In the pantheon of Afropop production, few – if any – producers come close to Don Jazzy. Certainly, no one person boasts the mix of longevity, allure, critical acclaim, overall creative influence, and the well-stacked catalogue full of culture-defining moments that Micheal Ajereh possesses. Since stepping back on Nigerian soil in 2004, the music polymath has ploughed hard at creating an enabling environment for popular Nigerian music to thrive while simultaneously co-creating the music that soundtracked the upbringing of at least one generation of Nigerian kids.
Strangely, despite being attuned to the pulse of his music and the familiarity of his production, not many of his audience can claim to know Don Jazzy in the proprietorial fashion fans claim to know music superstars. For the longest time, it was near impossible to get a read on the man whose fingerprints are all over some of the body of works – Curriculum Vitae, The Entertainer & Mushin 2 Mo’ Hits – that have shaped contemporary Nigerian music, and global pop by extension.
In the early days, that mysterious air was engendered by the telekinetic nature of his relationship with erstwhile creative and business partner, D’Banj, as well as his curated public persona and the impressive composure he displayed when he did wander into the public’s eye. The rise in popularity of social media and a loosening of that guardedness has, over the years, opened up Don Jazzy to the generation that grew up adoring his music. Still, it has not been hard to clock that for all the access social media gave, fans could only see Don Jazzy through a smoky mirror and that the Don was happy to recede to the shadows when it suited him.
On April 1, online radio, Bounce, premiered the first part of an extensive conversation with Don Jazzy, as part of its Black Box Interview series hosted by Ebuka Obi-Uchendu. That opening part touched on Jazzy’s upbringing, his origin story, and the circumstances that set him on the road to becoming one of the most successful Nigerian music entrepreneurs of the 21st century. Days later, the second, concluding part was also released, and together those conversations represent some of the most insightful and contextual information on Don Jazzy. After listening, we have selected a couple of points from the interview that we find exciting.
Classmate with OC Ukeje
Despite the popular conception that Don Jazzy grew up in Ajegunle, some of the most lucid moments of his life were spent in Egbeda and the Don attended the Federal Government College at Ijanikin where he was a classmate with Nollywood actor, OC Ukeje. The duo were also best friends and part of a musical group called the Ministration Voices before Don Jazzy broke off to form another musical alliance with stronger and more popular school colleagues. At a point, around SSS 2, Don Jazzy started failing in school work on purpose and that led to him not making the requisite grades to apply for university admission after secondary school. After leaving secondary school, he went to Lagos City Computer College and moved to Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma to study Business Administration.
Moving to London
When academics at Ambrose Alli University wasn’t working, Don Jazzy moved to London on the invitation of his uncle to seek alternate academic options and while there he worked as an office clerk, security guard, and music instrumentalist. He typically charged between £150 and £200 pounds per service to play at churches around London.
He met Soji Solek while playing for another musician, Jide Chord, and they formed a band called Solek crew with one other person called Micheal. Solek taught Don Jazzy how to program beats on keyboards and they played at restaurants and events like weddings. The band performed a medley of juju, R&B, and hip-hop songs and were making constant money, getting up to £500 at minimum per person from each show at the peak of their music venture. Over time, Soji wanted to form his own band and the Solek crew came to an end because Don Jazzy didn’t take the news well. That led to him meeting with JJC.
JJC
While he was in the Solek crew, Kas (of “Fimile” and “Wine 4 Me” fame) found Don Jazzy and was impressed with his skill level. He wanted Don Jazzy to produce for him and that was the first time Don Jazzy intently heard about the technicalities of production, as he only made his beats on computers. The first beat he made for Kas was made on a keyboard and Kas took the keyboard to a studio to strip the beat and record over it.
That continued for a while until they met with JJC. The first time JJC heard a Don Jazzy beat was at a Nigerian wedding where Kas was DJ-ing at. At the time, JJC was looking for a producer and told Kas to come to his studio with Jazzy. That meeting was the first time Don Jazzy made a beat with a computer, but it wasn’t a great beat and he left JJC’s. Two weeks later, he returned and kept practicing and within two days he had gotten the hang of it. At that time, he contributed to a soundtrack for a Scooby Doo movie. For close to a year, he worked extensively with JJC but when a contract was presented to codify their relationship, it didn’t reflect what Don Jazzy thought was a partnership and that led to him leaving the JJC and 419 squad group.
