
Tyla and Ayra Starr have never needed to announce a rivalry. The internet did it for them.
For years, the two African pop stars have been placed on opposite sides of an imaginary line. There are, admittedly, reasons people see parallels.
Both artists are young African women who have turned music, fashion and performance into global pop currency. Both have built careers around Afropop-adjacent sounds while refusing to remain confined to one genre to reach a level of international visibility where their careers are no longer judged only against other African artists, but against the world's biggest pop stars.
Both of their two latest studio albums add another metric to the comparisons. Tyla’s sophomore, A*Pop is a deliberate expansion of the sound she established with “Water.” At 14-tracks long, it continues to blend amapiano, Afropop, R&B and pop, while incorporating house, electronic production and dancehall.
More importantly, it is her attempt to increasingly use her global platform to foreground the musical culture that made her. South African artists MaWhoo and Babalwa M appear on the album, while her reworking of Liquideep's “Fairytale” connects her current pop world to an older South African musical lineage. The FADER described the album as Tyla taking a more expansive role as both collaborator and cultural emissary, while the Guardian noted her ability to move between genres with the ease of an established pop star.
Starr’s eponymous Starrgirl takes a different route, moving between Afrobeats, R&B, pop, soul and other influences, bringing together collaborators including Wizkid, Zayn Malik, Leon Thomas, Rema and more. Critics dubbed it her most adventurous album yet, noting that Starr stretches beyond the boundaries of her earlier work without abandoning the musical ecosystem that made her a star.
That distinction matters because once placed side by side, what emerges is not two artists copying the same blueprint but ones testing how far African pop can travel without abandoning its roots.
But it could be their career histories that also show why the comparison has become so tempting. Tyla won the inaugural Grammy for Best African Music Performance with her hit single “Water,” in 2024 and won the category again in 2026 with “PUSH 2 START.” Ayra Starr’s “Rush” was nominated in 2024, while collaboration with Wizkid, “Gimme Dat,” was at this year’s awards.
Nevertheless, Starr has plenty of milestones of her own. Signed to Mavin Records, she emerged with 19 & Dangerous in 2021 before expanding her sound and ambitions on The Year I Turned 21, two already acclaimed records that have cemented her place in the genre; an increasingly international résumé, from becoming the first Afrobeats artist to perform on Glastonbury's Pyramid Stage to winning two MOBO Awards in 2025, including Best International Act and her international management partnership with Roc Nation which has expanded her career infrastructure.

As much as the industry numbers therefore make the two women look like competitors, their actual careers make them look more like parallel examples of what African pop can now produce, which they captured perfectly in their 2023 collaboration, “Girl Next Door.”
Both artists have also adopted elements of the Y2K aesthetic that has dominated contemporary pop, appearing in tiny skirts, crop tops, low-rise silhouettes and deliberately sensual styling. Both use choreography as an important part of their performances. But none of these things belongs to either artist. The internet's treatment of choreography is particularly telling. Tyla's global breakthrough helped make Bacardi-inspired movement recognisable to audiences far beyond South Africa, but it’s not a dance style she invented. It is part of a South African cultural tradition that existed before “Water.” When Ayra incorporates similar movements, therefore, the question cannot simply be whether she copied Tyla. It must also be whether Tyla herself is being treated as the owner of a cultural form that is bigger than her.
The irony is that the accusations have gone both ways. Nigerian audiences have accused Tyla of borrowing from Ayra Starr, while South African audiences have accused Ayra of copying Tyla. The “original” changes according to which fanbase feels its woman has been threatened.
That is not really a plagiarism debate. It is fandom turning cultural exchange into territory. The women are not only compared as musicians. They are compared as women. Who has the better body? Who is sexier? Who dresses better? Who has the more desirable complexion? Who has the more “African” look? Who is more marketable internationally? Who is more original? Who deserves the bigger stage?
That’s never been accidental. The music industry has a long history of placing successful women into artificial competitions. Whether Beyoncé and Rihanna being framed as competing pop empires or Nicki Minaj and Cardi B in the female rap game. Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston were frequently reduced to the question of who had the superior voice. Yet those comparisons rarely function as neutral assessments of artistic differences. Women are expected to prove their greatness relationally.
There is a misogynistic scarcity built into that expectation. As opposed to men, women are more frequently presented as though only one can occupy the position of “queen.” They must be the prettiest, most talented, most successful, most fashionable or most desirable woman in the room and the Tyla-Ayra discourse reproduces that logic almost perfectly.
Their bodies, skin color, clothes and even their relationships with peers is part of the argument. More importantly colourism is especially revealing here. Tyla's lighter complexion has been cited by some critics as evidence of the beauty privileges that can accompany lighter skin in Western mainstream entertainment, while Starr's darker complexion is sometimes invoked as an explanation for why she supposedly receives less international recognition.
Those are legitimate structural questions worth examining, but turning them into ammunition against another Black woman only reproduces the competition that colourism itself helps create.
Then we add nationality — another already combustible comparison. Tyla's career is inseparable from South Africa, a country whose musical influence she has increasingly foregrounded. Yet South Africa's recurring xenophobic violence against African migrants, including Nigerians, has made her nationality politically complicated. In July, Nigeria publicly pressed South Africa to do more to curb attacks against Nigerians and other African migrants, with Reuters reporting deaths and the evacuation of nearly 1,500 Nigerians amid the latest violence.
Most recently when Tyla announced a Lagos stop on her A*POP World Tour, Nigerian social media erupted over whether the concert should go ahead amid the violence. Calls for a boycott followed, and days later the Lagos date disappeared from the tour itinerary. Crucially, there was no public confirmation from Tyla or her management that the removal was directly caused by the xenophobia controversy. The episode did however raise a difficult question about celebrity responsibility. Should she be expected to speak on xenophobia simply because she is South African? Or is that expectation itself unfair, effectively asking an artist to use their platform to become a spokesperson for the behaviour of an entire country?
Her later appearance at the South African Music Awards offered something less direct. Tyla spoke proudly about being African and expressed a desire to see a unified Africa. It was an affirmation of continental solidarity, but not a detailed public condemnation of the attacks that had triggered the Lagos controversy.
Starr's relationship to social issues is equally complicated. Nigeria has its own history of state violence and oppression, most notably the #EndSARS protests against police brutality. Amnesty International documented widespread abuses by the Special Anti-Robbery Squad, including torture, extortion and extrajudicial killings. Yet Starr should not automatically be expected to comment on every Nigerian political crisis simply because she is Nigerian.
But that has never been something new. It is the tension celebrities increasingly face. They do not owe governments political loyalty, but their platforms can become powerful cultural megaphones. When artists become international symbols of their countries, audiences inevitably ask whether representation should come with responsibility.
Rihanna offers another lens on that question, but her relevance to Tyla and Ayra is ultimately more personal. Tyla has openly cited Rihanna as a major inspiration, explaining that seeing someone from outside America achieve global superstardom made her believe she could do the same. On the other hand, Starr has also referenced the Barbadian mogul as her dream collaboration, but her relationship with the superstar has received a more visible public cosign – the Nigerian singer speaking about Rihanna's support and their interactions, particularly her publicly engaging with Starr's music. That distinction became particularly combustible in 2026 when Rihanna used Ayra's “Who's Dat Girl?” in a social-media post after the Met Gala moment involving Tyla. Online, the moment became evidence of a supposed hierarchy: one where Rihanna chose Ayra, therefore Ayra had won. Except she never said that.
The same misogynistic framework that turns Tyla and Ayra into rivals turns every celebrity interaction into a ranking system. A Grammy becomes a score, whilst forgetting some of the greatest artists of our time never won one or did so much later on in their careers. A song post becomes a cosign. A dress becomes evidence of copying. A friendship becomes a strategic alliance. Two women cannot simply exist in the same cultural ecosystem; their proximity must mean someone is winning.
That is why the Tyla-Ayra comparison deserves to be questioned without pretending the similarities do not exist. They are comparable. Their careers intersect. Their aesthetics overlap. Their music sometimes occupies neighbouring territory. Their awards histories give fans genuine material for debate. Their latest albums make for perfectly legitimate critical comparisons.
But comparison becomes misogynistic when it requires one woman to diminish another. The bigger story is that Tyla and Ayra Starr are succeeding during a period in which African music is becoming increasingly central to global pop. One is carrying South African amapiano and its surrounding musical traditions into new spaces. The other is extending Nigerian Afrobeats into a broader pop and R&B universe. Their success does not cancel each other out.
And maybe that’s what the internet finds hardest to accept. There does not have to be one African female pop star. There does not have to be one winner. Perhaps the most radical thing these two women can do is exactly what they appear to be doing: build careers big enough that there is no longer only one space at the top.

In an exciting blend of soundscapes, British artist Skyla Tylaa, Kenyan singer Sofiya Nzau, Deepa and American star Chloë Bailey’s latest offering, “Makuhia,” is a striking balance of amapiano,house,, R&B,and traditional East African vocal styles.
The track’s title “Makuhia” loosely translates to coming closer or approaching in Nzau’s native language Kikuyu – a not so new occurrence for the singer-songwriter whose sound has often combined Afro-house and EDM influences with contemporary tunes – ultimately paying off with her big 2023 breakout when Brazilian DJ and producer Zerb remixed her jam, “Mwaki.”
Now, with the new release Nzau builds on that distinct identity coupled with both Tylaa and Bailey’s backgrounds to elevate it further.

The latter two have already built a name in their respective lanes, namely Tylaa’s unequivocable presence in the UK’s electronic music scene as a DJ and producer, bridging Caribbean-inspired tunes with South African amapiano and deep house textures – in turn helping in promoting African club genres at an international level.
Bailey on the other hand brings her refined R&B sound and discerning production to the mix. Coming onto the scene at first as part of acclaimed sister duo Chloe x Halle and going on to pursue a solo career, it's fair to say she’s made a name for herself in the industry – not to mention the evolving vocal range and versatile performance style.
Ultimately at its core, “Makuhia” attests to what can happen when artists from different musical and cultural backgrounds meet without having to flatten what makes their respective sounds distinctive. Instead, the collaboration allows Kikuyu vocal traditions, amapiano, house, electronic music and R&B to exist within the same space, creating something that feels both rooted and outward-looking.
It also arrives at a moment when African music is increasingly being heard through unconventional combinations and unexpected collaborations. As artists continue to take sounds born on the continent into new genres, scenes and markets, “Makuhia” is part of that new wave showing how cultural specificity is becoming a strength rather than a barrier and one major way through which they [sounds] aren't simply being exported, but reimagined, shared and given new life on a global scale.
On a Tuesday night in Lekki, thousands of mostly young people waltzed into a large auditorium in the thick of the dark. The only light that pierced the room came from a stack of green strobes dangling above the stage. There were no tables. No bottle service. No LED boards tracking who spent the most. Just a dance floor, and house music.
This avant-garde monthly rave gathering is called Group Therapy — founded by DJ Aniko, in August 2023. It is modestly priced at ₦21,000 a head every edition, and is currently the clearest evidence that something structural has shifted in how young Nigerians go out.
A new three-year events industry index from ticketing platform Tix Africa puts numbers to what anyone paying attention already sensed. The number of raves listed on Tix Africa more than tripled in 2025, growing faster than any other type of event.
The average rave ticket on Tix costs ₦16,352, compared with ₦28,153 for music and performance events. That makes raves about 42 percent cheaper. Nigerians have not stopped going out; they are simply finding cheaper ways to do it.
The reason is easy to understand. Lagos club culture often revolves around table bookings, where a single bottle can cost anywhere from ₦100,000 to nearly ₦1 million. Even after getting a table, there is often pressure to keep ordering and spending throughout the night.
"At raves, the dance floor is present," DJ Aniko told the Associated Press earlier this year. "You go to a usual Lagos party, and there is no dance floor. We barely have spaces to just dance." Oluwamayowa Idowu, founder of Culture Custodian, put it plainly: "Raves are more democratic. What this says is that people don't have the purchasing power to sustain a club lifestyle. Clubs are still open and busy, but just generally in today's climate, there is more of a focus on enjoying yourself as opposed to you enjoying yourself."

Group Therapy has become the most visible name in that shift, but it has not been without its complications. The Group Therapy edition in 2025 - one of the most anticipated rave collaborations in Lagos in recent years - generated significant backlash after a statement from the organisers drew criticism online.
People threatened to boycott. The post was taken down. What followed was a public reckoning that forced the organisers to examine what they had built and how they were managing it - welfare officers were added, security was tightened, house rules were published and enforced.
At the gate, tickets were checked twice before wristbands were issued, and wristbands were checked again before entry. The controversy revealed the tension inside any format that grows faster than its infrastructure. Group Therapy had become too big to coast on goodwill alone.
The Tix Africa report goes beyond raves. Its data also shows when Nigerians actually decide to buy tickets.
Nearly half of all ticket purchases, 47 percent, happen in the final five days before an event. That is more than double any other period, including salary week. People are buying because the event is getting closer, not necessarily because they have just been paid.
Arrival times tell a similar story. Sports fans arrive an average of 27 minutes before kickoff, while people attending music, food and arts events arrive about three hours after the advertised start time. For concerts and raves especially, the time printed on the ticket is rarely the time people expect the event to actually begin.
Odd Climbers
The report's most counterintuitive finding is about money. The single most expensive average ticket category on Tix Africa is not music. It is school and education, at ₦69,906 — more than double the average concert ticket.
Investments and spirituality events also outprice most entertainment categories. The most money changing hands on Tix is buying a seat in a classroom. This is not a portrait of a population spending deliberately across multiple categories, with nightlife being one of them and education being the most expensive.
Group Therapy is not the only rave building in this space. The format has expanded beyond house music into Afrobeats, amapiano and hybrid sounds. Community raves with tighter guest lists are proliferating across Lagos and other cities.
The collaboration with the other rave party - however complicated its execution - signalled that international electronic music institutions have noticed what is being built here. Culture experts regard the rave explosion as one of the clearest crossovers of South African musical influence in Nigeria, similar to how amapiano arrived and stayed.
December remains the busiest period of the year, accounting for half of all events listed on Tix Africa in the final quarter.
But Detty December is growing beyond parties and raves. Hiking events grew by 300 percent year over year, while poetry, wellness and podcast-related events also recorded significant growth.
Raves may have grown the fastest, but the data shows that Nigerians are increasingly looking for different ways to spend their time and money.
Cover Credit: de.nirangraphy

Tyla and Ayra Starr have never needed to announce a rivalry. The internet did it for them.
For years, the two African pop stars have been placed on opposite sides of an imaginary line. There are, admittedly, reasons people see parallels.
Both artists are young African women who have turned music, fashion and performance into global pop currency. Both have built careers around Afropop-adjacent sounds while refusing to remain confined to one genre to reach a level of international visibility where their careers are no longer judged only against other African artists, but against the world's biggest pop stars.
Both of their two latest studio albums add another metric to the comparisons. Tyla’s sophomore, A*Pop is a deliberate expansion of the sound she established with “Water.” At 14-tracks long, it continues to blend amapiano, Afropop, R&B and pop, while incorporating house, electronic production and dancehall.
More importantly, it is her attempt to increasingly use her global platform to foreground the musical culture that made her. South African artists MaWhoo and Babalwa M appear on the album, while her reworking of Liquideep's “Fairytale” connects her current pop world to an older South African musical lineage. The FADER described the album as Tyla taking a more expansive role as both collaborator and cultural emissary, while the Guardian noted her ability to move between genres with the ease of an established pop star.
Starr’s eponymous Starrgirl takes a different route, moving between Afrobeats, R&B, pop, soul and other influences, bringing together collaborators including Wizkid, Zayn Malik, Leon Thomas, Rema and more. Critics dubbed it her most adventurous album yet, noting that Starr stretches beyond the boundaries of her earlier work without abandoning the musical ecosystem that made her a star.
That distinction matters because once placed side by side, what emerges is not two artists copying the same blueprint but ones testing how far African pop can travel without abandoning its roots.
But it could be their career histories that also show why the comparison has become so tempting. Tyla won the inaugural Grammy for Best African Music Performance with her hit single “Water,” in 2024 and won the category again in 2026 with “PUSH 2 START.” Ayra Starr’s “Rush” was nominated in 2024, while collaboration with Wizkid, “Gimme Dat,” was at this year’s awards.
Nevertheless, Starr has plenty of milestones of her own. Signed to Mavin Records, she emerged with 19 & Dangerous in 2021 before expanding her sound and ambitions on The Year I Turned 21, two already acclaimed records that have cemented her place in the genre; an increasingly international résumé, from becoming the first Afrobeats artist to perform on Glastonbury's Pyramid Stage to winning two MOBO Awards in 2025, including Best International Act and her international management partnership with Roc Nation which has expanded her career infrastructure.

