Tems’ story is one many would agree was written in the stars. Not just for how seamlessly she forged a path to global stardom, but also how she seemed to arrive long before she got started. Only in stories like hers do words like “destiny” or “fate” arise to describe a trajectory so against the grain yet so inevitable, many struggle to register the colossal shift till it is much too late.
And as the world sat in eager anticipation for the glorious album debut from the R&B singer-producer, a slew of unbelievers rose to the surface to stir the pot around Tems’ talent or, according to them, lack thereof. Even though it would be easier to dismiss all sceptics as trolls, a more candid resolution lies in the reality that not many parallels – if any at all – in Nigeria’s music history can be drawn to Temilade Openiyi. Since quitting her corporate job in 2018, per a life-changing message she received from her daily devotion, to deliver one of the most promising R&B debuts of the decade, no amount of doubt can discredit the fact that Tems is currently fulfilling her life’s purpose.
While the rest of the world first caught wind of the unrivalled force that is Tems via a stellar performance on Wizkid’s “Essence,” back home, she had already scored points as an artist to watch when she audaciously declared herself the leading vibe in 2018’s “Mr Rebel.” Still, it wasn’t until “Try Me” – a striking embodiment of her emotional yet gritty artistry – that Tems slowly began seeping into mainstream listeners’ consciousness, later earning her a small cult following that set her up to invigorate what was then considered popular Nigerian music. Six years, an RCA record deal, two EPs and now a debut album down the line, it’s safe to say that Tems has done just that, and much more. When cataloguing the string of accomplishments under her belt, one might first think of Tems’ role as a peerless collaborator – and understandably so. Recruitments for Beyonce’s ‘RENAISSANCE,’ and Drake’s ‘Certified Lover Boy,’co-writing duties with Rihanna or even the Grammy-earning “Wait For U,” are accomplishments that would be criminal to glaze over. Still, ask any of the Nigerian women in Tems’ Rebel Gang and they’ll tell you that international stardom isn’t the reason they love Tems; for many, it’s the nuanced way she voices the stories of a generation that often goes unspoken for that truly makes us love her.
Following the titular track of her debut album, ‘Born in the Wild,’ Tems’ mother hops on “Special Baby(Interlude)” to emphasise just how fated her journey has been. Over melancholic piano chords borrowed from the intro, we sit in on an undiluted conversation between mother and daughter, where Tems’ mother highlights just how ordained the superstar’s journey is. “They keep on asking,“why Temi?, why Tems? Don’t they have another person again?/They themselves do not know why, they can’t understand it,” her mother laughs, recollecting the words of naysayers who are perplexed by the force that is Tems and the support she receives. Tems’ mother encourages her to push all the doubt aside, because she was born to do this. Tems’ own sentiments, however, are easily reflected on “Born in the Wild,” the perfect introductory insight into her headspace at the start of her journey, and all the obstacles she had to overcome before getting here. Silky guitar strums reiterate her evidently burdened spirit, casting a light on her need to conquer but by the end of the track, she arrives as assured as her mother singing, “The world…is mine and the time…is now.”
Dreamily reminiscent of her introduction to the scene, “Burning” delves deeper into both external and self-inflicted pressures, set alight by an unbridled desire to succeed. The track acts as a mirror to her emotions and state of mind, aptly reflected in our 2020 cover story for The NATIVE’s Print Issue 4 where writer, Damilola Animashaun, described her as one who has “unlocked society’s cage and set herself on fire to light the way for a new vanguard.” Tems was, and still is, the girl on fire. But now more than ever, she is the perfect embodiment of just how far a fiery passion and an introspective approach to life can take you. “Burning” gives Tems the first opportunity on the album – later seen on “Ready” – to communicate just how badly she wants her story to be one of actualised dreams, while snagging production credits with assistance from Ghanaian producer, Guiltybeatz. The pair, whose combined talent is the undeniable backbone of the album’s production, further establish themselves as a dynamic duo after transporting us to the dancefloor with “Wickedest.” The track starts withMagic System’s global crowd pleaser, “1er Gaou” instantly uplifting the atmosphere, shortly followed by groovy basslines reminding us that R&B can have you up on your feet. She holds a composed tone with a sheer effortlessness that alludes to her laser focus on the grind, paired with an unshakeable confidence that her visions, however brazen, will be actualised.