Mo’Hits
After picking a name for Mo’Hits and returning to Nigeria, what followed was an intense period of Don Jazzy’s life where he had to balance creating music with worrying about the financial implication of pursuing music. At a point in the early years, Mo’Hits was almost sold to Storm Records for about N1 million but the deal never happened. Shortly after, D’Banj got his first endorsement deal for about N20 million from Power Fist.
One of the most intriguing details about Don Jazzy in the earliest years was his mysticism and he said that came about from a conversation with DJ Tee and a conscious decision to allow D’banj be the face of the label. As the label expanded, they signed more artists like K Switch and D’Prince who had been with them since the beginning, Dr Sid was a close friend of D’Banj’s, so it was a natural evolution to him being on the label.
Mo’Hits fallout
The relationship between Don Jazzy and D’banj started to falter before the G.O.O.D. Music deal happened because of a build-up of some unresolved issues that Don Jazzy didn’t touch on. They went ahead with the G.O.O.D. Music deal because they felt it was a great opportunity and that their relationship would survive the fallout of the deal. In Don Jazzy’s words, the deal elongated the inevitable.
During the interview, he clarified comments D’Banj made about him being scared of the G.O.O.D. Music deal and said he was calculative and saw that the market was not ready for Nigerian music at the time. Don Jazzy had created an initial beat for “Lift Off”, a song on Jay-Z and Kanye West’s joint album, Watch The Throne, which was stripped off and refurbished, so he figured the market wasn’t ready and he couldn’t abandon the business and artists he had in Nigeria like Wande Coal and Dr. Sid.
Don Jazzy was signed to G.O.O.D Music as a producer for a deal that was supposed to last five years and after he saw the climate, he returned to Nigeria and ghosted them till the five years ran up.
Mavin/ Post-Mo’Hits
After Mo’Hits broke up, Don Jazzy avoided making music for a while because he was scared that the music he’d make would not live up to the standard of the Mo’Hits era. He was rushed into making the Mavin announcement because there was an imminent media leak about the label and he wanted to get in front of that. The label’s debut compilation project, Solar Plexus, was recorded and ready to go with the news of Mavin’s formation.
A few years after the label was announced, Wande Coal left and it’s a move Don Jazzy blamed on Wande having people in his ears and telling him things. The nadir of their relationship came when Don Jazzy called out Wande for re-recording a song they had originally made together and it is something he says he regrets doing. After they broke up, Don Jazzy kept reaching out and told him there was a place for him at Mavin.
Regrets
While Don Jazzy does not necessarily have regrets, he wished he had signed a number of artists, one of whom was Falz. There was an opportunity to sign Falz, but he already had an existent label structure that would not have fit in with the overall superstructure of Mavin Records, so that deal never happened. With Simi, Don Jazzy did a Twitter competition, Journey of a Thousand Miles, for a D’Prince and Wande Coal record. Simi participated in the competition, she didn’t win but she was high up there and he wished he’d signed her. The last person he really wished he signed was Teni, she was a student in Atlanta at the time and he didn’t have the option to work closely with her and get her signed. Don Jazzy never really wanted to sign Davido but he knew he was going to be huge.
One thing he does wholly regret is the Olamide incident at The Headies because he understands the passion of where Olamide was coming from, but he was upset at the thought that people felt he paid for awards. Don Jazzy explained that had his award not been called right after the Olamide outburst he’d have been able to control his reaction. They did meet up the next day and buried the hatchet.
@walenchi Is A Lagos-Based Writer Interested In The Intersection Of Popular Culture, Music, And Youth Lifestyle.
From working her way out of London’s Myatt’s Field, Tanika is now setting her sights on the bright lights...
Across a career that's in its second decade, Tanika has proven to be a force in her own right, holding her...
Across a career that’s in its second decade, Tanika has proven to be a force in her own right, holding her own on collaborations with Black British stars like Stormzy and Wretch 32, as well as popular record producer Naughty Boy–working with the Grammy-nominated beatmaker on his acclaimed ‘Hotel Cabana’ album.
Following a stint as an actor, she returned to the studio in 2021, releasing a new extended play, ‘333,’ in 2023. The project carried all the hallmarks of Tanika at her tantalising best: lilting cadences, well-paced narratives, a songwriting that reaches for the heart of the matter.
On her latest song, “Fast Fwd,” she’s growing into her own and stepping into a new era. In many ways, “Fast Fwd,” a hypnotic, sultry anthem, is landing just in time for summer revelry. Produced by her longtime collaborator, Naughty Boy, her silky vocals land effortlessly on the mid-tempo instrumental and pulsates with her desire for her love interest.
