood.
This dynamic is clear in works like Burna Boy’s ‘Collateral Damage,’ which entertains yet also operates as transnational protest because listeners recognise their lived realities within it. With this, creativity becomes both a mirror and a catalyst.
African artists have long understood this dual role. Ken Nwadiogbu’s “recreating his realities” and similar practices across Uganda, Ghana, Kenya and Nigeria show art as cultural intervention, not just mere self-expression.
Yet, a growing cultural fatigue suggests creativity is slipping into moral ambivalence; as Chiara Palazzolo argues, art is never “extra-moral,” and neglecting this responsibility can normalize harm or reinforce stereotypes.
The Olivia Dean moment on TikTok underscores this. Audiences celebrate her artistic intentionality not only for its beauty but for its contrast to what they perceive as excess and moral erosion, revealing a renewed appetite for art that is not just skilful, but ethically grounded.
Olivia Dean for Vogue 2025
Culture and creativity exist in a feedback loop. When artists create, they contribute to the cultural environment; when culture shifts, it in turn reshapes artistic output. This mutual influence can elevate society, but it can also usher in harm when left unchecked.
Across Nigeria and the African diaspora, the loop’s effects are unmistakable. Nollywood molds ideas of romance, gender roles, and success/socioeconomic aspirations.
Afrobeats heavily influences fashion, language, and identity politics. Social media skits often slip from satire into stereotyping, normalizing biases.
The pattern is simple: people mirror what they consume, and creatives, because of their visibility, shape far more than they intend.
Collective ethical creativity, therefore, becomes crucial. Not for censorship, but for awareness that art helps form public consciousness. Works like Falz’s ‘This Is Nigeria’ or Fafunwa’s theatre prove that creativity can challenge norms, expose truth, and reimagine values.
But when creators prioritise virality, shock, or profit without regard for consequence, culture pays the price. The “downward slope” audiences lament is less about aesthetic decline and more about the erosion of the ethical imagination that once anchored African art.
Restoration is not a call for nostalgia but for responsibility. The aim is not to restrict creativity, but to ground it in the awareness that artistic work shapes a society’s moral architecture.
A renewed creative culture would require:
The goal is not to return to the past but to reclaim the principle that made past creative work impactful: art that is both free and responsible.
Returning to Nnyanzi’s warning, the question posed earlier can now be answered. Yes, creatives often underestimate the cultural and moral weight of their work, yet audience pushback shows that restoring artistic integrity requires recognizing creative expression not as mere entertainment but as cultural authorship that must be handled with care.
People, as a result of living, inevitably face the consequences of being life’s actors. We see this manifest as individuals and more importantly, in our interactions as a collective. Though some of these consequences are beyond our control, others, like politics and power, come from our own making.
Admittedly, the tune that politics plays is one that everyday people in culture have learnt to dance to. Moving to the rhythm, they speak up in challenge or support of motions that are in their favour, choosing sides that align with their values and lashing out when politics and power struggles seem to be taking more from them than they are willing to give.
Yet, some actors have removed themselves from the dance altogether.
It is not unprecedented to see African creatives today show little concern to questions of social and political justice. As rapper, Tobechukwu Melvin Ejiofor, popularly known as Illbliss, put it, “there’s a huge percentage of the artistic industry that has basically turned their backs on what’s happening in Nigeria.”
Similar criticism echoed beyond Nigeria as fans called out Ugandan musicians for staying silent during a national protest, accusing them of “playing safe” at a time when voices mattered most.
On social media, frustrations often target stars like Burna Boy, whose global platform contrasts sharply with their domestic quiet.
These moments reveal a widening gap between celebrity and citizenship; a gap once bridged by the politically conscious art of the #EndSARS generation.
Mr Macaroni, aka Adebowale Adedayo, and Falz the bahd guy, aka Folarin Falana leading peace walk to commemorate #EndSARS 3rd anniversary
Silence, theoretically, is viewed by Western and European scholars as ambivalent. It can take the form of resistance and power, but contextually, silence is evidently seen here as cultural dissociation and cowardice; a slow disintegration of culture.