As much as the industry numbers therefore make the two women look like competitors, their actual careers make them look more like parallel examples of what African pop can now produce, which they captured perfectly in their 2023 collaboration, “Girl Next Door.”
Both artists have also adopted elements of the Y2K aesthetic that has dominated contemporary pop, appearing in tiny skirts, crop tops, low-rise silhouettes and deliberately sensual styling. Both use choreography as an important part of their performances. But none of these things belongs to either artist. The internet's treatment of choreography is particularly telling. Tyla's global breakthrough helped make Bacardi-inspired movement recognisable to audiences far beyond South Africa, but it’s not a dance style she invented. It is part of a South African cultural tradition that existed before “Water.” When Ayra incorporates similar movements, therefore, the question cannot simply be whether she copied Tyla. It must also be whether Tyla herself is being treated as the owner of a cultural form that is bigger than her.
The irony is that the accusations have gone both ways. Nigerian audiences have accused Tyla of borrowing from Ayra Starr, while South African audiences have accused Ayra of copying Tyla. The “original” changes according to which fanbase feels its woman has been threatened.
That is not really a plagiarism debate. It is fandom turning cultural exchange into territory. The women are not only compared as musicians. They are compared as women. Who has the better body? Who is sexier? Who dresses better? Who has the more desirable complexion? Who has the more “African” look? Who is more marketable internationally? Who is more original? Who deserves the bigger stage?
That’s never been accidental. The music industry has a long history of placing successful women into artificial competitions. Whether Beyoncé and Rihanna being framed as competing pop empires or Nicki Minaj and Cardi B in the female rap game. Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston were frequently reduced to the question of who had the superior voice. Yet those comparisons rarely function as neutral assessments of artistic differences. Women are expected to prove their greatness relationally.
There is a misogynistic scarcity built into that expectation. As opposed to men, women are more frequently presented as though only one can occupy the position of “queen.” They must be the prettiest, most talented, most successful, most fashionable or most desirable woman in the room and the Tyla-Ayra discourse reproduces that logic almost perfectly.
Their bodies, skin color, clothes and even their relationships with peers is part of the argument. More importantly colourism is especially revealing here. Tyla's lighter complexion has been cited by some critics as evidence of the beauty privileges that can accompany lighter skin in Western mainstream entertainment, while Starr's darker complexion is sometimes invoked as an explanation for why she supposedly receives less international recognition.
Those are legitimate structural questions worth examining, but turning them into ammunition against another Black woman only reproduces the competition that colourism itself helps create.
Then we add nationality — another already combustible comparison. Tyla's career is inseparable from South Africa, a country whose musical influence she has increasingly foregrounded. Yet South Africa's recurring xenophobic violence against African migrants, including Nigerians, has made her nationality politically complicated. In July, Nigeria publicly pressed South Africa to do more to curb attacks against Nigerians and other African migrants, with Reuters reporting deaths and the evacuation of nearly 1,500 Nigerians amid the latest violence.
Most recently when Tyla announced a Lagos stop on her A*POP World Tour, Nigerian social media erupted over whether the concert should go ahead amid the violence. Calls for a boycott followed, and days later the Lagos date disappeared from the tour itinerary. Crucially, there was no public confirmation from Tyla or her management that the removal was directly caused by the xenophobia controversy. The episode did however raise a difficult question about celebrity responsibility. Should she be expected to speak on xenophobia simply because she is South African? Or is that expectation itself unfair, effectively asking an artist to use their platform to become a spokesperson for the behaviour of an entire country?
Her later appearance at the South African Music Awards offered something less direct. Tyla spoke proudly about being African and expressed a desire to see a unified Africa. It was an affirmation of continental solidarity, but not a detailed public condemnation of the attacks that had triggered the Lagos controversy.
Starr's relationship to social issues is equally complicated. Nigeria has its own history of state violence and oppression, most notably the #EndSARS protests against police brutality. Amnesty International documented widespread abuses by the Special Anti-Robbery Squad, including torture, extortion and extrajudicial killings. Yet Starr should not automatically be expected to comment on every Nigerian political crisis simply because she is Nigerian.
But that has never been something new. It is the tension celebrities increasingly face. They do not owe governments political loyalty, but their platforms can become powerful cultural megaphones. When artists become international symbols of their countries, audiences inevitably ask whether representation should come with responsibility.
Rihanna offers another lens on that question, but her relevance to Tyla and Ayra is ultimately more personal. Tyla has openly cited Rihanna as a major inspiration, explaining that seeing someone from outside America achieve global superstardom made her believe she could do the same. On the other hand, Starr has also referenced the Barbadian mogul as her dream collaboration, but her relationship with the superstar has received a more visible public cosign – the Nigerian singer speaking about Rihanna's support and their interactions, particularly her publicly engaging with Starr's music. That distinction became particularly combustible in 2026 when Rihanna used Ayra's “Who's Dat Girl?” in a social-media post after the Met Gala moment involving Tyla. Online, the moment became evidence of a supposed hierarchy: one where Rihanna chose Ayra, therefore Ayra had won. Except she never said that.
The same misogynistic framework that turns Tyla and Ayra into rivals turns every celebrity interaction into a ranking system. A Grammy becomes a score, whilst forgetting some of the greatest artists of our time never won one or did so much later on in their careers. A song post becomes a cosign. A dress becomes evidence of copying. A friendship becomes a strategic alliance. Two women cannot simply exist in the same cultural ecosystem; their proximity must mean someone is winning.
That is why the Tyla-Ayra comparison deserves to be questioned without pretending the similarities do not exist. They are comparable. Their careers intersect. Their aesthetics overlap. Their music sometimes occupies neighbouring territory. Their awards histories give fans genuine material for debate. Their latest albums make for perfectly legitimate critical comparisons.
But comparison becomes misogynistic when it requires one woman to diminish another. The bigger story is that Tyla and Ayra Starr are succeeding during a period in which African music is becoming increasingly central to global pop. One is carrying South African amapiano and its surrounding musical traditions into new spaces. The other is extending Nigerian Afrobeats into a broader pop and R&B universe. Their success does not cancel each other out.
And maybe that’s what the internet finds hardest to accept. There does not have to be one African female pop star. There does not have to be one winner. Perhaps the most radical thing these two women can do is exactly what they appear to be doing: build careers big enough that there is no longer only one space at the top.

In an exciting blend of soundscapes, British artist Skyla Tylaa, Kenyan singer Sofiya Nzau, Deepa and American star Chloë Bailey’s latest offering, “Makuhia,” is a striking balance of amapiano,house,, R&B,and traditional East African vocal styles.
The track’s title “Makuhia” loosely translates to coming closer or approaching in Nzau’s native language Kikuyu – a not so new occurrence for the singer-songwriter whose sound has often combined Afro-house and EDM influences with contemporary tunes – ultimately paying off with her big 2023 breakout when Brazilian DJ and producer Zerb remixed her jam, “Mwaki.”
Now, with the new release Nzau builds on that distinct identity coupled with both Tylaa and Bailey’s backgrounds to elevate it further.

The latter two have already built a name in their respective lanes, namely Tylaa’s unequivocable presence in the UK’s electronic music scene as a DJ and producer, bridging Caribbean-inspired tunes with South African amapiano and deep house textures – in turn helping in promoting African club genres at an international level.
Bailey on the other hand brings her refined R&B sound and discerning production to the mix. Coming onto the scene at first as part of acclaimed sister duo Chloe x Halle and going on to pursue a solo career, it's fair to say she’s made a name for herself in the industry – not to mention the evolving vocal range and versatile performance style.
Ultimately at its core, “Makuhia” attests to what can happen when artists from different musical and cultural backgrounds meet without having to flatten what makes their respective sounds distinctive. Instead, the collaboration allows Kikuyu vocal traditions, amapiano, house, electronic music and R&B to exist within the same space, creating something that feels both rooted and outward-looking.
It also arrives at a moment when African music is increasingly being heard through unconventional combinations and unexpected collaborations. As artists continue to take sounds born on the continent into new genres, scenes and markets, “Makuhia” is part of that new wave showing how cultural specificity is becoming a strength rather than a barrier and one major way through which they [sounds] aren't simply being exported, but reimagined, shared and given new life on a global scale.
On a Tuesday night in Lekki, thousands of mostly young people waltzed into a large auditorium in the thick of the dark. The only light that pierced the room came from a stack of green strobes dangling above the stage. There were no tables. No bottle service. No LED boards tracking who spent the most. Just a dance floor, and house music.
This avant-garde monthly rave gathering is called Group Therapy — founded by DJ Aniko, in August 2023. It is modestly priced at ₦21,000 a head every edition, and is currently the clearest evidence that something structural has shifted in how young Nigerians go out.
A new three-year events industry index from ticketing platform Tix Africa puts numbers to what anyone paying attention already sensed. The number of raves listed on Tix Africa more than tripled in 2025, growing faster than any other type of event.
The average rave ticket on Tix costs ₦16,352, compared with ₦28,153 for music and performance events. That makes raves about 42 percent cheaper. Nigerians have not stopped going out; they are simply finding cheaper ways to do it.
The reason is easy to understand. Lagos club culture often revolves around table bookings, where a single bottle can cost anywhere from ₦100,000 to nearly ₦1 million. Even after getting a table, there is often pressure to keep ordering and spending throughout the night.
"At raves, the dance floor is present," DJ Aniko told the Associated Press earlier this year. "You go to a usual Lagos party, and there is no dance floor. We barely have spaces to just dance." Oluwamayowa Idowu, founder of Culture Custodian, put it plainly: "Raves are more democratic. What this says is that people don't have the purchasing power to sustain a club lifestyle. Clubs are still open and busy, but just generally in today's climate, there is more of a focus on enjoying yourself as opposed to you enjoying yourself."

Group Therapy has become the most visible name in that shift, but it has not been without its complications. The Group Therapy edition in 2025 - one of the most anticipated rave collaborations in Lagos in recent years - generated significant backlash after a statement from the organisers drew criticism online.
People threatened to boycott. The post was taken down. What followed was a public reckoning that forced the organisers to examine what they had built and how they were managing it - welfare officers were added, security was tightened, house rules were published and enforced.
At the gate, tickets were checked twice before wristbands were issued, and wristbands were checked again before entry. The controversy revealed the tension inside any format that grows faster than its infrastructure. Group Therapy had become too big to coast on goodwill alone.
The Tix Africa report goes beyond raves. Its data also shows when Nigerians actually decide to buy tickets.
Nearly half of all ticket purchases, 47 percent, happen in the final five days before an event. That is more than double any other period, including salary week. People are buying because the event is getting closer, not necessarily because they have just been paid.
Arrival times tell a similar story. Sports fans arrive an average of 27 minutes before kickoff, while people attending music, food and arts events arrive about three hours after the advertised start time. For concerts and raves especially, the time printed on the ticket is rarely the time people expect the event to actually begin.
Odd Climbers
The report's most counterintuitive finding is about money. The single most expensive average ticket category on Tix Africa is not music. It is school and education, at ₦69,906 — more than double the average concert ticket.
Investments and spirituality events also outprice most entertainment categories. The most money changing hands on Tix is buying a seat in a classroom. This is not a portrait of a population spending deliberately across multiple categories, with nightlife being one of them and education being the most expensive.
Group Therapy is not the only rave building in this space. The format has expanded beyond house music into Afrobeats, amapiano and hybrid sounds. Community raves with tighter guest lists are proliferating across Lagos and other cities.
The collaboration with the other rave party - however complicated its execution - signalled that international electronic music institutions have noticed what is being built here. Culture experts regard the rave explosion as one of the clearest crossovers of South African musical influence in Nigeria, similar to how amapiano arrived and stayed.
December remains the busiest period of the year, accounting for half of all events listed on Tix Africa in the final quarter.
But Detty December is growing beyond parties and raves. Hiking events grew by 300 percent year over year, while poetry, wellness and podcast-related events also recorded significant growth.
Raves may have grown the fastest, but the data shows that Nigerians are increasingly looking for different ways to spend their time and money.
Cover Credit: de.nirangraphy