The beauty of art, especially music, is its reinstative power. From sampling to interpolating, music draws references from the past to inform the stories of the present, intensifying the shared experience of the human race. When done right, we get badass anthems like “Wickedest” or the refreshing, reimagined version of Seyi Sodimu 1997 cult classic of the same name, “Love Me Jeje.”An evocative ode to her roots, Tems turned to one of the country’s greatest canonical love songs to soundtrack the official beginning of the journey to her debut album. Her interpretation was an instant favourite, building ammo for her hit-making abilities and versatility, clearly hinting at an exciting run that has only just begun. Tems is backed by her close-knit team, including her personal stylist and friend, Dunsin Wright, for a playful outro of the track. “Gangsta,” though it takes a rougher, more melancholic approach, doesn’t fall too far behind on the album’s successful reference pulls with its subtle Diana King interpolation. While the original, “L-L-Lies,” chronicles the story of a woman despondently confronting her partner’s infidelity, Tems comes in guns blazing “That’s why, that’s why I need a gangsta, That’s why, that’s why I need a bad one, That’s why, that’s why I need violence.” She clearly states that any attempts to dim her light will never go unnoticed, stressing that her circle only has room for genuine people.
As the intoxicating Amapiano melodies of “Get it Right” arrive,we’re fully abreast with Tems unrelenting hit-making abilities, spurred on by an experimental approach to her craft; and who better to enlist than seasoned vocalist, Asake and superstar producer, Sarz. Though Mr Money’s enchanting delivery is commendable, instantly making “Get it Right” one of the album’s earworms, he is well within his sonic comfort zone so a solid verse simply was to be expected. It is Tems’ ability to glide over the heart-thumping log drums and dazzling shakers, however, that leaves the track stuck on instant loop. She gracefully rides the wave, boldly expressing her desires for and commitment to her love interest, “All the boys dey on dnd, so you know what you mean to me.” A clear standout already, it helps that Asake comes armed with charming lines like, “You dey do me one kind, shey me I no go die/This your body like coke, too bad, maka why?”
The album’s tone takes a sharp turn with pensive strums on “Unfortunate,” where she expresses indifference to a love interest that treated her poorly but is trying to re-enter her life. Rather than seeing the unfavourable treatment as a reflection of herself, Tems knows that she’s too young to be hot and bothered, pointing back to the album’s overarching theme of self-empowerment.
In many ways, Tems has found the sweet spot between being unbothered and having moments of intense fixation that linger in her subconscious. “Boy O Boy” deals with the dissonance that comes with navigating those opposites while seeking resolution on her feelings. Her brain recognises that a love interest is no good for her but her heart is willing to give him another chance. “Hold me in your mind/Before I leave you on the streets,” she finally warns, seemingly deciding to focus on elevating her best self. Where “Boy O Boy” was contemplative, “Forever” is more boisterous as the singer moves assuredly over the magnetic DameDame and GuiltyBeatz-produced instrumental. Her delivery is also loosened in a way that recalls some of the ‘90s most classic post-heartbreak excoriations. Where those songs came from a place of deep-rooted passion, Tems is operating with resolution on “Forever.”
Since coming onto the scene, Tems has been a critical part of an innovative generation that has upended any traditionalist definitions of Afropop, and ‘Born in the Wild’ takes things up another notch, prioritising free flowing self-expression over conformist formulas. The J Cole-featuring“Free Fall”sees her dial in for a candid look at what happens when reality doesn’t match expectations. Tems is not a fan of lingering when she’s not getting what she wants and pointedly states that she’d rather be alone. It sounds like wisdom accumulated from a lifetime’s worth of navigating near-relationships that don’t quite work at the end of it all.
It was always an ambitious gambit to turn in an 18-song album, and there are moments when the sequencing on ‘Born in the Wild’ can be jarring, perhaps intended as a means to spark some life into the listening experience. There are other points where it feels like two songs were mixed together as one, as it does on “Turn Me Up.” The opening half sees Tems sing-rap about the state of the world and her place in it before settling into a pidgin-accented verse that sees more big-talking from the singer. It all feels like an attempt by Tems to stake her claim as one of her generation’s most well-regarded singers but it lacks the gritty appeal of an old classic like “Try Me” or the emotional lucidity of “Wickedest.” It’s a rare misstep that’s quickly corrected with the pre-released “Me & U.” Part faith hymnal and part love declaration, “Me & U” feels like a salve for tough times that could only have emerged from the deepest reservoirs of Tems’ consciousness as she weaves her personal convictions on love into her adoration for a larger-than-life divine figure that she clearly craves a closer connection to. It all works wonderfully for one of the album’s highlights.