When creatives, whose work shapes collective consciousness, withdraw into silence, culture itself begins to reverberate with emptiness. Art then loses its urgent ability to reflect the people’s pulse. In societies where creative voices once stood as the conscience of the people, this withdrawal feels like betrayal.
It is apparent today that African art has long lost the language of dissent.
From Fela’s revolutionary sounds and Chinua Achebe’s writings in challenge of colonialism to Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s prison writings, and many others, the fire that was once kindled against political and social injustice has slowly died out.
Truthfully, turning away from politics now is forgetting that our most resonant art was born from struggle, not silence.
Audre Lorde’s ‘Your Silence Will Not Protect You,’ and her insistence that refusing to speak out against injustice is itself a form of complicity, feels especially relevant today.
The attitude to keep silent as Illbliss noted, “…for reasons best known to them…”, signals to all who understand the impact of art on culture and society; of the creatives’ disturbing disinterest in anything beyond their art. This distances the creatives from their audience, eroding their moral connection and cultural relevance.
It is important for creatives to remember that in the context of culture's moral voice, the issues they contribute their voices to are equally, if not more, important than the art they create.
African creatives must return to the truth that art is not just expression but also advocacy. The microphone, the camera, the brush, the stage all stand as tools for witness.
And perhaps the question is not whether creatives should speak, but whether they can afford not to because the real risk lies not in speaking up, but in saying nothing at all.
In many Northern and Middle Belt communities, marriage is not just two people joining—it’s families, histories, and everyday rituals intertwining, and hidden inside this tradition is one of the most beautiful cultural practices: Kwallas—the set of plates, enamel bowls, pots, kettles, and household wares presented to a bride as she begins her new home.
To an outsider, Kwallas may look like simple kitchen items stacked in bright colours. But within the culture, they are symbols of identity, readiness, womanhood, and the quiet pride of a family sending their daughter into a new chapter.
Kwallas are not luxury items. They are not meant for show. They are the tools of daily living—the bowls she will cook with, the trays she will serve with, and the pots she will host with.
Each piece is a message:
“May your home never lack.”
“May your hands build warmth.”
“May your marriage be filled with abundance.”
They are functional blessings disguised as household goods.
Even though Kwallas now fill bustling markets, their making still carries the spirit of handcraft. The process depends on the type—enamel bowls, aluminum pots, trays—but the heart of it remains the same: skill, heat, and patience.
For aluminium Kwallas, metalworkers melt raw aluminium scrap or factory-grade sheets in a high-heat furnace. The molten metal is poured into circular moulds, cooled, and then shaped by hand or with spinning machines to form pots, covers, or trays.
Every curve comes from repeated hammering, smoothing and reshaping — a rhythm passed down through generations of northern metalworkers.
Enamelware starts with thin steel sheets. Artisans cut and press the sheets into the shape of bowls or plates. The edges are trimmed and curled for strength, because enamel needs a sturdy frame to cling to.
This is the magic part.
A powdered glass coating — the enamel — is applied to the steel surface. The bowl is then placed inside a kiln where extremely high heat melts the powder into a smooth, glossy finish.
This is why older enamel Kwallas last for decades: the colour is literally baked into the metal.
The floral and geometric designs that brides love aren’t random. Some are sprayed through metal stencils. Some are hand-painted.
Some are screen-printed in layers, each layer baked separately to seal the colours. Each flower is a small act of artistry—a nod to the bright, expressive aesthetics of Northern culture.
After firing, each item is polished until it gleams. Lids are fitted, handles attached, and sets carefully arranged according to size — from the largest pot at the bottom to the smallest bowl at the top.
This is the arrangement brides and mothers instantly recognize at the market.
Kwallas come in vibrant enamel patterns and aluminum shine—bold florals, bright stripes, and polished silver. Choosing them is an event.
Mothers, aunties, sisters, and neighbours gather around the stack, debating quality, colours and what each piece “says” about a bride’s new beginning.
When a bride arrives at her new home, her Kwallas follow. The enamel bowls tell the story of a mother who didn’t send her daughter empty-handed. The pots speak of a family that believes in preparation. The trays reflect the hospitality her culture prizes.
Kwallas today sit beside modern sets—non-stick cookware, glassware, and kettles. But the symbolism survives: a bride enters marriage with hands equipped for warmth, hosting, and building.