Right now, Afro Plus Fest is the hybrid, one-of-a-kind movement standing proud as the largest independent, Black-owned Afro-Caribbean and Hip-Hop festival in the United States. And the reason it’s thriving as such is simple: intentionality.
From giving deserving local talent a main-stage platform alongside global titans, to intentionally bridging African, West Indian, and African-American cultures under one roof, the festival exists to celebrate the roots. African culture serves as the original blueprint for modern pop music, and by bringing Afrobeats, Dancehall, Amapiano, and Hip-Hop together, it showcases versatility and a shared life experience.
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At the center of this movement is founder Michael “Legendary Mike” Awosanya, a Nigerian-American entrepreneur, Towson University alum, and Prince George’s County native, alongside his core team. That tight-knit group includes Derick leading production, Bri handling marketing, Grace heading festival operations, and his sister Bussy Awosanya directing partnerships. After eight years evolving from local DJ battles, dance competitions, and parties, the brand grew into Afro Plus Fest in 2025.
Now, the momentum is increasing. Expanding from a sold-out, single-day debut of 20,000 attendees at the RFK Festival Grounds, the festival expects to welcome a projected 120,000 guests across a sophomore three-day weekend in next month’s Labor Day (Sept. 4–6, 2026). Set at the Northwest Stadium Complex in Landover, Maryland, this year's experience features world-class headliners like Wizkid, Davido, Tems, Ayra Starr, Alkaline, Lil Baby, Latto, Chief Keef, and Sexyy Red across a main stage and sub-genre hubs like the Piano District and La Vibe. Beyond the music, the immersive campus includes an expanded cultural marketplace, a diverse lineup of local and global food vendors, and brand-new features for '26 including an interactive on-site basketball court and a full-scale carnival.
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For Michael, bringing a stadium-level event back home to Prince George’s County isn't just about scale; it’s about driving substantial economic impact back into the community that raised him. Where many organizers forget their roots once they reach this level, the Afro Plus team remains intentionally focused on community wealth, multi-generational connection, and real-people impact.
We sat down with Michael to talk about the origin, the ethos, and what it takes to build a movement on your own terms.
Q: For anyone just discovering Afro Plus Fest, how did this start, and what does the name actually mean?
A: "This didn’t start as a festival. Back in 2017 it was DJ battles, dance competitions, and parties. Then it grew. We brought Burna Boy out in 2018, ran Heatwave DC in 2022 with Asake, and launched Afro Plus Fest in 2025. It really crystallized after years coordinating events across the DMV and watching these different sounds collide in the room: the whole thing was built on one simple truth: Afro is everywhere. You hear it in Afrobeats, obviously, but also in Hip Hop, in Dancehall, in the fashion, the slang, the way the whole world moves right now—that’s the 'plus'. The name is 'Africa, plus more,' and to me the plus is the full, unfiltered expansion of global Black culture. We're taking Afrobeats, Dancehall, and Hip Hop and building space for everything that feeds our identity from style, beauty, wellness, gastronomy, and hospitality to local business ownership and real community wealth. African culture is the foundation of global pop culture, and this festival reflects that reality."
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Q: The whole thing is built on a “block party” feel. Where does that come from?
A: "That’s my DNA. I grew up in Prince George’s County, Nigerian-American, and the block party is exactly that upbringing: high energy, everybody outside, community first. It’s built to hit whether or not you know every artist on the bill. The energy is the point."
Q: You could take this to New York or Miami. Why plant a stadium festival in your home county?
A: "Because Prince George’s County raised me. This one’s for the people who raised us. PG County has one of the most vibrant, prosperous African diaspora communities in the country; major destination hubs are cool, but bringing 120,000 people to the Northwest Stadium Complex in Landover is deeply personal. Building something this size in our own backyard lets us funnel an estimated $40 to $60 million in economic impact right back into the community that made us. Created for us, by us, in the place that made us."
Q: A stadium event needs buy-in. How much did being a native matter?
A: "It mattered everything. You can’t scale to this level without your community and your government in the room: the county executive, the governor, the city council, all of it. That financial and logistical support from local entities is essential, and being from here is what opened those doors and made the relationships real."

Q: The 2026 bill runs Wizkid and Davido next to Lil Baby, Alkaline, Sexyy Red, Chief Keef, Latto, Tems, and Ayra Starr. What story are you telling with that map?
A: "Lineage and connection. Traditional live music infrastructure always tries to box genres into separate lanes, and that framework is completely outdated compared to how our generation actually consumes. Putting Tems, Ayra Starr, and Alkaline on the same bill as Chief Keef or Lil Baby shows how African, Caribbean, and American sounds feed off each other in real time. You can catch Wizkid or Davido on the main stage, walk to the Piano District or La Vibe for deep Amapiano and electronic sets, then hear Hip Hop heavyweights all in one night. Afrobeats, Dancehall, Hip Hop, R&B, soca, Amapiano: it all lives together. The dedicated hubs let us spotlight hyper-localized sounds that are actively shaping global club culture."
Q: Pairing street artists like Chief Keef and Sexyy Red with Olamide and Tiwa Savage, what’s the philosophy?
A: "Street culture is global diaspora culture. The raw energy of American Hip Hop shares the exact same DNA as Dancehall or street-pop out of Lagos and Accra. Putting those artists side by side breaks down artificial respectability barriers; it reflects what real people are actually bumping in their cars, in their headphones, at day parties, across nightlife. My curation comes straight from that world; I came up as a nightlife promoter, so I book what’s moving the club right now. Down the line we might play with a more nostalgic vibe, artists who haven’t performed in a while, but this year was about high-energy, recognizable hits."
Q: Does anything happen on that stage you can’t get anywhere else?
A: "That’s the magic; this festival is an accelerator. We bridge producers, writers, and artists in real time. Gunna and Wizkid performed 'Forever Be Mine' live on our stage for the first time ever. That’s the whole thesis: put these worlds together and something new comes out of it."
Q: Someone can come purely for the music and leave connected to the whole culture. How do you design for that?
A: "Music gets people through the gate; the environment creates the core memory. New this year we’ve got an interactive on-site basketball court, a full-scale carnival, and an expanded cultural marketplace packed with Black-owned vendors: fashion, beauty, wellness, lifestyle, plus food and beverage. You come for a headliner, but on the walk between stages you’re eating authentic West African or Caribbean food and discovering local DMV designers. We designed an immersive cultural campus so no two days feel the same. We love being the bridge between all of it."
Q: On food specifically, how big is that operation?
A: "It’s serious. We run 94 food slots with 80 to 90 unique vendors and global cuisines across the board. The onboarding is intentionally rigorous and tedious, because we need vendors ready for real volume. Some of these businesses bring up to 20 staff a day to keep up with the crowd."
Q: You’ve carved out a whole section for hometown talent. What are you looking for, and what does it unlock for them?
A: "Authenticity, work ethic, distinct regional character. For years DMV talent and local DJs got passed over by the major festivals despite driving the whole local scene. Through 'Made in the DMV' we book 10 to 15 regional artists Mannywellz, Foggie Raw and an almost entirely local DJ roster, and we put them in front of up to 40,000 people a day right next to global superstars. That’s direct access they’ve earned."
Q: This isn’t just a party, it’s an economic engine. How do you balance stadium-scale commerce with staying community-rooted?
A: "We measure success by community payout, not just ticket revenue. Last year our small business vendors averaged $22,000 in a single day. Scaling to three days at a stadium turns us into a direct economic pipeline for minority-owned vendors, security teams, production staff, creators. When the community around you profits directly from your growth, scale and roots work in complete harmony. The first year alone drove an estimated $10 million in local impact; this year we’re projecting $40 to $60 million into PG County and the region."
Q: You’re doing this without major corporate backing. What does independence cost you, and why hold onto it?
A: "Real talk: production costs this year are two to three times what they were last year, and we’re carrying that without a safety net from big institutional sponsors like Visa or Amex. We run on our own internal sales and financial model. That independence is the point: it forces us to build a permanent, self-sustaining economic engine instead of renting someone else’s. When we do bring on partners, brand alignment comes before the check; a sponsor has to match the energy of our crowd, not dilute or commodify it."
Q: How do you define success beyond the attendance number?
A: "Life-changing opportunities. Full-time and part-time jobs, vendors who change their livelihood in a weekend, local artists who get elevated. When the lights go down on Sunday, Sept. 6, success is 120,000 people from everywhere feeling completely seen, safe, and celebrated in Prince George’s County vendors setting record sales, hometown artists feeling bigger, and the community taking pride in what we built at home."

Q: It’s explicitly all-ages. Why was that non-negotiable?
A: "Because our culture is inherently intergenerational. The music our parents played in the house directly shaped the Afrobeats, Dancehall, and Hip Hop we make now. An all-ages space. Is it lets high schoolers, college kids, their older siblings, and their parents share the same grounds. Last year we had families pull up three generations deep. I watched my own mom celebrating with her friends. That was the goal."
Q: It started as an Afro-Caribbean space. Is it only for that community?
A: "Not at all. The core is the Afro-Caribbean diaspora, but the energy is contagious and the door is open to everyone dancehall, soca, amapiano, hip-hop, trap, Afrobeats, whatever brought you. The proof is organic: random people now walk up and tell me they’re part of the 'Afro Plus' community. That’s a movement, not a marketing line."
Q: Who’s actually building this with you?
A: "A tight-knit team locked in since our Towson University days in 2014 we built a family around this. Derick leads production, Bri runs marketing, Grace heads festival operations, and my sister Bussy Awosanya is our director of partnerships while she’s also out here working as an OB-GYN. I came up promoting college parties in this region for over a decade before we ever touched a stadium. Year one was an 80-day turnaround at RFK on pure grit and adrenaline; year two forced me to step up as an executive and the team to scale production fast."
Q: Where does Afro Plus go from here?
A: "The next move is expanding the footprint into major diaspora hubs here in the US and abroad while we keep our momentum in the DMV first. By 2031 I want Afro Plus as a four-day festival doing 50,000 to 60,000 a day, still based in the DC area but operating internationally, creating consistent year-round employment and pioneering how Afrobeats bridges cultural gaps. Long term, we’re proving an independent, Black-owned, next-gen team can build stadium-level infrastructure on our own terms, keep full ownership, and pour tens of millions right back into our communities. The possibilities are endless."
The world was thrown into mourning on Tuesday as music icon Dolly Parton passed away from cancer aged 80. The news was broken by her family in a heartfelt video clip posted on her social media channels by her nephew Bryan Seaver. A private service will be held for close family in the coming days. In place of flowers, her family has also asked for donations to the Dolly Parton Imagination Library.
Dolly Parton was an American singer, songwriter, actress, entrepreneur and philanthropist born in Tennessee in 1946, who rose from Appalachian poverty to country music stardom.
Across six decades, songs including “Jolene,” “9 to 5” and “I Will Always Love You” made her a global pop-cultural figure, alongside a successful career in film and business.
Beyond entertainment, ventures such as Dollywood and her Imagination Library literacy programme extended her influence into philanthropy and American public life.

During his 27 years of imprisonment, political prisoners were occasionally permitted to play music over the loudspeakers. When Mandela's turn came, he chose a 1973 song by a white woman from Tennessee.
His fellow prisoner and anti-apartheid activist Tokyo Sexwale confirmed this on the NPR podcast Dolly Parton's America: "He loved Jolene. No human being cannot be affected by Jolene." It says something specific about the reach of a voice that was never limited by the audience it was made for.
Her relationship with South Africa was complicated and honest about its complications. In 1982, Parton performed at Sun City in Bophuthatswana during the apartheid cultural boycott - a decision she later publicly regretted, acknowledging she had not understood the political situation at the time.
She subsequently pledged not to perform in South Africa under apartheid.
In 1996, she also collaborated with Ladysmith Black Mambazo on a cover of Cat Stevens' 'Peace Train' - discovering the legendary isicathamiya group on a television commercial and bringing them to New York for the recording. Joseph Shabalala's son Sibongiseni described her as a "cultural ambassador" after her death, noting that the collaboration "affirmed a mutual respect and created a lasting bridge of shared humanity through song."

Her support for Black communities in the United States was consistent and rarely performative. When asked about Black Lives Matter in 2020 following George Floyd's murder, she told Billboard: "Of course Black lives matter. Do we think our little white asses are the only ones that matter? No." She said this as a 74-year-old white Southern woman with a massive white conservative fanbase and substantial business interests tied to Southern tourism.
In 2018, she removed "Dixie" from the name of her dinner attraction after learning the word's Confederate associations offended people. "As soon as you realize that something is a problem, you should fix it. Don't be a dumbass," she said.
When Whitney Houston transformed 'I Will Always Love You' into a global phenomenon for The Bodyguard in 1992, Parton invested the royalties into a strip mall in the Black section of Nashville, specifically because she wanted to be among Houston's community.
When Beyoncé covered 'Jolene' on Cowboy Carter in 2024, Parton had been campaigning for that cover for years. She appeared on the album herself, on the interlude 'Dolly P' and the song 'Tyrant'.
Her Imagination Library, the childhood literacy program she founded in her father's memory, has provided over 200 million free books to children - specifically including books that reflect Black children's experiences, with Hair Love as a featured pick.

Dollywood is Dolly Parton’s theme park in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, rooted in the culture and landscape of her native Smoky Mountains. Opened under the Dollywood name in 1986, it combines amusement rides with live music, Appalachian crafts, Southern food and storytelling, becoming both a major tourist destination and an extension of Parton’s cultural legacy.
Generally, Dolly Parton never claimed to be a civil rights activist. She claimed to be someone who listened, reconsidered, and fixed things when she learned they were broken. For a white Southern woman from poverty who built one of country music's most successful careers, that turned out to be enough to matter very specifically to people she was never required to care about.
Dolly Parton was 80. She is survived by her extended family and by a body of work that, as Mandela demonstrated, has a way of finding the people who need it.

The 18th Headies Awards has unveiled its full nomination list, with the ceremony confirmed for October 23, this year, in Toronto, Canada. The year in review for the nominations stretches fromAugust 2024 till July 2025. However, as is typical with award shows, its most significant story is not the familiar names at the top.

FOLA leads all nominees with 10 nominations, including top categories like Afrobeats Single of the Year with 'You', Best R&B Album with Catharsis, Best Recording of the Year, Digital Artiste of the Year, Best Male Artiste, Best Headies Collaboration with 'Lost' featuring Kizz Daniel, and Writer of the Year. For an artist who has been building steadily and deliberately outside the mainstream conversation, 10 nominations is the industry catching up to what most fans already knew.
Davido followed closely with the second highest nominations, earning nods in 8 categories — driven largely by one song: 'With You' featuring Omah Lay — including Song of the Year, Afrobeats Single of the Year, Best Recording of the Year, Best Headies Collaboration and Viewers' Choice. For the rest of the Big 3, Wizkid's 'MMS' and 'Jogodo' - both with Asake - clinched Song of the Year and Afrobeats Single of the Year nods respectively. Wizkid's album Morayo is also in contention for Afrobeats Album of the Year.
The Song of the Year category brings together Kunmie's 'Arike', Poco Lee, Shoday and Rahman Jago's 'Hey Jago', Ayra Starr's 'Hot Body', Fido's 'Joy Is Coming', 'MMS' by Asake and Wizkid, and 'With You' by Davido and Omah Lay.

Then comes Next Rated - historically one of the show’s most contested categories - features Fido, Fola, Llona, Mavo and Shoday together.The category reflects a generation of artists who have been building genuine fanbases and critical credibility in parallel, and the competition this year is as close as it has been in recent memory.
The 18th Headies will hold in October 23, in Toronto.

Toronto was soaked in rain on Saturday night, but the moment Asake stepped onto the stage at Scotiabank Arena none of it seemed to matter to the thousands of fans caught in the downpour. The Nigerian star had arrived in the city just two days after opening the North American leg of his “In God We Trust World Tour” in Chicago. By the time he appeared onstage the arena was packed and ready to give itself over to the music.
The Toronto stop was reported as a sold-out show, another major arena moment in Asake’s steadily expanding global run.