Long-time listeners of Tems will have long worked out that she’s a fan of Hip-hop with the singer occasionally dipping into the genre for musical inspiration. Over a boom-bap instrumental on “T-Unit,” she pays homage to the genre and her own resilience. “Never surrender/Never afraid,” she tantalisingly raps about her journey. The secret genius of Tems’ music has always been how she uses her experiences as a map for her listeners looking to find themselves; it’s a task she takes quite seriously as evinced by the closing stretch of “T-Unit” where she breathlessly sings, “Throw your hands up, let me hear you say, ‘Victory until the death of me,’” as though delivering battle-time motivation to her weary troops.
Album closer, “Hold On” is similarly an admonishment. Anyone even faintly familiar with Tems’ story knows about her quitting her job at a digital marketing to start an improbable career in music. It’s been a whirlwind six years since her debut song came out and she’s now using her journey to urge her audience to hold on to their dreams however hard that may be. Perseverance is a theme that’s constantly returned to across Tems’ debut. “Do it crying, but fucking do it,” one of her managers admonishes her on “Voices In My Head (Interlude).” It’s what Tems has been doing since she sang her heart out all those years ago on “Mr Rebel.” Now, it’s time to recount the cost of her swashbuckling journey. With ‘Born In The World,’ Tems opens up a portal to her soul; tracking a meteoric rise to global superstardom, her triumphs over self-doubt and a complex journey to accepting, and as she does that, this is her moment.
In a reversal of events at the turn of the 2000s, Afropop is profoundly reshaping the texture of music...
Over the last two and a half years, some of Afropop’s biggest stars have denounced the genre to advance...
Over the last two and a half years, some of Afropop’s biggest stars have denounced the genre to advance their personal agendas. In a wide-ranging interview from 2023 with Apple Music’s Zane Lowe just ahead of the release of his last album, ‘I Told Them…,’ Burna Boy derided Afrobeats for a perceived lack of contextual subject matter. “Afrobeats, as people call it, it’s mostly about nothing, literally nothing,” he said. “There’s no substance to it. Nobody’s talking about anything. It’s just a great time, it’s an amazing time. But at the end of the day, life is not an amazing time.”
Just a few months later, Nigerian music superstar, Wizkid, also disavowed the genre, claiming that he was not an Afrobeats act and that his then-forthcoming album, ‘Morayo,’ would not be an Afrobeats album as he considered the genre – and the classification it infers – too limiting for the type of music he made. Predictably, fans were incensed by both artists’ stances and the casual dismissal of the genre that their statements invited. What was almost lost in the whirlwind of that discourse is that for all the attempts to capture the totality of African music under the loaded ‘Afrobeats’ label, African music has never been just one thing; and, in that spirit, Afrobeats itself has always been all-welcoming of a multiplicity of influences and styles.
From its earliest iteration, Afropop has always been a potpourri of sounds that took influences from various parts of the Black diaspora and distilled them with an African sensibility. The work of early Afrobeats pioneers like Junior and Pretty is a direct descendant of the burgeoning Hip-Hop blueprint of the ‘80s; while the early 2000s popularity of Ajegunle-based rabble-rousers like Daddy Showkey, Danfo Drivers, and African China occurred tangentially to the rising profile of Reggae on a global scale. The mid-2000s to early 2010s saw the arrival of several dulcet-toned singers like Banky W and Tiwa Savage rooted in the R&B and Soul traditions, introducing a slicker dimension to Nigerian popular music. As always, homegrown stars adapted these foreign styles for their own market while continuing to work on a distinctive style that centered genuine indigenous expression and ingenuity.