Kwallas remind us that culture lives in the ordinary. Not just in ceremonies, but in daily rituals—in how we cook, serve, host, and nurture.
They are a love letter from one generation of women to the next, a reminder that a new home begins with the things that sustain life.
When you press play on "Favourite Girl", the infectious beat gets you immediately. A year on since its release, the familiar sound of the Jamaican instrumental "Diwali Riddim" in the intro, which is sampled on the track, already sets dancefloors and any vibe before Darkoo ushers in the song's verse. The song itself and its remix, featuring Afrobeats superstar Rema, marked a new chapter in Darkoo's journey, inspired by her love for early-2000s music and Caribbean sounds.
The song is unlike anything she has released. Taking the "Diwali Riddim" was a task in itself, considering the number of songs that have used that iconic beat since its release back in 2002. "For me, Diwali Riddim is one of the most iconic jungle rhythms. Taking a cue from how the Jamaicans and the Caribbeans do it: they have a beat, then loads of people jump on it, and they all go viral together. It was exciting for me to jump on such an iconic beat and sound," she shared about using the sound. However, for her, it was not about changing what people already recognise in the sound, but more about making it her own and bringing her own feel and vibe to the song. "My team and I—the writers—and all of us who worked on it were able to bring that to life.
Even in the production, we added many elements to make it feel newer and fresher. You can't change such an iconic beat, so we just added some stuff to give it that extra splash." It was following this song and its follow-up single, "Right Now", which features Davido, that it became very clear what she wanted her sound to be for the EP. "I knew where I was going; I was very much in love with that early-2000s sound. That's all I listened to personally in my own playlist; it was mostly records from like 2000 to 2010. I was listening to the kind of music I wanted to make, and I wanted to write." She shares about the sonic inspiration of the EP.
From taking "Diwali Riddim" on Favourite Girl" to taking P-Square's Gimme Dat on "Focus One Me (All The Sexy Girls)", even taking that song and creating what she did felt like a full circle moment for he, it being one of the songs she grew up on. "That was definitely a record I grew up listening to while living in Nigeria. That was a full-circle moment, being able to sample that record, knowing that I literally grew up listening to it as a little kid." How her inspirations have presented themselves in this project is something you can hear as you play through the project. "It started in the studio, working and educating ourselves and falling in love with the early 2000s, and then realising that this is the kind of music we want to make. So we just decided to go in and go wild with it, creating our own vibe and styles." The results, which included a body of work that felt sonically unique and different from Darkoo's, who has been pursuing music since the age of 15.
It was not until 2019, with the release of her single "Gangsta" featuring One Acen, that her talent was showcased to the level that earned her three MOBO Award nominations. Fast forward almost a decade, and she took home the MOBO Award for Best Female Act as well as Song of the Year for Favourite Girl. Complete with a headline show at London's KOKO and taking the stage at Wireless Festival over the summer this year, has really felt like a celebration at this point in her career.
This moment in time has marked a shift in her artistry, not just sonically but across her creativity as a whole, from her MOBO Award performance to her sold-out show to all that we've seen of her over the past year. And as with anything, it is not just a matter of pure luck and good vibes. There has been a lot at play when it comes to the trials and tribulations that have been a part of Darkoo's journey. The artist's journey is never rainbows and daisies for anyone. For her, it has come with a variety of things, like experiencing depression and navigating her mental health journey, as well as being signed to a major label and then going independent. These are all the things that have taught her how to sustain and continue her journey. "I've taught myself a lot of patience and resilience. Every artist needs to have that. At the beginning, when things don't work out for you, you tend to give up, get tired, and get upset. But patience and resilience are the most important things for an artist that I've taught myself, as I've been in this industry and making music for 6 years." This has definitely paid off, especially in the moments over the last year when you see how her career has evolved and brought her into a different space. The evolution, as it has been, has not just happened in relation to her music but has translated across the different aspects of creativity and the way in which she has expressed herself.