Joined on the song by her fiancé, Kida Kudz, they make an interesting duo and replicate the synergy they had on “Nobody,” off Kudz’s 2021 ‘Top Memba.’ Distinctively marked by use of neon lights, the video for the song captures the effervescence of romance that Tanika hums about throughout the song.
From working her way out of London’s Myatt’s Field to becoming a star with millions of streams, Tanika is now setting her sights on the bright lights of superstardom. Ahead of the official release of the single, we had a brief chat with Tanika about her career, the influences for “Fast Fwd,” and working with KIda Kudz on it.
Her answers, which follow below, have been lightly edited for clarity.
How would you describe where you are in your career right now?
I’m just enjoying the journey.
What does the release of “Fast Fwd” signify for you?
It signifies love.
Why is Kida Kudz a fit for the song? (
To be honest, we didn’t plan to do another song together. I have worked on two records with him before (“Nobody” and “Tasty Time” ) but we never thought to shoot a video for it.. “Fast Fwd” felt like a real testimony of our present moment in the relationship.
You’ve worked extensively with Naughty Boy and he’s helped with “Fast Fwd,” what’s your relationship like and why does it work?
Naughty Boy knows me very well. We’ve known one another for over 10 years, so he knows what fits me musically. We gel. I think him knowing me and being a fan of Kida’s music made it all work. Naughty Boy does his listening before he makes a beat for you. A lot of producers don’t really understand the importance of knowing the artist musically but he does.
What were you aiming for with the video?
To be honest, I’m aiming for nothing. I’m just enjoying the journey. It’s been a very long road and I know I still have a long way to go.
Dutch textile brand Vlisco recently unveiled its latest campaign ‘The Garden Of Sisterhood,’ as part of...
Dutch textile brand Vlisco recently unveiled its latest campaign ‘The Garden Of Sisterhood,’ as part of its women’s month celebration. The campaign, which looks to extend Vlisco’s rich legacy in African fashion and its ongoing celebration of creativity and cultural storytelling, takes inspiration from Congolese musical icon Fally Ipupa’s latest single, “Mayanga.” The song’s accompanyingmusic video was shot in the Ivory Coast, and seamlessly balances Ipupa’s signature soulful Rumba music with intricate floral motifs and soft, elegant colour palettes that celebrate the strength and individuality that blossoms through community.
In addition to Fally Ipupa, Vlisco also tapped up Ivorian fashion designer Loza Maléombho and Nigerian director Daniel Obasi to contribute to ‘The Garden Of Sisterhood’ campaign. Maléombho’s unique designs and Obasi’s striking storytelling helped contribute to actualising Vlisco’s distinct aesthetic and vision of merging heritage, creativity and fashion.
In a statement discussing the collaboration with Vlisco, the Congolese superstar described it as a beautiful experience. “They understood my vision of working with talented artists and honouring the beautiful women who wear Vlisco fabrics. By creating exclusive designs for me and the remarkable women in the cast, Vlisco really brought our artistic vision to life, harmoniously fusing music and fashion,” he said.
Similarly, Marlou van Engelen, the creative director of Vlisco, expressed that it was an honour working with Fally Ipupa. “His song ‘MAYANGA’ perfectly reflects our admiration for the women who shaped us, inspire us, and mean so much to us. For us, it’s not just about fashion; it’s about the stories told through our beautiful prints. And I believe the best stories are always told together,” she said in a statement.
Having worked across every area in Nigeria’s sprawling music scene, T.G Omori’s lore has taken on an...
There are two types of producers in the industry: those who approach the art with a keen sense of...
There are two types of producers in the industry: those who approach the art with a keen sense of business—they know how to sniff out opportunities, and are generally aware of industry-wide trends and currents—and those who set the tone, who set the standards. The latter group is the animating force of the industry, TG Omori says in a 2022 interview with Korty EO. During the interview, he’s slouched in his seat, framed against the backdrop of a grand piano, wearing a bandana, dark shades, and a silk Hawaiian shirt—the first few buttons undone to reveal a glistening silver chain. In the intervening moments—fractions of a second—before Korty responds to the loaded assertion he just trotted out, the air is thick with balmy anticipation and nervous excitement “Which group do you belong to?” She asks, lancing the tense air that had inflated sharply like a balloon. “Me? Which group do you think I belong to?” He fires back, his mouth drawn into a smile.