Over the years, the fruit of those experiments has ripened to produce a scene that’s bustling with life and talent. As the genre has attained global attention, many sub-genres have come to the fore, showcasing the depth of African music on a global scale. If Wizkid’s sonorous melodies and unbeatable charisma made him the sun of Afrobeats in the 2010s, Olamide’s militaristic bars and Pop anthems rooted in their street sensibilities mark him out as the genre’s moon. It was on Oamide’s back that a nascent indigenous rap circuit rested. Taking the mantle of DaGrin, the Bariga-raised rapper who helped institutionalize rapping in Nigerian languages with cult classics like “Eni Duro” and “Voice Of The Street.” Along with the effort of other stars like Reminisce, Phyno, Lil Kesh, and CDQ, the indigenous rap movement gained steam and, recognizing the Nigerian market’s zest for melodies, soon morphed into Street-Pop, a distinct hybridization of local genres like Fuji, Apala, and Highlife.
Inspired by the work of their forebearers, a new crop of artists have taken Street-Pop to new heights. Zlatan and Naira Marley served as a transitory generation; together with Rexxie, they patented a more melodic take on Street-Pop while infusing a devil-may-care disposition that launched them to the top of Nigerian music. It is fitting that Olamide was the one to hand the baton to Asake, the biggest Street-Pop star of the moment. Similar to the YBNL head’s legendary album run, Asake has released three albums and one extended play in three years, each coming out to a world paying more and more attention to his work. Impressively, Asake has also established himself as a global touring star, regularly playing sold out arena concerts across the world with a music style that is rooted in Yoruba oral tradition.
Asake is not spreading the Street-Pop gospel alone, though. Ikorodu star, Seyi Vibez, has also grabbed mainstream attention for his gritty take on the genre. Initially a divisive figure, his 2023 song, “Different Pattern,” saw him reach a new level of cultural relevance in 2024 and his new extended play, ‘Children Of Africa,’ arrived in February 2025, marking a new era in his career. The yearning for a reclamation of cultural heritage that has created a Street-Pop golden era has not evaded other parts of Nigeria. Shallipopi’s drawling, sprawled-out sound mimics the playful pulse of South-South pidgin while Jeriq, hailing from Nigeria’s South-East, has emerged as one of Nigeria’s most acclaimed rappers. Outside Nigeria, there’s a yearning in Ghana to preserve the purity and history of its Highlife genre, an elemental component of Afrobeats. British-Ghanaian producer, Juls’, ‘PALMWINE DIARIES’ and ‘High Life Sessions,’ both pulsate with the beguiling riffs of the storied genre while the work of Nigerian brother-duo, The Cavemen, is reintroducing Eastern Nigerian highlife to a new generation of listeners.
A youth-led zest for exploration outside the framework of Afropop has also produced a sub-culture that rejects the tenets of mainstream conservatism. Beginning as a band of friends and collaborators who prioritized freewheeling experimentation, Alte music has emerged as one of the most important sonic evolutions of the last two decades. First championed by OG pioneers like DRB Lasgidi, LOS, and Show Dem Camp, the Alte community drew in left-field thinkers and madcap auteurs setting the stage for a new generation of stars to emerge from the depths of SoundCloud circa 2016. In the hands of stars like Odunsi (The Engine), Cruel Santino, and Lady Donli, the Alte experiment reached an unprecedented level of critical and commercial success.
Odunsi’s ‘rare.,’ throbbing with influences from ‘70s Disco and Funk, sits in the canon of great Nigerian debuts and Lady Donli’s ‘Enjoy Your Life’ artfully melded Folk music with Afrobeat and Soul across its 15 tracks. Taken along with the work of producers like GMK and Genio Bambino, these acts built a community that successfully created the blueprint for a sound that reflected the tensions and joys of younger Nigerians who saw life in a specific fashion. It even took flight beyond the borders of Nigeria with a young Amaarae cutting her teeth working alongside some of the most prominent names in the Alte community. The inventiveness and clarity of vision that the community prioritises is evident across both of the Ghanaian-American artist’s albums, ‘The Angel You Don’t Know’ and ‘Fountain Baby.’
In a reversal of events at the turn of the 2000s when Afropop was heavily influenced by outside sounds and genres, music from the continent is profoundly reshaping the texture of music outside its borders. Much like how the Windrush Generation and other immigrants from the West Indies helped to introduce Britain to Reggae, Dancehall and Soca, generations of African immigrants are making music that signals their African heritage, with Afropop as a base influence. The rise in popularity of African sounds has helped UK artists mesh the lingo and sonics from the continent into their work, creating a new genre referred to as Afroswing. Taking influences from Afrobeat, Dancehall, and Grime, Afroswing is distinctive for its use of lyrics from Africa with British rapper, J Hus, credited as one of its pioneers. Songs like J Hus’ “Did You See,” Ramz’s “Barking,” and Not3s’s “Aladdin” signal to the sound of the homeland and speak to Afrobeats’ incredible stride to global popularity as a base reference point for global Black music.