Interestingly, there was also a sense of unfinished business. When Asake last performed at Scotiabank Arena in 2024, the show received a mixed response. Two years later, he returned with a much more considered production such as live musicians, dancers, instrumentalists and enormous LED screens and the difference was immediately apparent.
Asake’s entrance established the visual language of the night. Dressed in white, dark sunglasses covering his eyes and “GIRAN” emblazoned across the back of his first outfit, he stepped onto a stage where every performer was dressed in the same colour. The effect was striking against the darkness of the arena, while the screens behind him supplied an ever-changing stream of elaborate graphics. There was a sense of scale to the opening that made it clear this was a leap for Asake’s stagecraft. His dancers moved around him with sharp precision, while the instrumentalists gave the songs a fuller presence beyond their recorded versions. Asake himself remained at the centre of it all, moving easily between choreography, vocals and the loose crowd interaction that has become part of his appeal.
That becomes particularly obvious when the bigger records arrive. “Lonely At The Top” turned the arena into a huge singalong, but the reaction grew even louder when Asake reached “Sungba” and “Fuji Vibe.” The latter felt especially fitting in a room this large. Its Fuji influence is central to Asake’s musical identity but here it became something communal, with thousands of people shouting the words back at him. “Mr. Money With The Vibe,” “OBA,” “Uhh Yeah,” “Asambe” and “Ligali” kept the momentum moving, while “Remember,” “Badman Gangsta,” “Forgiveness” were also highlighted as the night’s standout moments.

At one point, Asake briefly disappeared for an outfit change, leaving the musicians to take over the stage. Rather than functioning as filler, the interlude became a performance in itself as The Compozers ran through familiar Asake hits. Their presence is important to the show. Asake’s music has always carried a strong relationship with rhythm and live instrumentation, and hearing those elements expanded onstage gives the songs another kind of experience.
When Asake returned, the change was noticeable. His second outfit leaned further into the night’s glamour sparkling beneath the stage lights as he moved back into the performance. The dancers, musicians, costumes, lighting and graphics all worked together to give the night its own visual identity.
For all the scale of the production, some of the night’s best moments were the simplest. During one performance, Asake spotted a woman in red in the crowd and turned his attention towards her, serenading her as the audience watched. For a few minutes, the vastness of Scotiabank Arena seemed to disappear. It was playful, spontaneous and intimate.

Still, the biggest moments belonged to the music. “Sungba” had already sent the arena into a frenzy, while “Fuji Vibe”brought out another enormous response. “Badman Gangsta” and “Remember” were other particularly loud moments, and when the familiar opening of “Worship” arrived, the audience barely needed Asake to lead them.
What makes the Toronto show particularly impressive is how naturally Asake’s music translates to this scale. His songs are built around rhythm, repetition and movement. The live musicians sharpen the rhythmic edges, the dancers amplify the physicality of the songs, and the graphics give the music a visual world to inhabit.
It also makes the scale of Asake’s progression difficult to ignore. In 2024, his Toronto show left some fans feeling that the performance itself was stronger than the overall concert experience largely because of the brevity of the set. This time, there was a greater sense of occasion around his arrival. The production was more ambitious, his catalogue had grown, and the performance felt built around the breadth of what Asake has accumulated in just a few years.

By the end of the night, the rain outside had become an afterthought. Inside, Scotiabank Arena was still moving with thousands of people singing, dancing and holding their phones above their heads as Asake worked through the final stretch of a catalogue that has grown remarkably quickly.

For all the talk around Asake’s international growth, it is moments like this that make the progression tangible. Two years after a Toronto show that left some attendees wanting more, Asake returned with a performance that felt bigger, fuller and more assured.

If you meet Llona and you don't already know he's an artist, chances are he will tell you he's a farmer.
It is the kind of answer that stops you for a second , because he actually means it. Or perhaps, it is just something he says. And once you spend enough time listening to him talk about his new album, "On The Road," you start to understand why.
Patience. Farming is patient work. It requires you to keep tending to something even when you cannot see the result yet. And this is also the philosophy behind Llona’s sophomore project.
The Concept of Motion
Ask Llona what "On The Road" means and he will not give you a straight answer about touring or travel. He will tell you it is about motion itself, as a discipline, as a way of staying alive to your own work.
"You cannot tap in motion if you're not moving," he says. "You cannot sit and tap motion. We have to be on the road. Consistency, because that's all I have."

It sounds simple until you realize how literally he means it. The recreational vehicle that anchors the album's visual identity barely leaves Lagos, he admits it himself, barely holding a chuckle in.The vehicle is not really about geography. It is a symbol for a mental state, for staying in forward motion even when the body is standing still.
"I wanted to give my own POV of what I see," he explains. "On the road means I'm outside, I'm seeing different faces. I needed them to see what I was seeing, so they'll be able to feel it just like I did."
He was, in the literal sense, on the road for seven months while building this project. And he is careful to note that the motion did not come at the cost of care, it moved alongside it. "I just keep the motion going. I'm inside, but at the same time, I'm making sure that I'm not moving too fast from them. I'm making sure I'm healing while I'm moving, while at the same time, go, go."
There is an unspoken wisdom in that line that repeats throughout the conversation:the idea that healing and progress are not sequential. "If I have to wait for me to be at peace with whatever is going on with me before I, I don't think, I think I'm gonna have to wait forever. So I just keep the motion going."

Before there was Llona, there was Tooclasiq, a version of himself he describes with a kind of gentle distance now. "When I came in, even with Tooclasiq, I was not sure of what I wanted. So I think when I transcended into Llona, I figured a lot of stuff out."
“Figuring it out” happened far from the industry entirely. He worked as a security officer before Lagos. He taught nursery and kindergarten, the only male teacher at the school, standing in as support staff for the lead teacher, helping small children rehearse a marching parade for an interhouse sports day with none of the proper equipment. "No matter how, even though we didn't have the equipment and the resources, we still did our best," he says.
And then there is the lore of the phone. To shoot the video for his song "Comforter," recorded in the north after what he describes as a spiritual pull toward Kano, he sold his phone to fund it. He stayed in the north for three months, and it became the period where his real questions surfaced. "Why am I giving Lagos what they already have? Why am I not giving them where I'm from, and how I'm built?" That question, more than any single record, is what pushed him to stop performing an aesthetic and start building from something original to himself.
For an artist known for emotionally rich, introspective songwriting, Llona pushes back hard against one label in particular.
"I hate that," he says, when the phrase Afro depression comes up. "I don't sing music for you to be depressed and wallow in your depression. I don't go to the studio because I want to go and sing a depressed song. That's weird."
It is the sharpest moment in the entire conversation, and a necessary corrective. His music sits with difficult feelings, but the intent, as he describes it, was never to keep listeners stuck inside them. If anything, the through line of "On The Road" argues the opposite, that movement itself is what carries you out of the heaviness, not around it.
He is candid, too, about the quieter periods people mistook for silence. "You get people thinking I stopped working," he says. "But there was a lot I needed to figure out and make sure we were in place and able to put in place for my people." He talks about wanting his fans to know they were not just streamers, they were concertgoers, ticket buyers, people willing to travel to experience the music live. Building that infrastructure took time the internet does not always account for.
Every Llona album, he says, has twelve tracks, and that number is not incidental.
"My own songs are my own disciples," he says. "Send them to the world to go preach. The fact that there are twelve in number, I think they're going to age well. And even when I'm gone, far, far gone, they'll still continue telling the world about my gospel."
It is a striking way to talk about a tracklist, less like a collection of songs and more like a mission. Each record carries a piece of him outward, built to keep speaking long after the album cycle ends, long after he is not the one doing the talking.
That is the real meaning behind "On The Road." Not a tour, not a vehicle, not even a genre. A commitment to staying in motion, sending the work ahead of himself, and trusting it to keep moving once he lets go.
Llona has already told us who Anger Management represents. The other eleven, he's kept close. So we're turning it over to you: which disciple do you think each track on "On The Road" carries? Drop your picks, we might just run the best ones in the next issue.

Since 2012, Tekno has been evolving as a maestro at his craft. From writing Davido's 'If', to co-producing Kizz Daniel's 'Buga (Lo Lo Lo)', and building the legwork dance into a cultural staple before the internet had a name for his style, he’s been scoring feats only expected from pros. Then, one day in late 2018, he announced that his voice had given out-and at the peak of his career. What followed was a 12-hour surgery in the United States, over $2 million in refunded show fees, and months of silence that he has only just recently to speak about publicly. Throughout his ordeal, one thing that kept him going besides the music was his daughter.Now, his third album, Where Did Love Go? arrives as a new chapter in his journey. It’s his first album release with emPawa Africa and a trove of deeper expressions from the 33-year-old crooner. Catching up with Deeds, we spoke about his surgery, his favourite track on the album, what his voice means to him now, and what Billie Eilish calling him her favourite artist actually says about the reach of his music.
Sophia For Deeds: For anyone reading this and discovering you for the first time, how would you introduce yourself?
Someone that loves to live life to the fullest. Music makes me happy.
You wrote “If” for Davido, co-wrote and produced “Buga” for Kizz Daniel, helped build the sonic language of Afrobeats in the 2010s and yet the conversation around your legacy often feels incomplete. Why do you think it may be the case?
It will be complete in due time. I think everything happens naturally. You get me? The story being complete is me as an artist deciding I'm walking away and I don't want to make music anymore. And then we can say, oh, he left it at that. As long as I'm out here still making music in due time the story will be as complete as it needs to because everyone has their own route in it. So it's like you just let it play out and we all see.
You were diagnosed with muscle tension dysphonia - a condition that robbed you of your voice for months while a fraudulent doctor charged you $1,600 per session telling you that you were recovering. You eventually had a 12-hour robotic surgery in the US and refunded over $2 million in show fees. What was the moment you realised how serious it actually was?
Normally when you perform, you scream while performing, you would have a sore throat and say anywhere from one week to two to three weeks. The sore throat was normal. I think when it was two months, three months, and my throat still felt like, what? What the hell is going on? That's when I really started getting scared. Something is definitely off. But also on the night of my show in Ghana, when this happened, we were supposed to go out and party that night. But you know like when you just have this weird feeling in your body like something has happened. But I couldn't really place what happened. I just said, I don't feel okay. I'm good, but I just don't feel right. I don't think I want to go out tonight. But I didn't realize at this time that my vocal nodes had been mashed up. But I think three months, two months to three months is when I realized this thing is not going away. This might be a little more serious than I thought. That's when the fear really kicked in.
You have spoken about contemplating suicide during that period. What kept you going?
My daughter. I don't play with that. There was a time I went two weeks without speaking and to be quiet for two weeks straight. Yeah, it was definitely one of the hardest things I think in the world that really put me to the limit. And to actually go through that and find out there was no improvement. Dude was just lying to me. That right there was what made me like, I want all this to stop. Because we did, ''Don't talk for one week''. I went back basically after one week. He wanted me to go two weeks without saying nothing. In the process of two weeks without options in the world, bro.
Coming out of that experience, how did it change the way you approach making music - specifically the voice you almost lost?
I think I'll show that in this movie or book or something. There's not enough words for me to describe or elaborate it properly. I think that would be better told in a book or movie.

Where Did Love Go? is your third album and your first since joining emPawa Africa. Why was now the right time for this project and why emPawa?
emPawa, because Eazi and I are family. Together, you know, but with a contract. I don't know if that word is correct, like just obligations. I had contract with the company I was working with before I decided to move to emPawa. And with the album, I feel like I just enjoy making music so much and it probably took me a while to realize that. And before the years out releasing another album still. So I feel like that was the kickoff. The next one will be halftime and the following will be full time and it doesn't stop and it keeps going.
“Wedding Day” is your favourite track on the album. There’s something specific about watching people you’ve performed for at their weddings separate shortly after. How much of this album is personal observation versus something more universal?
I would say Adaeze, but Wedding Day can take it. I won't have a problem with that. Not someone that's really into marriage that much (laughing) but I would say Adaeze. But like Wedding Day, I can definitely have it for sure.
Personal observation hm, I actually have a friend that it happened to. Two years ago I was at a wedding performance. Before, I used to say make it sound like it's her fault because me and the guy in question were friends. But then someone in the future later told me, "Don't be like that” because you don't know it from her perspective. There's always three sides to a story. This side, that side, and what actually happened. So in retrospect, I don't know if it was her fault, I don't know if it was his fault. But I was there at the wedding and they didn't even last a year, six months and it was done.
In the world where we live basically, this happens every day. And hearing stories and actually knowing one personally kind of really shapes the idea of where love is right now.
Billie Eilish has called you her favourite artist. What does that kind of recognition from someone outside the African music ecosystem mean to you?
I guess, like, if. If the food is sweet, it's sweet. You get me? It won't matter if you have a Portuguese tongue or a Nigerian tongue or a Jamaican tongue. If the taste is fire, like, it's definitely going to hit them violets. That's basically how I say it.

Your dancing is as much a part of who you are as your voice - the footwork, the legwork, the effortless movement that was part of your visual identity before Poco Lee and that whole wave made it a full culture. Do you feel like you get enough credit for what you started on the dance floor, the same way the conversation around your musical contributions sometimes falls short?
I feel like I actually do, if I'm being honest, when we talk about just the fans that actually love me that would ask me “when are you gonna do a video where you're just dancing?” We were in the studio session one time, and we had Bankuli and a couple of people, and he had, like, these two artists he was working with. I think one of them is a female, 14 or 16, like, but they're still, like, growing, like training her to, like, you know, grow up. She asked me a question. I said yes. She said, are you still gonna dance and do this and do that? I was just laughing so much.
So I feel like to those that it really matters that they do know it. Also, I'm not the only person dancing on the internet. There's a bunch of people dancing on the Internet, so I'm not gonna try to, you know, want all the glory or the credit to myself. It's like me dancing on the Internet brought a bunch of smiles to a bunch of faces around the world. So for that, I'm satisfied enough with that. So I wouldn't really care as much as who gets the credit, who doesn't get the credit. Michael Jackson is my biggest inspiration, and he's not even here to get the credit. You get me? So, yeah, it really doesn't matter.
So that means if we want to see you dancing, we should watch Pana?
No, no, I got something coming for y’all. Say nothing. Say less. Say less. I have a track coming. It's called NO. In this track, the embodiment of my footwork is there from start to finish. It's a lovely one. I look forward to that.
As we wrap up - Where Did Love Go? is being described as “slept on.” What do you want people to understand about this album that the streaming numbers might not be saying?
The mistake people make a lot of time is, people want to keep track of everything.
I don't look at it like that. You get me? It's art. Keep making art and keep putting art out. I'm not worried about all that. Like saying, oh, the streaming is this, or the streaming is that. People got a lot going on in their life, and the algorithm has switched from, oh, like, this is beautiful music. Listen to it. They're looking for trends and they're looking for virality. You get me? The whole world is actually singing music. So, like, to be able to make music and put it out on its own and itself is a blessing.
So if you enjoy the process of what you do, you don't really care too much about all this, because if I specifically did it just for the numbers, streaming and what people have to say about it, other than actually enjoying it, I most likely won't be here making music, to be honest.