When it comes to her fashion, Darkoo is someone whose style has always shifted depending on the space she finds herself in. From her introduction from Gangsta up until her most recent release, when you look at her, you can see how, as her artistry and creativity have evolved, so has her fashion and the way in which she has been able to express herself when it comes to fashion. "From 'Gangster' to 2021, 2022, I feel like I really and truly had a modern Gangster look —we call it the F-boy look —with Armani jeans and all that type of stuff. I had the specific style —Gucci prints, all this hip-hop, era-specific look." She speaks to her signature style at the time, one that was synonymous with the period when she entered the music scene. The shift can be seen, and where you see her now is the result of her being more in touch with what she wears and how that is reflected in the type of clothes she wears. "I'll say around 2022 to 2023, then 2024, I feel like my style changed massively. I feel like I'm understanding the types of clothes I like to wear —working with different colours, bright and dark colours more, flared jeans and less skinny jeans, and things like that."
If you ask Darkoo what her new style era has been in this current moment, it very much lies in trying out new things and pushing herself, which has expanded beyond her music. This is very evident in the accompanying editorial images, which really took her beyond what she would choose for herself, as we reflect on the shoot that took place before our conversation. "It was definitely outside my comfort zone, but I feel like after the shoot, it made me start thinking about the kinds of styles and things that look good on me. And I want to push myself out of my comfort zone when it comes to how I dress and how I look. It was definitely amusing dressing up and doing things with a different theme, and the styling was definitely different from the kind of clothes I wear." The results feel like a different type of Darkoo, someone who was able to bring the vision to life, and channel a different energy which came out in the images.
Beyond the clothes and the music, it is evident that this moment in Darkoo's artistic journey feels like a turning point in her career. When you take it beyond the music and all that she has achieved, her growth across the board has been incredible to see. Witnessing her moment at the MOBOs at the start of the year and the year comes to an end, it feels like she's gearing up for some more things that are no doubt on the horizon. Speaking to this and what feels next for her in following up on this moment, "I'm in a space figuring out what my next plans are." She shares with me as we wrap up our conversation. She is no stranger to what it means to really put yourself out there and see what comes of it. Where we are, there are certainly miles to go before she reaches her next destination. "A lot of fun has been had, and the next step is for me to mature into myself, into my music, into my brand. Let's get back in the studio now."
Production Credits
Photographer: Jonathan Tomlinso
Creative Director: Zekaria Al-Bostani
Producer: Seneo Mwamba
Production Assistant: Whitney Sanni
Stylist: Jacob R Levine
Styling Assistant: Demi Hali
Abbie Young @y0ungabz
MUA/Grooming: Afsha Kabani
Barber: @h_clipsit
Movement Director: Ayanna Birch
BTS videographer: Geoffrey Konadu-Yiadom
BTS Video Editor: Abdulafeez Malik
BTS Photographer: @haruki.design
Design: @margokatesmith & @ShalemAlone
Writer: Seneo Mwamba
PR: @the828agency
Live at SILO Brooklyn, Arlo Parks unmasks the commonly concealed, uncanny music production process. One large table encompassed the entire stage’s set design, compact with massive MIDI keyboards, TASCAM cassette tape recorders, audio interfaces, decks, keyboards, and a guitar. Sunken red and soft white lights entrap the stage in her new experimental series, ‘Sonic Exploration.’
Born Anaïs Oluwatoyin Estelle Marinho, the L.A.-based and West London-raised singer/songwriter Arlo Parks curates a new way of sharing and experiencing music beyond the traditional performance scene. With shows slated for London, New York, and L.A., these intimate live shows awarded the audience an inside look at her intricate studio process, as she performed old songs from her repertoire layered with unreleased, new tracks.
The picturesque communal stage removed a natural hierarchy commonly present between the artist and the crowd, designing a curated closeness amongst the audience. Alongside producer/guitarist, Baird, ethereal meets ambience, layered with synthy, vintage-forward keys, mellow voice-overs, and futuristic textures, Arlo performs her unreleased track, ‘Heaven.’ This track mirrors Arlo’s light, smooth, emotional vocal approach, albeit with a new percussive, R&B-forward twist.
She then backtracks to her 2023 hit featuring Phoebe Bridgers on ‘Pegasus,’ from the ‘My Soft Machine’ album. Under a calm, moody, nostalgic blue light with synchronized head nods and sways from the audience, this pop bop falls nothing short of simple, resonant genius. Arlo has a beautiful way of conveying deep emotion through her soft cadence, accompanied by her vulnerable lyricism.