Music video production, is at its heart, an art form that is significantly beholden to the vision and whims of the music artist and label executives. Music video directors—rightly—have to walk the tightrope between sufficiently distilling the essence of a song into a video and managing the desires and whims of an artist and their representatives. The problem, however, is that in between all of this, there’s often little wiggle room for the director to execute his ideas significantly. The result is often a situation where the music video director becomes diminished from an artist to a little more than an artisan. TG Omori, however, has in his long career railed against this. There’s no doubt that like his peers he has to straddle the demands of the song and the vision of his clients, but he does this without effacing his distinctive creative language. He has a fluency in packing his work with heady joy, a joy that pervades and steadies Nigerian society despite the many challenges it’s faced with.
TG Omori stumbled into music video direction by chance. He had been struggling as an actor, begging directors for roles as an extra—his skits and sketches from this period are still available on the internet—when it dawned on him that achieving success as a performing act was incredibly difficult. He noticed that a lot of upcoming actors were struggling to get by and often had to abase themselves in the process of currying favors with directors. The role of film director slowly started to worm its way into his heart, driving a wedge between him and his acting aspirations. Finally won over, he made the pivot to filmmaking, eventually settling on music video direction on account of its relative ease.
His early works lack his distinctive style, instead taking inspiration from directors before him. Consider YCee’s “My Side” which he directed in 2018. The video opens with YCee perched atop a high-rise building. The colors are muted, contrasting his current works which generously deploy bright hues and saturated lighting. There’s a gorgeous scene where YCee is framed against a wall with slits. Shafts of light stream in from behind him, creating a transcendent portrayal of an animated silhouette enveloped in light. The entire video evokes the elevated minimalism of Moe Musa. Think of the opening scene where YCee saunters atop a high-rise building, it’s a motif that has been deployed countless times by Nigerian directors, but something about that scene—the minimalism of the setting juxtaposed with dynamic camera movements—brings to mind Moe Musa’s video for Olamide’s “Bobo.”
While his early works lack his signature–the distinctive exuberance we’ve come to know him for–they hold kernels of what would come to be. Even in the muted ambiance of “My Side,”we see an early iteration of the pristinely dynamic camera movements that sweep through his oeuvre. In the video of Olamide, Wizkid & ID Cabasa’s “Totori,” released in 2019, his directional language starts to take form. He was contracted at the last minute to film the video—he had less than a day to come up with a concept, marshal his crew and steward the logistical aspect of the shoot, and yet in this pressure cannon, a gem was formed.
The video contains just one main scene—one of the few vestiges of the shoot’s hurried nature. We see Wizkid and Olamide encircled by an energetic crowd. A circle of dark bodies sways to the beat, handkerchiefs flailing in the air. We also see the flamboyant lighting that has come to define TG Omori’s work. There are light sources outside the frame but the scene itself is illuminated by a clever array of light sources. Moving headlights cut through clouds of smoke, LED lights and tungsten bulbs of varying colors suffuse the atmosphere with warm iridescence. The effect is the feeling of being transported to a rave. What’s perhaps most striking about this video is that, having been hastily formulated, it contains a single scene, and yet not one minute of it feels boring or repetitive.
Having worked across virtually every area in Nigeria’s sprawling music scene T.G Omori’s lore has taken on an almost mythic quality over the years. However, nowhere is his impact more pronounced than in the Nigerian Street-Pop scene. Today, Street-Pop has largely ridden itself of its underground status. Artists like Seyi Vibez, Shallipopi, and Asake imperiously lord over charts in the country, each boldly raising the banner of their respective cities and hoods. But this wasn’t always the case. In Afropop’s early days, Street-Pop was relegated to the margins, sneered at by industry gatekeepers for its brash flourishes, even though the mainstream routinely tapped it for inspiration. By the early 2010s a new generation of Street-Pop acts—Olamide, Phyno, and Reminisce amongst others—would elevate Street-Pop’s profile to historic heights. But it still maintained an insidiously tense relationship with the mainstream.
The first signs of an industry-wide shift–the shift that has blossomed into Street-Pop’s hegemony today–arrived in 2019 at the height of the Zanku movement. The addition of “movement” underscores just how significant Zanku was. On one front, it’s the title of Zlatan’s titular 2018 hit and an acronym for the phrase “Zlatan Abeg No Kill Us.” But it’s also used to denote a distinct flavor of Street-Pop characterized by skittering drums, cascading percussion, and a laissez-faire style of delivery—heralded in late 2018 by Street-Pop folk heroes like Zlatan, Chinko Ekun, and Naira Marley.