Stonebwoy calls his sound "Afro dancehall" - a blend of Afrobeat, reggae, dancehall, highlife and traditional African styles that he has been refining since he was a teenager in Ashaiman, Ghana. His 2012 debut, Grade 1, introduced an artist fluent in Ghanaian street rhythms and Jamaican dancehall grammar. Three years later, he had clinched honours at notable awards including the Ghana Music Awards and the Black Entertainment Television (BET) award, rising to the limelight of African Pop. Born Livingstone Etse Satekla, the 38-year-old bard has spent over a decade building a musical identity that moves between continents without losing its roots, and a festival - Bless His Imperial Majesty - that has grown from Ghana's biggest artist-led event into one of the country’s biggest cultural exchange arenas with immense global reach. Its eleventh edition arrived at OVO Arena Wembley this August, making Stonebwoy the first Ghanaian artist to headline the iconic venue. Catching up with Deeds Magazine, he spoke about cultural bridges, what collaboration actually requires, and why the music connecting Africa and the Caribbean has always been the same music.
Sophia For Deeds: For anyone reading this and discovering you for the first time, how would you introduce yourself and your music?
I will introduce myself as Livingstone Etse Satekla by birth and Stone boy S T O N E B W O Y as artist name. My music is a combination of music of black origin, you know, all from whether created from Africa or created from the diaspora. Specifically Afrobeats, high life music, reggae music, dancehall music, hip hop music, pop music, traditional musical style. So that's the fusion of it all. That's how I describe my music.
I coined the term Afro dancehall, which would now become the representation of all these styles that I have since been propagating and been largely known for globally. So once you type ‘Afro dancehall’ out on a search engine, you find out that there's one Stonebwoy who is a pioneer behind that terminology..
You grew up in Ashaiman and built a career that now leads to OVO Arena Wembley. When you trace that journey - what was the moment that changed everything?
The moment when I decided to be very determined. The moment when I could see in my mind's eye, in my vision platter, that I have a goal to achieve, I can feel it beat strongly inside of my heart. I can feel the fire burn and know that I am destined to actually contribute to the musical ecosystem of Africa in my era. That is when I took it all very, very seriously. This has been from inception. I am one of those kids who would realize their talents from a very young age and begin professing it and expressing it. So it just got more serious as the days went by and you know, here we are today and I'm not relenting.

BHIM Festival turned ten in 2025 and now moves to London. When you started it, did you see it becoming what it has become or did it outgrow the original vision?
It is actually what it is because it was fundamentally created to give myself a platform that is befitting of hosting people from all walks of life at the end of every year, so that whatever it is, before the year started, those who would have traveled from the diaspora and returned home, those who would find some time to listen to some good music and some great performance, would all gather together and listen to my style. The same that I have actually described to you.
Because most dominantly you find out that these are not the type of typical styles that any artist possesses easily, encompassing or putting together all these influences and trying to make them into one sound. So I needed a platform that would continuously give me the time, the freedom to express myself through the audience. 10 years running, and this year is the 11th year. From inception, it was hosted at one of the biggest capacities in the country. From year one then we knew that was the standard that were supposed to maintain and God being so good, all efforts, etcetera, put together, we have been able to become the single artist led festival that has done the biggest capacities or continued to do the biggest capacity in Ghana, while also bridging the gaps between African music and Caribbean music, most especially music of black origin, because that is the true purpose of the music that we do or that I do. That is the whole vision and mission behind it. So bringing it here in the 11th year in the heart of London for the first time is amazing. It's the biggest. At the capacity where it's like very. Where it's like, what do you say? Iconic, if I can say that or it's an iconic place.
You know, Wembley, OVO arena and still with the same purpose, same energy bridging African music, especially Ghanaian music, with Caribbean style and selling it to the world and creating such an atmosphere that people would be able to continuously identify themselves as who they are and enjoy their own creative in terms of music that comes out.
Headlining OVO Arena Wembley makes you the first Ghanaian artist to do so. What does that specific milestone mean to you personally?
Personally, it makes me feel like I'm dancing to a P-Square song.
You should get the punchline (laughing)
Anyway,on a more serious note, the brand Stonebwoy and its team are actually relentless when it comes to breaking the envelope and representing Ghana and Africa. This will not be the first ever milestone that has been broken by the brand Stonebwoy and its associates. The BHIM Fest itself is the only festival that has done two times across Port Stadium 40,000 seater capacity into 50,000 plus twice and done other stadiums across Ghana as well. That on its own is historic right there. So bringing it here in a capacity where it's a taste that is breaking the first time and Ghanaian artists coming in to do the OVO and at this capacity it is just in line. But it will interest you to know that was not part of our plans to be the first. We just realized that is what we have become again, you know.
The London edition brings together African and Caribbean music on one stage. You have spent your career arguing that Africa and the Caribbean share something musically and culturally. What is something you think others still ignore about that cross-cultural connection?
Yeah man, there are a few things that people ignore and those are people who do not seek to know anything about history, anything about roots. To a large extent and primarily they would be denying themselves of self identity and as such you find out that, there is some amount of something missing, when it comes to their self identity. So it is very important for some people, us who actually are born from the motherland, who actually would pay attention to history and read and learn to educate ourselves and also send that information across. We have various forms, we have various media that we can use in today's time to make that communication easy, bringing about the cross cultural connection to be stronger and stronger.
Because the Caribbean at the last African Union meeting has been agreed to be the seventh region of the African states. So that tells you that we are all definitely also economically one. Why would it be so? It would be so because the leaders and the political handlers of the Caribbean states, they would actually know better and understand. When you go to Sudanam, you see the West African culture predominant inside of their living. When you go to Guyana, when you go to some, I mean when you go to most of the Caribbean countries, you realize how very prominent the African culture is in them. And all this is carried through DNA's practices that were left uncovered.
It is very important for us black people globally to understand that we have to continue to live in the vision of those who have come and spoken and sacrificed for us, which is the Kwame Nkrumah, the Marcus Garvey, the Martin Luther Kings. And you know, all of this, it doesn't take anything away from us. It doesn't hurt to self identify. And all that can only be done through creative arts and culture and commerce. So for us who actually are practitioners of creative arts and culture, we want to use the music, the movies, we want to use all aspects, all mediums, you know, to continue to bring together and solidify the bridge of oneness amongst black people globally. And BHIM fest does nothing but that, you know, which is its core mandate. So yeah, man. For those who do not really want to recognize that, I wish that they do because without true self identity, there's no fulfillment in existence. Yeah, man.
You blend reggae, dancehall, Afrobeats and Ghanaian sounds in a way that feels natural rather than calculated. Take us inside the studio sessions; what does the process look like?
Yeah, man, the process is a beautiful one. When you, when you dig into a day in the life of Stonebwoy in a studio, it's very interesting that all these influences that are carefully calculated in the mathematical, you know, formula of my DNA, it comes out easily. You know, I am one time, I'm giving some style that will represent the Caribbean vibe. I'm giving some style that is typically high life. I'm giving some style that is typically reggae. So I would say that to come this far, it's very fluid for me to do. And that is how we continue to enjoy Stone Bwoy style, Stone Bwoy brand. I think it is not entirely alien. It has only built on its style because these styles that I'm referring to, I've always been in the African system. We have legends who have traveled and have done so much in that same context. But what Stone Bwoy has done is to continue it in a light that is even much more, very authentic. To export into the Caribbean audience. Yeah, man. So that's how I can tell you once when you catch me being creative, it just flows, you know, over the years that I have had experience at what I do.

You've collaborated with Sean Paul, Beenie Man, Burna Boy, Stormzy, Davido, Angélique Kidjo. What does a collaboration actually need, for you to work just beyond two names on a record?
A collaboration definitely goes beyond the two people on a song. It brings the strengths of one artist together with those of another, creating something even more powerful. It also represents unity and brings people together, especially when you have the opportunity to work with one of our elders, like Angélique Kidjo, who has been in the industry for more than 40 years. I had the opportunity to collaborate with her again during her 40th-anniversary concert at the Royal Albert Hall, which was my first time there. It was beautiful to experience that crossover and connect with her audience. Collaboration is something we should always insist on and continue to push for. It reaches far beyond the music. It brings different fans and listeners together and merges different styles. That is what makes it so beautiful.
Afro-dancehall as a sound has been growing, you've been central to that conversation for over a decade. Where do you think the sound is going, and what role does Ghana specifically play in it?
Thank you very much. The sound has definitely gone global. Not to say it's going global. It's gone global because it is supposed to be freedom. Afro dancehall is supposed to be the vehicle, you know, that all African artists, which I can give names, who are influenced by music of black origin, especially reggae, dancehall to be able to measure that into their indigenous African styles and express them without apology, because I think 15 years ago, it was not actually cool. It was difficult for an African artist to have the freedom, to be able to expand their creativity, be it being influenced by some reggae, some dancehall, which would have been dominant or which is still dominant in Africa, you know what I'm saying? There was some level of fright, there's some level of segregation that, oh, you are not Jamaican. Why are you trying to? You know what I'm saying? But then I came in to make them know you do not have to be Jamaican once you are African. You have what it takes equally as a Jamaican, because a large number of Jamaicans, historically, through DNA, whatever, are black people, which you also are.
Much of the creativity we possess lives in our DNA. It does not exist only in the instruments we play or the drums we beat; it is in our blood. So I can, they can, and all of us can. I have been giving that Afro-dancehall energy and pushing the ideas and teachings behind the sound, and it has created a lot of freedom.
I see it becoming even more global. I recently released a project featuring 16 young, up-and-coming artists whose influences stretch across African music, reggae, dancehall and hip-hop. You should hear how beautifully they express themselves on the record, touching on all these influences at once. It was not always like this. A movement like this will continue to grow, become global and create more freedom.
That freedom is important because creativity thrives in freedom. Without freedom, you cannot create. That is what Afro-dancehall is here to provide: room for people to express themselves freely. That is why I exist and why I can speak my Yoruba, my Ga, my patois and my English. I can sing all of it. [Sings.] You know what I’m saying? Anytime, anyhow; freedom of expression. That is what Afro-dancehall represents.
You were recently at Rema's London listening party. There's a generation of African artists operating at a genuinely global scale right now. What do you think the generation that built the foundation - yourself included, is still owed in that conversation?
I think we deserve the respect, you know, and the honor and that's what is very important. And the mention, you know what I'm saying? Because it's like honoring your father. It only creates room for you to be honored when you become one. Because as a child today, a father tomorrow, a grandfather, the next time, and a great grand the other time if God gives you life, you know what I'm saying? So if you honor your parents or you honor your elders, you are also going to be honored by the children who will come behind you. So I think what we deserve or what we require is honor because we have made it at least easier for the generation behind. Using Rema as a typical case study. I'm so excited about his new body of work. And all I see, all I hear in the new body of work is Afro Dancehall...(sings Rema’s Tea) It’s like this vibe. Yeah, I told you already, freedom. So when I met him at the other, at the event, it was just beautiful, you know, that would be the third or the second time we are meeting. He always expresses a lot of honor towards me in person and says, Yo OG! I say, I'm too young to be OG now, you see? So that's it, where we deserve a lot of honor. I'm telling you, the key is that once they bring honor to us, they're going to be honored as well. You know what I'm saying? Because, yeah, that's just it. That's just it. I'm happy and excited to be a part of that school, as you would even mention, you know, that we are still contributing to that effect.
As we wrap up - beyond the show, what do you want people to understand about this chapter of your career?
God bless you. Beyond the show, this chapter of my career is going to continue to be a global chapter. Most primarily, I want the world to know me for that African child that persistently sent some amount of education, was very proud to be black, not only at colour, but proud to invest in himself as an African child and inspire the next African child wherever they find themselves on the globe.

Twenty years after he stepped into the Nigerian music industry, Timaya is celebrating a career that has moved from dancehall, reggae, Afrobeats and Nigerian Pop without settling in one box.
Last Saturday the Bayelsa-born singer marked two decades on stage with a special performance at Indigo, The 02 Arena in London, bringing together the music that carried him from his early days as “Plantain Boy”.
His solo career began in 2005 when he dropped “Dem Mama”, a song that showed he was willing to confront serious subjects. The record, which addressed the Odi Massacre of 1999 in Bayelsa, became the foundation for his debut album “True Story” which was released the following year.

“Gift and Grace ”, followed in 2008 before “De Rebirth”expanded his reach with “Plantain Boy”, a record that cemented his streetwise personality and dancehall-infected sound that became central to his identity.
By the time “Long Life N’ Prosperity ” and “Upgrade” arrived, Timaya had established himself as an artist that is capable of turning everyday Nigerian language, slang and experience into songs and records that were built for movement.
“Upgrade ”, released in 2012 also produced “Bum Bum”, one of the songs that became synonymous with his name and got an international remix that featured Jamaican dancehall star, Sean Paul.

His 2014 album, “Epiphany” continued the run with Sanko while bringing together collaborations with artists including 2Baba, Olamide, Phyno, Patoranking, Terry G and Sir Shina Peters. The album reflected Timaya’s ability to move between Nigerian pop and Carribean-influenced sounds without losing the identity he had built for himself.
After several years of singles and collaborations, Timaya returned with Chulo Vibes in 2019, an EP that featured Burna Boy, Machel Montano and Alikiba. A year later, Gratitude was born which included “Gra Gra”, “Balance”, “I can’t kill myself”, “Don Dada”, and “Born To Win”.
His catalogue continued to grow with Gladiator , released in 2024. The album had featured collaborations with Tiwa Savage, Olamide, Phyno, Konshens, Enugu and Mr Killa, which included songs like “Get My Money Right”, “Sweet Us ”, “Dey Your Dey ” and “In My Head”.
Even with the fast changing sounds and beats, Timaya continued releasing music in his own style. His recent catalogue includes “Big Man Ting”, with Skiibi and Teni, Patek with DJ Obi, Odeshi with Flavour and Yung Alpha and his 2026 single “Only God ”.
Twenty years in, Timaya’s catalogue tells the story of an artist who has consistently adapted without abandoning the sound that first made him recognized. From Dem Mama, to Bum Bum, Sanko, I Can’t Kill Myself and Only God, the records chart more than just a career, they document sounds and moments that shaped Timaya as a person, brand and career over the last two decades.
His London anniversary was therefore a celebration of longevity, effort and adaptability. It was also a reminder of how much music Timaya has deposited into the Nigerian soundscape and how many of his songs have soundtracked the scene's evolution in the past two decades.