“Blue jewels 'round your neck (Ooh) / You cool my distress (Ooh) / Loose cherries, hot breath
I'm overwhelmed (ready?).
“I spun 'round and screamed, “‘I feel elated when you hold me’” / Then you got shy and beamed, “‘I think it's special that you told me’” / I think you're special 'cause you told me (Ready?) / I think you're special 'cause you told me / I think you're special 'cause you told me”
Arlo released her new single ‘New Desire’ ahead of her ‘Sonic Exploration’ show as a teaser of her new sound experimentation over the past two years. Taking the stage lights back to sunken red, she hits the decks with Baird on the guitar, playing a light, uplifting harmony. This track showcases Arlo’s sonic evolution, marrying her signature lo-fi, pop sound with a new electronic, punchy percussive feel. A late-night session with Baird inspired this track, all culminating from a voice note she received in May that “made her feel like a teenager again - tender with new magic.”
Arlo comes full circle near the end of her show with her 2018 debut single ‘Cola,’ rocking the crowd with its heavy, unforgettable, groovy bassline. Currently at 48 million streams on Spotify, the funk-inspired record juxtaposes against the melancholy of unrequited, toxic love, as the crowd emphatically sang,
“So take your orchids / Elsewhere, elsewhere / I loved you to death / And now I don't really care
'Cause you're runnin' 'round over there / Yeah, you're runnin' 'round over there / And now I don't really care.”
Pulling the audience into Arlo’s new, current, and future musical worlds, the timeless nature of these live shows expands the culture of sharing music that is in process. In an age of chronic automation, the dismantling of overt polish and perfectionism retains the art of the fundamentally undone.
Momentously dark, brooding, heavy piano chords strike a succession of strings at record timing, to open ‘History’ — the first cinematic track of the album.
“I'm from South where they struggle with sayin' your name / But it's easy when pronouncin' you dead on the scene… / You know it's history in the makin' (Ooh) / Shall we make it?”
Setting a commanding tone for Dave’s new full-length project after almost four years, the sharp, melancholic wit that is persistent in Dave’s storytelling collectively complements James Blake’s spacey, atmospheric production. Together, they offer listeners an uncanny opportunity to momentarily exist in a live conversation between Dave and Dave’s inner psyche. As harmonious vocal ballads juxtapose the dark, emotive questioning on the state of one’s existence, UK rapper Dave elucidates deep introspection and emotional turbulence in ‘The Boy Who Played The Harp.’
Hailing from Brixton, South London, British-Nigerian artist Santan Dave, born David Orobosa Omoregie, emerged onto the rap scene in 2015. His brilliantly precise freestyle on the underground rap channel Blackbox fused anecdotes of his real-life struggles into an enticingly hypnotic rap cadence– resonating with listeners drawn to his authentic delivery. The tenor of his lyricism narrates the realities of growing up in the Streatham district in South London, where a broken criminal justice system directly impacted his family and upbringing. Through the years, he has built a massive base: from winning a Mercury Prize for his release of ‘Psychodrama’ in 2019, to securing a MOBO award for his sophomore studio album, ‘We’re All Alone in This Together.’
Dave bases the album’s title on Biblical King David, who plays the harp in the Book of Samuel to soothe King Saul’s evil spirits and demons. The harp’s power to relieve Saul’s darkness parallels Dave’s strong connection to music and the enormity of its ability to dispel deep, complex emotions. This theme expands across the album as Dave unravels the varying depths of his anxieties – a damaging criminal justice system, an increasingly rushed and algorithmic-focused creative process, and the existential weight of the passage of time.
Already charting at #5 on the UK Official Singles Chart, Tems and Dave collaborate on ‘Raindance’ – a light, sweet record fusing afrobeats, afroswing, and rap. Dave’s heavy cadence and Tems' soft vocals provide a colorful texture to the song, indicative of the creatively expansive approach he brings to his records.