When culture critics reminisce on the Zanku era, the focus is usually on the artists who spearheaded it, but T.G Omori’s contributions to that period of Street-Pop’s ascendancy are impossible to ignore. While the artists shaped the sounds and dance steps that defined its grassroots appeal, it was T.G Omori who gave it its distinctive aesthetic. His early collaborations with Zlatan—most notably on “Shotan” and “Bolanle” offered a template for how the videos of the era could be presented on screen: hyper-stylized yet rooted in the whimsical chaos of street culture. His use of slow motion, jump cuts, and dynamic tracking shots turned what would otherwise be yet another ephemeral trend in Afropop’s dynamic history into a cinematic experience that embodied the feeling of the era.
His video of Naira Marley’s “Soapy” is especially telling. Arriving in the wake of Naira Marley’s arrest by Nigeria’s anti-graft agency, the Economic and Financial Crimes Commision (E.F.C.C.), the video very cleverly satirizes the experience, framing him, as well as others who were arrested alongside him—Zlatan and Rahman Jago, amongst others—as heroes as opposed to criminals. It’s important to grasp the significance of this. Street-Pop acts had always been treated with suspicion. There almost seemed to be a tacit consensus that regardless of their success or status, they mirrored an unsavory part of society, and so they deserved the asterisk that seemed to loom over their every move. The arrest of Naira Marley and his posse only served to further strengthen this narrative. TG Omori’s video, however, spun an alternative narrative, a hagiography perhaps, from this fraught situation. The video opens with annotated mugshots of the group, their names tacked onto each mugshot. Through TG Omori’s lens, prison becomes transformed from a place of despondency to a sanctuary where friends happily muck around, regaling themselves with games and bubbly dancing.
TG Omori’s influence in shaping emerging sonic movements extends beyond the Zanku era. It’s impossible to recount Asake’s rise without considering the video director’s input. 2022 marked Asake’s singular and meteoric rise to fame. His music blurred the boundaries of genres, creating an amorphous sound spread across the continent with intensity. His ascendancy also broke the boundaries between Street-Pop and mainstream Afropop, marking the dawn of a new era. TG Omori played a pivotal part in Asake’s early days, crafting a freewheeling visual aesthetic to match Asake’s disposition for subversion. In the video of Asake’s “Peace Be Unto You,” we see his freewheeling ethos at its peak. The song’s themes span faith, hustle, success, and street credibility. In the hands of a lesser director, the video would have followed the familiar script of a grass-to-grace narrative. TG Omori, however, rejected that cliché in favor of a more abstract approach.
Each of the themes explored in the song is distilled to a representative scene, the scenes are then cleverly stitched into a brilliant whole. The opening sequence sees Asake on a motorcycle, a formation of riders trailing behind him. As he rips through the freeway, doting fans wave and scream in adulation. Watching this scene, one is tangibly enveloped in the feeling of street credibility, the sense of ascendancy, that Asake explores in the song. It’s poignant and symbolic, conveying the essence of the song in a manner that would be difficult to achieve with a literal narrative. Similarly, the video of Seyi Vibez’s “Shaolin,” TG Omori’s inaugural work following a health-induced break, defies any discernible narrative logic in favor of a freewheeling approach. The video’s boisterous energy almost seems like a bold assertion of his continued reign; as if to say “I’m back like I never left.”
In August of 2024, through a series of heart-wrenching videos, as well as tweets, TG Omori let the public in on his health challenges. In a tweet, he revealed that his only brother gave him a kidney, so he could live again. He revealed that the transplant failed and, later, brought on thoughts of mortality. In one harrowing photo he posted on his Instagram stories, he’s hooked to a life support machine, the words “I don’t want to die” superimposed on the image. In the intervening moments, prayers and well-wishes poured in from all corners of social media. In recent months, however, he appears to be in better health and has fully thrust himself back into work, with “Shaolin” being the first of many projects he has lined up.
Eight years after his directorial debut, he remains not just relevant, but the frontman in an industry that’s as cut-throat as it gets. It’s uncommon in Nigeria’s music scene—for a video director to maintain this level of dominance for nearly a decade into the game. It’s his fidelity to subversion and his unique perspective on the art of videography that has earned him his position as Nigeria’s foremost video director. To watch a TG Omori video is to be transported into a world of his creation: where the sun pulses with exuberance, foliage throbs with palpable life, streams of light vibrate with saturated colors, and the streets are perpetually packed with graceful black bodies. It is a world where, regardless of the tyranny of fate, joy manages to always streak through.