‘Expansion.’ That’s the recurring remark Kenyan singer-songwriter and producer Njerae emphasizes throughout. Now, with the release of her two latest singles, “On My Own” (featuring KayCyy) and “Let Them Know,” she might be doing just that.
Since her breakout hit “Aki Sioni” off her 2022 debut album, Unintentional, Njerae’s natural aptitude to emote infectious tunes have resonated with fans who have dubbed her ‘lover girl’. With three studio albums in, across Afro-indie, R&B and Soul, becoming Kenya’s most streamed female artist last year, and being named among Apple Music’s Rising Class of 2025 is testament that Njerae has earned her mark in the game.
Deeds Magazine caught up with the ‘254’ crooner to chat about her artistry so far, the region’s music industry at home and the ambition to keep expanding her sound further.
Stanley for Deeds: For anyone reading this and discovering you for the first time, how would you introduce yourself?
I’m Njerae, a singer-songwriter, producer, and performing artist from Nairobi, Kenya. The OG one and only ‘lover girl.’ My music is geared towards human interaction, but mostly around the love side and the struggles and, you know, the things that come about with being in relationships, both platonic and intimate. I mostly focus on R&B but I am currently in a space where I'm trying to explore more and my two new songs are part of that exploration process.
Every era of your music has been a slightly different version of you figuring yourself out. What has manifested as your strongest growth?
I think more than anything, music has kind of given me that space to explore my vulnerability and to embrace that as well. Sometimes it can be hard to speak about the things that you want to speak about and for me from ‘Unintentional’ all the way to now, the most important thing is to allow a space where people can feel heard. So I try to write about the things that you wouldn't conventionally stand up in front of people and talk about. It's very in-depth with the emotion and vulnerability; honesty is something that I carry at the top of everything. I think the more honest the music is the more in touch it is with people. From my debut to now I've just been trying to allow myself to think deep into emotion compared to when that era where it was more of just doing this for vibes and whatnot. I’m more intentional with it now.
Where’s the line for you between being vulnerable in your art and protecting Njerae the person?
It's definitely an important thing. I like to protect my personal spaces. There's very many things outside of music that are part of my life that not everybody knows about. I'm not exactly shying away from tapping into that energy but at the same time, I'm also very aware to keep it separate from personal aspects of my life. So I will write a song about something that happened, but I'll keep away from specific details, that will make people get the full story. The whole idea is not for you to feel like the story is about Njerae, but it's about somebody, and it happened to Njerae as well.
Do you think you’ve become better at knowing when to hold on and when to let go of a relationship?
Yes and no. I think I've definitely grown from where I was, just from interactions that I've had even through the music. But at the same time, I still think I'm a human being and I'm still figuring everything out and the whole point of my music is for people to realize that, like, all of us are just in a space where we don't really know what we're doing. We want to seem like we do but we're all going through the same kind of shenanigans and we're trying to figure out. And we shouldn't feel like we're alone because certain problems may feel out of the norm. So the idea is not necessarily to be this kind of portrayed as a person who's 100% perfect and knows what they're doing. Personally, I'm willing to fail just so that I can show other people that you can overcome these things.
With KayCyy, you already had “Far Away,” so I’m curious about what changed between that collaboration and this one in “On My Own”?
Well, the first time it was definitely like an introduction to each other. We were still trying to figure each other out. I think with “On My Own” now, we've gotten a deeper understanding of each other. And we've also both grown as artists since we did “Far Away.” So in the new song, we're just trying to find a common ground and figure out how these two worlds can meet because KayCyy has his own world that he lives in and I have my own. And the single was kind of like trying to figure out how to bring those two perspectives together.
And “Let Them Know” feels like a different kind of vulnerability. You’ve written about love and heartbreak before, but is there something about the way you approach those emotions now that feels different from your earlier work?
I think right now it's more like an empowering voice. Before, it was more like, I'm a bit afraid. but the whole point, it's important right now for me, for people to realize that I am in a space where I have chosen to be in this space and I am doing these things because I want to do these things and despite what comes in between, I'm taking charge of and I'm taking control of my situation and the whole idea for both these two songs, is for them to have an empowering feeling rather than a bitter feeling. I feel like most times when it comes to love matters, people come out of it very bitter and they forget that it can be something that can help them grow.
Do you think success has made you more confident creatively, or has it actually made you more self-conscious? It's definitely come with a lot more freedom for me. Before I was in a space where I had to focus on several things at the same time, and now I'm just enjoying being in this space where I can just create and focus on the creation. I don't think I have so many limitations because I have a team behind me that's handling everything. I'm very grateful for the success. Let more of it come, please. [laughs]
What makes you hear a person and think, “I need to make something with them”? Is it the voice, the writing, their personality, or just that inexplicable chemistry?
I love to write from a point of when we know each other and we have a relationship. It's easier that way because the things that we write about are deep and emotional. That's not something that you can do with everyone. So I prefer to write with people who I have a personal connection with. But like I said, the ultimate goal is expansion. So I am open to working with artists and producers from not only Africa, but all over the world. Yes, be it through connection or not, I think it's a beautiful thing to see how these two musical worlds can collaborate with each other. At the end of the day, the whole point is for the music. So it's not necessarily about the relationship all the way. The music that comes out of it is what matters the most for me.

What has working with other artists taught you about your own sound?
It's super empowering. We're at a time where all eyes are on East Africa, which is amazing, and I feel honored personally to be a part of that squad that's carrying the Kenyan flag high. It's definitely hard. I think throughout all of my interviews, I've mentioned that I am very introverted and music has been a space for me to like come out of that situation and to open myself up more. So I've been doing that whilst also growing not only as a musician but as a person, which I love. And ultimately the goal is for this music that I'm doing to be like my own kind of therapy, you know. So if it's going to help me in my own personal life, not only in the music aspect, then it's doing a good job.
From where you’re sitting, what do you think the Kenyan music industry is doing well – and what are we still seriously getting wrong?
I think that we're in a good place where a lot of people are confident enough to put out their music and have their own shows. It's not something that we'd see a long time ago. I think we're still struggling in the consistency aspect though. That's the one thing that is holding us back from moving to a global stage. But other than that, I like how passionate people are now. It's no longer just about doing music for the money, but people are doing it because they see that it can actually work for them. And we're in a space where creativity is therapeutic to a lot of people. So it's important for mental health and whatnot, like just your daily livelihood.
So it's nice to see that we're in a space where music is embraced a lot more, not just as a career, but, you know, there's people who are doing like they're singing in like hospitals or, you know, they have people who are going to like children homes and they like just engage in like music situations. The whole point is just seeing how many artists are coming out of this industry, is just seeing the impact that music itself is having on the people.
Do you also think we as the Kenyan audience are becoming better at supporting homegrown music or talent, or do the Kenyan artists still have to prove themselves abroad before we fully appreciate them here?
We're at a very good time as artists not only in Kenya, but also East Africa. We're having so many shows that are sold out and it's not from people who are even coming from abroad. It's like our own. We've literally been having concerts weekly that are sold out and you'll be having the same people performing and people will still come out and watch the performances. I believe that we're going up and up. I love the place that we're in, people are listening and we're into more Kenyan music. Even the DJs are pushing out more Kenyan music. Artists are also putting in more work to upgrade their products. And I hope that we're able to maintain that same momentum and see where things go.

You’re also signed with Universal Music East Africa at a point when you’d already built a pretty distinct identity for yourself. What did you refuse to compromise on when you entered that system?
My message and my sound. Those are the two most important things for me to remain. I got signed at a time when 90% of my fans were letting me know how my music was very therapeutic to them. And every single time they listened to it, they just felt nice, refreshed, alive and like they could conquer the world. And for me, it was very important that that feeling is carried on even when I'm in the label. Both of those, especially my sound – the root, the core foundation of where I've come from. Yes, I'm doubling into like different genres and whatnot, but the co-foundation of who Njerae is, is something I don’t think that can change.
Having experienced the industry from several angles – independent artist, major-label artist, songwriter, producer, performer; if you could go back and give the Njerae who was just starting out one piece of brutally honest advice about the music business, what would you tell her?
It's not going to be easy. You're going to want to quit 75 times, but it's going to be so fulfilling. Personally, I'm glad that I've stuck out and I've made it through all these years and that I'm still doing it. The goal is for someone else to see me and think the same thing. I think just to tell her you should have started early, you should have gone through these things a lot earlier. It's not an easy journey, but it is definitely worth it.

Speaking of fulfillment, you sold-out your first Australian solo tour, which is such a different experience from performing for people who already know your story at home. Did being that far away from Kenya change the way you understood your own music or who your audience actually is?
A hundred percent. I think being here for a long time made me believe that my music is not moving farther than just here. But going to Australia I got to learn a lot of things, not only in the music space, but just to realize myself as an artist. Like I'm a dope person, and I'm doing my due, so I shouldn't be second-guessing myself. And I think that was the most important thing. Now I've come a lot fresher. I am so ready to just release some music. I've been writing a lot of stuff and I'm excited for people to hear as I share my experiences.
You’ve had a lot of things happen recently that look huge on paper – the international touring, the recognition, the AFRIMMA nomination, the numbers. What is something about this stage of your life that actually feels huge to you?
I think my fan responses are usually what get me the most. A lot of people will send me messages, they DM me, I interact with a lot of fans and like shows and stuff and just being able to have that one-on-one, first of all, is super. And just realizing how, aside from the fanbase and everything else, this music actually really speaks to them and it makes them feel good. So, yeah, that's usually the biggest win for me.
Now, looking ahead, you know, what are you actually trying to build, you know, not just the next song, you know, award, album?
Right now, I'm focused on expansion. I am looking to take Njerae to a global stage. So East Africa, outside Africa and we take this Kenyan sound to the rest of the world. The whole idea is pushing these collaborations and working with people that are not necessarily from our industries to just take our culture also to the other side.
You've also spoken quite a bit on some of your dream collaborations with people like Bien and Tems. Is there anything in the works and who’re other people out there that you want to work with?
What I can say is I've had a couple of interactions with some of my dream artist collaborations and their input has definitely made what is coming out right now. I won't really speak on collaborations. I don't have to spill too much tea, but yeah, I have delved into their brains and I've been able to also walk into their world, which is super amazing. Even just having coffee with Bien would finish my life and I'm still on that journey to find Tems. [laughs]
And lastly away from the serious artist questions. If we took away the music, the interviews, the stage and the whole Njerae persona, what is something completely unserious or slightly embarrassing that would immediately expose you as just a normal Kenyan girl?
I think I'd say I'm super clumsy. I bruise easily and I am very clumsy. So yeah, sometimes you'll see marks on my legs, which are just weird, random scars.
All photos courtesy of Njerae/Tofauti Vibes

For 15 years, the annual Hennessy Cypher has showcased African hip-hop talent across the continent and its diaspora. Each year, it curates a selection of artists representing the new class of rich, diverse talent across the continent.
Since its inception, the cypher has featured Didi B, Maglera Doe Boy, Octopizzo, Blaqbonez, Sarkodie, Zlatan, and M.anifest, among others. Its sonic DNA has evolved with sounds that have grown across the continent, showcasing the music's growth and evolution year after year. This year's class features Suspect 95 from Côte d'Ivoire, Yanga Chief from South Africa, Kwesi Arthur from Ghana, Fena Gitu from Kenya, British-Nigerian rapper Enny from the United Kingdom, and Tenor, who made history as the first artist from Cameroon featured in the cypher.

Produced by Sarz, the track showcases the diverse range of artistry and what each artist brings to the cypher, as creativity from the continent continues to flourish. From Afrobeats to Amapiano, African talent has grown in global reach and dominated over the last few years.
Hip-hop across Africa is vibrant and diverse, spreading from Senegal's Francophone sounds, like Positive Black Soul, to Ghana's highlife influences, like Ebo Taylor, and Southern African artists such as Nasty C and Cassper Nyovest. Each region brings its own individuality, allowing artists to identify and express themselves through poetry, lyrics, instrumentation, and emotion. It also lets them create genres that are unique to their communities and what they represent.

Since its inception in 2011, The Hennessy Cypher has grown into a platform and cultural moment that celebrates a unique class of artists in hip-hop and African music, allowing them to collaborate and express themselves in ways that showcase what they have to offer and represent their heritage across the continent.
This year is no different. In conversations with the featured class of 2026, we explore their love for hip-hop, what it means to represent this class of African talent, how their heritage has shaped their creativity, and the future of African hip-hop.
The Cypher celebrates talents from across the continent. What does it mean to you to represent this class of the Hennessy Cypher?
Sarz: Representing the 2026 Hennessy Cypher for Nigeria meant a lot to me because hip-hop has always been my first love. It was my first entry into music. I loved hip-hop, and listening to so much of it made me develop this love I have for music. So, shout out to hip-hop.
Tenor: It means not only are we reaching a new milestone, but that the focus on the work we do in Africa, and especially in French-speaking Africa in hip hop, is valued. Representing this generation in such an important project is a crowning achievement.

Suspect 95: I’m very proud of that, especially when looking at my own career and all my accomplishments. And I’m proud to bring my culture and colour to what we can now call an “institution” in African Hip Hop.
Yanga: I think it shows the self-belief that I’ve always carried in my style. There are seasons in rap where certain styles are the trend, but for me I’ve always just had my own unique approach. It’s allowed me to stay unpredictable; this Cypher was an opportunity to share that signature flow with the rest of the continent.
Where did your love for hip-hop start?
Fena Gitu: I grew up around hip-hop. Buruburu in the ’90s was one of Nairobi’s coolest cultural hubs, especially during the rise of matatu culture. I grew up in the heart of 58, absorbing everything from the rap flows and street language to the fashion and attitude. I sang and rapped in school, sharpening my skill behind the mic.