‘Selfish’ runs almost counter to the energy in ‘Raindance’ – where a haunting piano follows a descriptive narrative throughline of Dave’s pensive fears of never finding love, hesitance of therapy’s efficacy, and anxieties of running out of time. He introspects on a series of what-ifs:
“What if I'm selfish? / What if the kids just wanna be kids / What if my fear of doin' it wrong's the reason I haven't been doin' it right? / What if I never find love? / What if I'm damaged? Or what if I waited too long / Or what if I'm faded? Or what if anxiety's growin' inside me / That I might have left all my best years behind me? / Or what if I'm scared as I touch twenty-seven / That you don't appear in my idea of heaven?”
Building on themes of introspection, one of the most brilliant moments on this project is ‘Chapter 16.’ Featuring Kano with Dave, their back-and-forth banter almost mimics an off-guard, unscripted conversation between two friends simply catching up.
Dave: I moved out West, and it's nice in these days, we drivin'
Kano: Ah, your lifestyle bougie (Ah), lifestyle bougie (Ah, cool)
I used to push a silver Porsche with two seats
Dave: (Of course you did)
Kano: Leatherbacks, cosy baby seats in the SUV
You know I've been Naij' and I've never had Egusi
Dave: (So, blud, what was you eatin'?)
Kano: Fried plantin
Dave: You ain't have the pepper soup, G? And it's "Plantain"
Dave has always looked up to Kano, one of East London’s top grime rappers. While chatting about pepper soup, egusi, and the correct pronunciation of plantain, Dave delves into deeper ruminations on his hesitations, reservations, and general obscurities he wrestles with as an artist in this generation. What does it mean to excel tremendously as a rap artist in a world that is simultaneously on fire?
Kano encourages Dave to remember the power of presence, community, and perspective, especially in an unforgiving music industry.
“You got a lot of years ahead of you / Some years'll worsen you and some will better you / If it's not positive, drop it, the street's residue / But keep a piece of yourself when you're sellin' you../ This game ain't for the throne, and kings are checkable / It's to be a better you, envy's inevitable / And please take pics with your friends 'cause I'm tellin' you / This industry attention will sever crews”
Dave’s relationship with the creative process is paramount in this album, as he notes in ‘My 27th Birthday’
“But when I'm all alone, I won't lie, I question myself
Am I self-destructive? Am I doin' the best for myself?
I know I love music, but I question the rest of myself
Like, why don't you post pictures? Or why don't you drop music?
Or why not do somethin' but sittin' and stressin' yourself?
Ten years I been in the game and I won't lie, it's gettin' difficult
This shit used to be spiritual…
[and] why we countin' the numbers, how the music make you feel?”
These lines of worry are accompanied by call-and-response echoes of "everything's fine,” noting the cognitive dissonance Dave feels between making good music and the innate pressures of conformity associated with that. Impending social pressure and fear are heavily prevalent in the creative process. Creating for creation’s sake, for Dave, seems to have lost its fervor, as he describes how the music process used to feel much more spiritual. In a world of increased automation and algorithmic agility, audiences forget that there is a real person behind the music, with a large dedicated team committed to bringing an artist’s vision to life. In Dave’s recent Instagram caption, he highlights how formative those four years were for him and his music, emphasizing how his search for purpose guided him in the birth of his third studio album.
“You wanna know the reason it's taken me four years?
It's not 'cause I'm surrounded by yes-men and sycophants
It's 'cause I'm with producers and people that give a damn
It's me who's gotta carry the pressure, I live with that”
Lauryn Hill speaks to a similar theme, underscoring the importance of living life to create good art.
“I’m not in the studio right now, and everybody thinks I’m crazy / Time is running out, and you have a window / For a while, I listened to that / Music was created / But it wasn't my best / There was no substance because there was no experience / …Never be afraid of not knowing / Think in doses / Think in experiences”
Refusing to be prescriptive, the nature of Dave’s storytelling invites listeners on an emotionally introspective journey through the labyrinthine of his creative mind. Each worry, hesitation, abundance, and proclamation Dave expresses design the sonic, melodic, and phonetic structure of each record.
King David and his harp,
Santan Dave and his pen.
“My ancestors, my ancestors told me that my life is prophecy
And it's not just me, it's a whole generation of people gradually makin' change
There ain't a greater task
Shift that, make a name, make a start
They don't know what they're facin' when they ask
With the will of David in my heart
The story of the boy who played the harp.”
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