Kwesi Arthur: My love for hip-hop started in my grandmother’s house in Tema, Ghana. My uncle had a Life After Death CD, which I remember as the first hip-hop album I ever listened to. I also constantly heard hip-hop mixes on the radio, from Tupac to Obrafour, Kwaw Kese, Kwade, etc. I used to listen to Kasahare on the radio a lot too, around when Sarkodie started. I’ve been tapped in since then. My love for it extends to all its subgenres, its art, fashion, and more.
What would you say has influenced your musical style?
Sarz: A lot of things passively, hip-hop being one of them, and African music my dad used to listen to a lot of Ebenezer Obey, Fela, and King Sunny Ade. I think, subconsciously, that created a mix of things I listened to, which was hip-hop, and things I heard passively, which was African music.
Suspect: I’m influenced by Ivorian culture, which is a very strong culture, my environment of course and the places where I grew up: Cocody, Blockhaus in Abidjan.
Fena: My style has been shaped by curiosity and by how unpredictable music can be. I have never wanted to be confined to one sound, so I draw from hip-hop, R&B, neo-soul, Afro-fusion and the rhythms around me. I am always exploring what else I can do while protecting the signature.
Tenor: Cameroonian music in general
How much of your heritage has impacted your style of music?
Fena: Deeply. I was born and raised in Nairobi, and the city’s sound, language, pace and cultural mix are embedded in my music. Travelling from a young age also exposed me to different people and sounds, giving me a wider perspective. My music comes from Nairobi, but stays curious about the world.
Kwesi: A big piece of it is inspired by my heritage. What I talk about, the way I say what I say, choice of instruments, etc., it’s all Ghana.
When you think about hip-hop talent across the continent, what do you think is one thing that makes it stand out in terms of showcasing what different parts of the continent have to offer?
Fena: The diversity and the elegance. How far we have evolved. There is so much beauty in how differently we express ourselves across the continent, but also a real sense of unity.
Tenor: What truly distinguishes African talent is its cultural richness and diversity. It has an incomparable origin and purity. We feel the true cradle of humanity.
What inspires your creative process?
Sarz: Anything. I'm inspired by ideas, sometimes by ideas that do not exist. I'm inspired by things I like, and I fuse genres. I'm inspired by peace, and other people's music inspires me. It could be anything.
Fena: My creative process is spontaneous, even though lately it is often shaped by active projects and deadlines, with less room to wander than I had before. Even then, I still leave space for instinct, experimentation and surprise. That allows me to preserve the signature Fenamenal flow and explore.
How do you feel about where African hip-hop is, and what are you excited about in the future?
Sarz: There's new talent always coming in, and I'm excited to see where they take hip-hop and how they fuse it with being African and our African genres and instruments, and make something unique that might change the world.
Tenor: African hip hop continues to make its way, and it can be felt. Diversity is a real asset. I am enthusiastic about the impact I know it will have worldwide. People are increasingly discovering incredible performances in every sense of the word concerning us.
Yanga Chief: I think it’s in safe hands. We need to let it evolve and become what it wants to. As long as it continues to represent us and our stories, I feel like it can keep growing in ways we can’t predict.
Suspect: African Hip Hop is a strong musical genre and has many amazing artists to make it grow again. I’m excited to see how African hip hop adapts to this new era with AI and stuff to become even stronger.
Fena: We have come a long way to have African hip-hop on global platforms such as this. It shows that Africa is NOW, and Africa is the future. I am excited to see more collaboration across the continent that pushes forward a positive narrative of Africa. The world is watching, and this is our opportunity to put ourselves firmly among the global greats. Hip-hop never dies. Hip-hop takes her time, perfects her craft and stands the test of time.
Kwesi: It’s exciting to see where African hip-hop is today. I love that it’s more accepted among our people now than it used to be years ago. I feel we have found a way to make it in our own authentic way. The growth in sound and its diversity is exciting to see, too.
ENNY: I think it shows how African hip hop is constantly evolving and refining. Language is not a barrier and feeling is universal. There are so many different sounds, cultures and perspectives within African music and hip hop. I think the Cypher is a really good example of how all of those things can exist alongside each other. You don’t necessarily need to understand every word to understand the energy or connect with what someone is saying. I think that’s what makes it exciting, there isn’t one direction it has to go in.

For most of 2026, Zendaya has been living in several different versions of Hollywood at once. She opened the year with The Drama, a dark relationship comedy from Kristoffer Borgli. She returned to Euphoria for its third and final season. She played Athena in Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey. She came back as MJ in Spider-Man: Brand New Day. Dune: Part Three is still coming in December. The projects could hardly be more different. -Their range makes Zendaya’s 2026 especially interesting: the contexts keep changing, and she remains the most reliable presence in each.
Taken together, these roles make the idea of a recognisable or typecasted ‘Zendaya role’ increasingly difficult to sustain.

The Drama was an unusual place to start. Borgli's film cast her opposite Robert Pattinson as a couple whose engagement unravels after a revelation, and the role asked her to be genuinely hard to read. Zendaya has built much of her public image on familiarity and control- the Disney years, the carefully managed red-carpet presence, the franchise roles that gave audiences a clear version of her to follow. Emma, the character she plays in The Drama, offers none of that. The film itself divided critics, but Zendaya and Pattinson were consistently identified as its strongest elements.

Euphoria returning after four years off the air was always going to be complicated. The third season moved its characters into their twenties and away from the high school setting that defined the first two. The critical response was divided - Variety called it "entertaining but disjointed fan fiction," the Hollywood Reporter described the season as "uneven," and the show's Rotten Tomatoes score settled at 43 percent, significantly lower than previous seasons. The recurring observation across reviews was that the show's signature chaos, which had felt raw and dangerous when it was happening to teenagers, lost some of its charge when applied to characters in their mid-twenties. Sam Levinson's maximalism no longer had adolescence to justify it.
Reviews frequently separated their assessment of Zendaya from their assessment of the season. Collider wrote that she "instantly reminds you why she's won two Emmys." The Hollywood Reporter placed her Rue Bennett "immediately adjacent" to television's most compelling antiheroes. The Cinema Group described her performance as "both controlled and instinctive, capable of meeting the tonal extremes around her without losing emotional clarity." Her Emmy nomination for the role, announced in July, gave her the chance to become the first Black woman and the youngest performer to win Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series three times.

The Odyssey put her somewhere else entirely. Nolan's adaptation of Homer's epic is one of the major cinema events of the year, and Zendaya plays Athena alongside Matt Damon, Tom Holland and Anne Hathaway. She is not the film's centre. The interesting thing about her position in the ensemble is that it no longer needs to be. The actress who spent years proving she could carry a project has reached a point where her presence in a film shapes how audiences approach it, regardless of her screen time. That became clearer again with Spider-Man: Brand New Day. The film picks up after Peter Parker sacrifices his relationships by having the world forget he exists, which means MJ has no memory of him or their history. Zendaya is playing a character audiences feel they know, while inhabiting a version of MJ who no longer shares their knowledge of her history.

Running alongside all of this is the fashion work, which by 2026 has become its own category of cultural event. Law Roach and Zendaya have spent years developing what is commonly called "method dressing" - building press tour wardrobes that respond to the films being promoted rather than simply to the season's trends. For The Drama, they committed to a bridal coding across the entire press run. For The Drama, they carried a bridal theme through the press tour: a Schiaparelli Haute Couture gown made from 65,000 blue and black raw-silk feathers at the New York premiere; an all-white Francesco Scognamiglio Couture look for daytime press; and a custom Louis Vuitton gown with an oversized black bow at the Paris premiere. WithDune: Part Three's CinemaCon appearance in April, Roach pulled a body-moulded Schiaparelli skirt suit in sand-coloured textured fabric.. The logic running through all of it is the same one that produced the vintage Mugler robot suit for Dune: Part Two and the tennis whites for Challengers: the clothes are doing promotional work that interviews and trailers cannot. A red carpet look circulates before a film has been seen by anyone, giving audiences a relationship with the project before it is released..
Dune: Part Three arrives in December. Denis Villeneuve's adaptation of Dune Messiah picks up seventeen years after Part Two, giving Zendaya a Chani whose relationship with Paul Atreides has become considerably more complicated. It will be her fourth film release and fifth major screen project of the year.
Her 2026 has not been uniformly successful. Euphoria drew widespread criticism, The Drama divided critics, and some reviews found Spider-Man: Brand New Day overstuffed and MJ underused. What has not happened is that any of those projects dragged her reputation with them. Her performances have been judged separately from the productions containing them—a position most actors spend entire careers trying to reach. She is 29. She has been working professionally since she was a teenager. What 2026 has demonstrated so far, more than any single performance, is that she has built a reputation durable enough to survive an uneven season.
IG: sophiannadozie

Victony has officially stepped into his sophomore era, proving that his global breakthrough was only the beginning. STARLIFE represents a critical evolution in modern Afropop a project where the Nigerian superstar takes full artistic control, writing and producing across a genre-bending landscape that blends Afrobeats, R&B, rock, techno, and retro nostalgia. Having followed his trajectory closely as he transformed from a rising talent into a visionary sonic architect, experiencing this 15-track album firsthand reveals a artist fearlessly bridging traditional African rhythms with futuristic global sounds.
This body of work pushes further into experimentation with immersive production, elastic rhythms, playful songwriting, and an effortless cool. Supported by guest appearances from FOLA, BNXN, Young Jonn, Blaqbonez, and YKB, the album showcases a superstar who refuses to be boxed into a single sound.
The sonic journey begins smoothly before shifting gears directly onto the dance floor. The opening highlight, "Too Lit," sets the stage with kinetic electricity, powered by melodic 80s-inspired synths and vintage arrangements that instantly establish the album's energetic atmosphere. As the record progresses, Victony weaves through lush string instruments, dynamic percussion, and classic 80s and 90s guitar riffs. By the time track six, "Frne," drops, the transition to high-energy club anthems is complete the instant the beat hits, it transports listeners straight into the center of a crowded dance floor.
Victony’s vocal range remains one of his strongest assets, shifting effortlessly from a velvety, smoky mid-range to high, dreamy melodies that balance lover-boy charm with undeniable swagger. This dynamic delivery shines brightest on "Slick," where his lustrous tone pairs flawlessly with the beat to create an irresistible, seductive energy. It is the ultimate pre-game anthem a song built for getting ready before a night out and guaranteeing all eyes are on you when it hits the speakers.
That supreme confidence continues on "2Fresh," led by smooth delivery and sharp swagger, while "Armed" shifts gears into a mesmerizing, hypnotic trance created by atmospheric melodies and driving drums. As the album moves into a more melodic close, "Missing Piece" caters directly to lovers, delivering an intimate, heartfelt ode to keeping the one close to you.
I am thoroughly impressed by this elevated body of work the sharp writing, the rich instrumentation, the expansive vocal range, and the seamless features all converge to create something exceptional. It is an absolute must-listen from start to finish. With STARLIFE, Victony delivers a versatile, genre-defying masterpiece that captures the pulse of modern music while honoring timeless influences.

Nigerian rap has never had a shortage of talent. What it has had is a shortage of infrastructure - the kind that takes a rapper from a dimly lit bedroom in central Lagos to a global stage with a live band, in front of an audience that showed up specifically to listen.
Ola Blackz understands this gap better than most. He is a percussionist and drummer who fell in love with hip-hop, and the combination produced something neither world could have built alone: GLSessions, a live music platform dedicated to discovering, developing and showcasing Nigeria's emerging rap talent through the specific energy of live instrumentation.
The platform operates on a simple premise;rap music heard liveis a fundamentally different experience from the same music heard through a speaker. The cypher format, the freestyle session, the collaborative performance with live percussion and rhythm are statements about what music can do when it is allowed to be visceral. Nigeria has had cypher culture for years, most visibly through the Hennessy Cyphers that have been running since 2015, but GLSessions approaches the format as a creative hub where artists can sharpen their craft, gain visibility, and exist within a community of musicians who are genuinely invested in each other's growth.

The mainstream conversation around Nigerian music has been dominated by Afrobeats for over a decade. But rap has never stopped existing in Nigeria. It has existed in studios, in underground shows, in cyphers, in the work of artists who kept going despite the absence of the kind of platforms that make careers legible to wider audiences. GLSessions exists to make that work visible, and to provide the conditions it needs to grow on its own terms.
The live instrumentation dimension is the most distinctive thing about what Ola Blackz brings to this space. As a percussionist, he understands rhythm from the inside. That perspective shapes how GLSessions stages its sessions, the energy it creates in a room, the specific way it documents what happens when a rapper's verse lands against live drums in real time. The vision that drives all of this is straightforward: every talented rapper deserves a stage, a platform, and an opportunity to be heard. That commitment seems more radical than it sounds. In all, Ola Blackz is building GLSessions for the rappers who are still finding their path, because they too matter.
IG: sophiannadozie
Nigerian Pop fusionist Victony has been tenderly evolving since 2016 -- freestyles on SoundCloud, covers of Cardi B and Burna Boy, a small online community that kept growing. The lockdown of 2020 pushed him toward his singing voice, a side of himself his producers had always noticed but he had never fully leaned into. His 2022 opus, Soweto introduced him to the world. Two years later, his debut album Stubborn gave that world more to hold onto. Now, with FRE$H and SLICK already out and a mixtape called Starlife dropping August 21, the young bard is in a period he describes as "just vibes." Born Anthony Ebuka, Victony is an artist in full possession of himself and Starlife is where that shows most clearly. Catching up with Deeds Magazine, we spoke about his evolution, the current state of Afrobeats, and the world he is building with Starlife.
Sophia for Deeds: For anyone reading this and discovering you for the first time, how would you introduce yourself?
I'm Ebuka Anthony, aka Victony. A young artist from Lagos, Nigeria.I grew up in Ojo, Lagos. I'm an upcoming creative director - I'm mastering that on the loop.
You started as a rapper on SoundCloud in 2016, covering Cardi B and Burna Boy, and somewhere along the way you became one of the most distinctive voices in Afrobeats. When did you realise the rapper was becoming something else?
It was like 2020. Before then I used to do Instagram freestyles and I had a small online community. I'd put up covers every now and then. Then 2020 came - lockdown and I guess that was a different time in everyone's life. Out of boredom, we were forced to try something different. So I explored my singing side. My producers always told me I had a good voice - once in a while I'd do hooks, and one of my first releases, 'Sing My Song', I sang on it. But I never just thought I would be a singer. Then in 2020 I started trying more singing, started getting comfortable with it, and the rest from there has been history.
When FRE$H was being teased, people saw Blaqbonez in the studio video and immediately assumed there was a feature. What was going through your mind watching all of that play out before the song dropped?
I don't know why people thought it was a feature. I really can't control how fans think. Obviously I wanted it to be a proper release and at the time I just wasn't ready to put it out. If you follow me closely, you know I tease music when I don't have music out, just to entertain the fans. It doesn't necessarily mean I want to put it out. FRE$H just happened to demand at the time - I didn't anticipate it. When the time was right, I eventually put it out.
Soweto made a name outside Nigeria - TikTok, UK charts, the remix with Rema and Don Toliver. Did that moment change how you think about who you're making music for?
No. Not at all. Even at the time when I released it, I was still discovering myself, growing a relationship with my audience, knowing what my pocket truly is - because I'm a versatile artist. From Soweto till now, it's still been a learning process for me.
People have a lot of opinions about where Afrobeats is headed right now. What's your take on the state of the sound?
I think it's progressing into something new. With the emergence of so many new artists in this scene right now that are just extremely bold and confident, and even us - household names - finding new pockets and pushing it forward. It's moulding into something beautiful. It's going to be in a state we've never seen it in before. It's not going to be the usual monopoly where it's just Wizkid or Davido or Burna or Rema. Everyone is starting to have their own fan base, which is beautiful to see. The listeners are also having a mind of their own - people are finding their style and sticking to it. I've seen so many new artists with new sounds, in different pockets, growing their communities. This is happening here in Nigeria and this is Afrobeats. I'm curious to see what it moves into, but I'm positive about the results.

Starlife drops August 21. Give us an insight into what the mixtape is actually about - what world are you building with it?
Freedom. Authenticity. I'm actually just having fun. This is one of the projects I took very seriously and at the same time didn't take very seriously. Making sure the sound, the production, my delivery - it's top notch. But it's also very witty and playful. I don't think I've ever been this playful before, this carefree, genuinely enjoying myself. Starlife just shows growth. It shows me fully confident in my own skin. It shows authenticity, maturity, me just talking about the things that I like. It's Victor they haven't seen before.
The Odumodublvck and Blaqbonez beef was one of the biggest conversations in Nigerian hip-hop recently. As someone in the music space, how do you navigate that kind of tension - do you think beef is good or bad for the culture?
To be honest, Odumodublvck and Blaqbonez are two people I know, really nice guys. I think the misunderstanding has just been blown out of proportion and I just hope one day they figure it out. It's between both of them. I know both guys and I think it's a very huge misunderstanding on both ends.
You've worked with artists like Rema, Don Toliver, Asake, Burna Boy and SAINt JHN across your career. At this point, is there anyone you genuinely wish you could get in the studio with, locally or internationally, that hasn't happened yet?
I want to make music with anybody that just does something different. I'm really just experimenting. I don't really have that one person. Obviously I've always wanted to make music with Drake - that's one of my biggest inspirations, so that doesn't change. But I'm also open to diving into different worlds and seeing what comes out of it. Old, young, new. I'm open to collaborating with people that I really like.
Are there any upcoming visuals, tour dates or projects in the pipeline beyond Starlife that people should keep an eye out for?
I have a few shows coming up in the US and Canada. I have Afroplus in September as well. Possibly some headline concerts in Europe and America. For sure, Bonfire this year - that's an annual thing I do. And definitely the project visuals. Just fun times.
What motivates you?
Just feeling purposeful. That's been my biggest motivation right now - truly finding what my purpose is. I feel like one way to do that is utilizing my talents to the max. Every day I go hard, every day I'm creating. I want to find what my purpose truly is. I'm just enjoying the journey and trying to feel purposeful every day.
So bumbum is no longer part of the motivation?
(laughs) We like it though.
As we wrap up, what do you want people to understand about this period of your career that the music alone might not be saying?
I don't think there's anything deep. I feel like people get it and if you don't get it, I don't know. At this moment, it's just vibes.

What Happened to Nike? The Swoosh Is Fighting for Its Place in Culture Again
Nike is having one of the most difficult moments in its modern history.
On August 17, its stock closed at its lowest level since 2014. Shares are now roughly 78% below Nike’s 2021 all-time high, while the company’s market value has fallen to around $58 billion.
For a company that has spent decades operating as something bigger than sportswear, that drop is difficult to ignore.
But the stock price is only the headline.
The more interesting question is how Nike — the company behind Jordan, Air Max, Dunks, some of football’s most memorable kits and generations of era-defining advertising — ended up here.
There isn’t one answer. There are several.
Nike bet too heavily on going direct
For years, Nike wanted more control.
The company pushed consumers toward Nike.com, SNKRS and its own stores while reducing its dependence on traditional wholesale partners.
The logic was clear: own the customer relationship, own the data, keep more of the sale.
The problem was that retailers were doing more than selling Nike shoes. They were putting Nike in front of people.
When Nike pulled back, competitors gained valuable shelf space and visibility.
That strategy is now being corrected. In Nike’s latest quarter, wholesale revenue rose 4% to $6.6 billion, while Nike Direct fell 7% and Nike Brand Digital dropped 12%.
Nike is effectively rebuilding parts of the distribution network it once deliberately reduced.
Too much of a good thing became too much
Nike owns silhouettes other brands would spend billions trying to create.
The Air Force 1. Dunk. Air Jordan 1.
But heritage can become a weakness when it is asked to do too much.
Over the last few years, some of Nike’s most recognisable franchises became almost impossible to escape. More colourways. More releases. More availability.
Products once powered by scarcity started feeling increasingly familiar.
That does not mean people stopped buying Nike. Nike still generated $46.4 billion in revenue in fiscal 2026.
The issue is heat.
For decades Nike was exceptional at producing the feeling that its next shoe, athlete or campaign was something you needed to pay attention to.
That feeling became less automatic as familiar franchises flooded the marketplace and competitors produced genuinely desirable alternatives.
The rest of the industry got better
Nike didn't suddenly forget how to make sneakers.
Everyone else improved.
On and Hoka have disrupted performance running. New Balance has moved comfortably between sport, fashion and street culture. ASICS and Salomon have found new audiences. Adidas has continued fighting for lifestyle relevance.
Nike was already losing market-share momentum to brands such as On and Hoka when its stock suffered its then-worst-ever single-day fall in 2024.
This matters because the modern consumer doesn't need one sportswear brand to do everything anymore.
A running shoe can come from On.
A fashion shoe can be Salomon.
A grey New Balance can become an everyday uniform.
An Adidas silhouette can suddenly become the shoe of the summer.
Nike is still enormous. What has disappeared is the assumption that Nike automatically wins every conversation.
Then there is China
If there is one part of Nike’s problem that can be seen clearly in the numbers, it is Greater China.
In Nike’s latest quarter, sales there fell 17% on a currency-neutral basis, continuing a prolonged period of weakness. Reuters reported that the company expects challenges in the region to persist as it works through inventory, competition and changing consumer demand.
At the same time, Chinese sportswear companies have become much stronger.
Anta, Li-Ning, Xtep, 361 Degrees and Zhongqiao are no longer simply cheaper alternatives to Western brands. They are developing their own technologies, athletes, identities and increasingly sophisticated relationships with Chinese consumers.
Nike’s sales in China have now declined for eight consecutive quarters.
A market that once represented one of Nike’s most exciting growth stories has become one of its hardest problems.
Nike is rebuilding while everyone else keeps moving
Elliott Hill returned to Nike as CEO in 2024.
His response has been telling.
Nike has reorganised itself around sport again — running, basketball, football and other disciplines — through what it calls its “Sport Offense.” The idea is to bring athlete insight, product innovation and storytelling back closer together.
Wholesale is growing again. North America has shown improvement. New footwear is entering the pipeline.
But turnarounds don't happen in isolation.
Nike is trying to regain momentum while dealing with aggressive competition, pressure in China, tariffs, inventory issues and cautious consumers. The company has warned that weakness could continue into the first half of fiscal 2027.
That is why investors remain unconvinced.
The bigger problem is the aura
And this is where the Nike story becomes more interesting than its stock chart.
Nike’s superpower was never simply scale.
It understood how to take sport and turn it into culture.
Michael Jordan wasn't simply an endorsement.
Air Jordan became its own universe.
Air Max travelled from performance running into London, Paris, Amsterdam and street culture around the world.
Nike football campaigns made commercials feel like cultural events.
Virgil Abloh took ten familiar Nike silhouettes and made an entire generation look at them differently.
For decades, Nike had an unusual ability to take something functional and make it feel mythological.
The company has not completely lost that ability.
But it no longer possesses the cultural field almost by default.
Fashion moves faster. Sneaker communities are more fragmented. Performance consumers have more credible choices. Local brands have become stronger. Young consumers can discover the next object of desire without Nike being anywhere near it.
That distinction matters.
Nike has not become irrelevant. It has become less inevitable.
And those are two very different things.
At $46.4 billion in annual revenue, Nike isn't disappearing tomorrow.
The real challenge facing Elliott Hill is bigger than getting Wall Street excited again.
Nike has to make great products.
It has to repair the marketplace.
It has to solve China.
It has to give consumers reasons to care about something beyond another familiar silhouette.
And, perhaps hardest of all, it has to rediscover the thing that made the Swoosh so powerful in the first place,
the ability to make sport feel like the centre of culture.

For a company that thrives on nostalgia, Disney knows how to make the past feel spectacularly new. That was the clearest message from the latest D23: The Ultimate Disney Fan Event 2026, where a gathering of Disney Princess performers celebrated the company's legacy before the weekend turned toward its next generation of blockbusters.
D23 is essentially Disney's biggest showcase. It is a biennial gathering where the entertainment giant looks back at the characters and stories that built its cultural empire while teasing its next chapter. Named after 1923, the year Walt Disney founded his first studio, the event brings together Disney Animation, Pixar, Marvel, Lucasfilm and Disney+ for a weekend of announcements, performances and fan celebrations.
Disney Princess: The Ultimate Concert Celebration brought together performers from across Disney’s animated, live-action and stage history at Disney California Adventure last Thursday ahead of the main D23 event. Brandy, Halle Bailey, Jodi Benson, Anika Noni Rose, Auliʻi Cravalho, Paige O’Hara and other performers associated with Disney Princesses took the stage for a celebration Disney billed as the largest gathering of Disney Princess talent ever assembled.

The lineup represented several generations of Disney storytelling. Bailey, who played Ariel in the 2023 live-action The Little Mermaid, shared the stage with Benson, who voiced the character Ariel in the 1989 animated classic. O’Hara, the voice of Belle in Beauty and the Beast, appeared alongside Susan Egan, who originated Belle in the Broadway musical, while Cravalho and Catherine Lagaʻaia represented two generations of Moana. The concert celebrated where Disney has been and clarified its next direction.
Also, Marvel Studios closed out the showcase with the long-awaited reveal of its new X-Men cast. Sadie Sink will play Jean Grey, Kit Connor as Cyclops, Christopher Abbott portrays Professor X, with Maya Boyd coming in as Storm.Inde Navarrette will play Rogue, Samara Weaving will portray Emma Frost and Adam Driver will play Mister Sinister. The film is currently scheduled for release in May 2028. Marvel also showed more trailers of the upcoming Avengers: Doomsday, while Disney+ announced its new miniseries VisionQuest, starring Paul Bettany and James Spader, for October 14.
Meanwhile, Lucasfilm offered a first look at Star Wars: Starfighter, starring Ryan Gosling. Set after The Rise of Skywalker, the film is scheduled for release in 2027, arriving as the latest attempt to push the Star Wars universe into stories beyond the original Skywalker saga. Disney Animation and Pixar were equally committed to familiar names. Fan-favorites such as Frozen 3 is set for release in November 2027, with Disney teasing Anna and Kristoff’s wedding and a new female antagonist. Pixar announced Incredibles 3 for summer 2028 and Coco 2 for November 2029, while Zootopia 3 is in development, following the blockbuster success of last year’s Zootopia 2.


The nostalgia continued with Disney’s live-action Tangled adaptation, which received a first look at D23. Fans were introduced to Kathryn Hahn’s take on Mother Gothel, bringing a new live-action interpretation to one of the more memorable villains in Disney’s modern animated canon. The reveal is another example of Disney revisiting its catalogue while recasting familiar characters for a new generation.
Finally, the weekend also brought the announcement of a Bluey movie and a new project featuring Disney’s early animation character Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, further expanding Disney’s already enormous franchise pipeline. What made D23 notable, however, wasn't simply the number of film release announcements. It was the way Disney connected them. The princess concert was a celebration of the performers and characters that have shaped Disney for decades. Hours later, the company was introducing the characters it hopes will define its next era. From Cinderella and Ariel to Jean Grey, Mother Gothel and the next generation of Pixar heroes, D23 showed how Disney continues to harness the cultural currency of nostalgia.
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Ayra Starr dropped Starrgirl today and spent the lead-up to it counting down from a hospital bed, which for an album rollout is not the kind of commitment you see every week. The week had more going on. Here is what else deserved attention.
Ayra Starr dropped Starrgirl

Starrgirl dropped today. The album, spanning sixteen tracks, with guest features from Wizkid, Rema, ZAYN and Leon Thomas, seems to be a new chapter in Ayra’s journey. Even before its release, the purple gele on the cover had inspired people online to film themselves tying their own. She has described the project as being about existing in multitudes, and the tracklist backs that idea up:a Wizkid duet sits next to a ZAYN ballad and Rema’s appearance on "Who's Dat Girl." Early reviews keep calling it her most complete work. That's a better compliment than "biggest."
Meji Meji Takes On New York In North American Tour

Meji Meji began itsNorth American Tour, Home Is Not One Place, with eight stops scheduled between Houston in June and Washington D.C.. in September. The routes changed when several dates were postponed mid-tour. The brand directly apologized to fans directly saying it needed time to put the "the necessary provisions” in place. Atlanta resumed the journey on July 26 at Haus 419 under the theme Home Is Within Us. Toronto followed on Aug. 2 at The Annex Hotel’s lobby bar. Held during Caribana for the second consecutive year, the stop carried the theme Home in the Rhythm. New York is the tour’s current destination, teased through Instagram Stories, with Minneapolis, Los Angeles and Washington DC still on the schedule.. For the Minneapolis stop on Aug. 22, Meji Meji partnered with Samambo World for a cruise down Hennepin Avenue and created an exclusive piece for the city. Tolu Oye founded Meji Meji aroundNollywood graphics and Y2K silhouettes. The brand has picked up partnerships with Nordstrom, Topicals and Nike along the way, expanding its reach. Every tour caption runs through a maternal voice the brand calls Mama, which turns a pop-up tour into something closer to a family visiting each city in turn.
JT Keeps Picking Brands That Actually Fit Her

Topicals just added JT to its Faded lineup, fronting the new Dark Spot Peel Pads under the hashtag #FadedByAnyMeans. It's a multi-acid and retinol pad, out now on the topicals website and Sephora. Topicals has built its identity on working with Black women who use the products they're promoting, and JT reads as an actual fit, not a paid detour. The brand talks about skin conditions and mental health in the same breath, which is still rare for skincare marketing that usually keeps those two things apart.
OB70 Slipped a Womenswear Line Into Its Beach Collection

OB70 made its name on Lekki streetwear. It was founded by ClassyKinging who named the label after a childhood nickname from his father's 70th birthday. This month, the brand released Expansion Pack, a collection built around beach afternoons and Lagos coastal light -- bright and sun-soaked in a way that reads like heat rather than describing it. Inside that same drop sits OB70 Babes, the brand's first womenswear line, carrying the same colors and cuts as the men's pieces it was folded into rather than launching as its own separate rollout.
Old Navy Made Itself Look Expensive

Cardi B frontsOld Navy's "Most Wanted Denim" campaign with Wisdom Kaye, Quen Blackwell, Paloma Elsesser, Brooks Nader and Haley Baylee. Shot on a desert set, the campaign borrows the visual language of a Western. It is the second chapter in Old Navy’s “It’s Old Navy” series, which began with Paris Hilton earlier this summer. The clothes moved quickly after the campaign launched, with several washes selling out soon afterwards. Cardi B also talked about growing up shopping there for Fourth of July outfits, which does more marketing work than a slogan could. It's rare to watch a mall brand borrow luxury pacing, a cast, a set, a story, without the price tag following it there. The jeans start at $22.The campaign also arrived during the week “WAP” earned Diamond certification, becoming Cardi’s fourth single to reach the milestone. August is simply confirming things about Cardi that were already clear.
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