Nearly a decade out from “One Dance,” the Drake, Wizkid, and Kyla collab that pushed Afropop into a different stratosphere, the genre is in safe hands with several stars emerging across different sub-genres that speak to our past, present and future. It is perhaps more than the pioneers imagined when they were making music all those years ago, but all the roads have led here to Afropop being a global sensation that offers various forms of expression to a watching world. There are no limitations on what can be done within the genre, that sense of open-endedness and possibility was always our strength, and it’s why Afropop will stand the test of time.
Ahead of the release of ‘The Breeze Grew A Fire,’ we sat down with Mereba to discuss putting together her...
Mereba exudes a palpable warmth. When she speaks, as she did with me via Zoom one evening in late January,...
Mereba exudes a palpable warmth. When she speaks, as she did with me via Zoom one evening in late January, she’s gentle and perceptive, speaking in soft, meandering passages that paint an intimate portrait of the LA-based singer’s mind. Similarly, her stirring discography, which dates back to 2013, evokes a keen sense of serene intimacy. “I’m inspired by those little moments in life where you’re like “Ah that’s really beautiful,”” she tells me halfway into our conversation, making sense of the ethereal quality that her music possesses. “It could be an interaction between two people, it could be something in nature, it could be a memory I have. Those are the moments that drive me to go get my guitar and write a song.”
The 34-year-old singer, songwriter, producer and instrumentalist has been writing songs for as long as she can remember. Growing up between Alabama, North Carolina and Pennsylvania, as well as an unintended one-year stint in her father’s native Ethiopia, ensured that Mereba picked up a wealth of influences that would go on to inform her richly diverse and understated sound. After years living across multiple cities, she finally settled in Atlanta where she became a staple in the city’s indie music circuit. “There, I met my peers who I made music with and are still my peers to this day. People like J.I.D, 6LACK and my crew. We all were just coming up during a really rich time of music there so that was a big part of my journey,” she reminisces fondly.
In the years that Mereba lived in Atlanta, she released 2013’s ‘Room For Living’ and ‘Kotton House Vol 1,’ two extended plays that neatly outline the foundations of the balmy and eclectic style that she would perfect years later, leaving ample room for her soothing vocals and evocative songwriting to shine. She also joined Spillage Village, a musical collective that comprises others like Earth Gang and JID, contributing to various releases like ‘Bears Like This Too Much’ and the critically acclaimed ‘Spilligion.’ Following her time in Atlanta, Mereba moved again, this time to Los Angeles, where she signed her first major record deal and released her debut album ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out.’
Since the release of ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out’ in 2019, Mereba has continued to hone her unique sound, continually experimenting and ironing out the rich textures of her temperate style on subsequent releases like 2021’s ‘AZEB.’ Ahead of the release of ‘The Breeze Grew A Fire,’ her first project in four years, we sat down with the LA-based singer to discuss the story behind her well-received debut, her various influences as well as the process of putting together her highly-anticipated new album.
This is your first album in about five years. How are you feeling?
I feel really excited. I’m definitely excited to give my music back to the world again. I’m also ready for connection, performing the songs, and sharing these new stories.
You’ve been making music for a long time now, but do you still feel any nerves before a major release like this?
I don’t know if it’s nerves. I think I feel anxious about the fact that the music is being released and people are going to hear it. But I guess I’m anxious in a good way for them to hear the music, to get to experience what I’ve been toiling away at and what I’ve been excited about for a while. It’s more like a good anxiety.
I think the first time I came across your music was in 2019. I heard “Heatwave” with 6LACK off of your debut album ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out.’ I believe that album was sort of a breakthrough moment for you. Can you tell me a bit about how it came together?
That album coming together was quite a journey. I started ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out’ years before it came out. I had left Atlanta and moved to L.A at this point. I didn’t know so many people when I just moved and so I was kind of starting over in certain ways. I was writing a lot of songs that felt really powerful to me but they were sonically different from what I used to make before. I was also learning how to produce, I was in Ableton learning how to make beats and just produce my music. Because I didn’t know so many people, I couldn’t outsource some of these things so I was just experimenting on my sound on my own.
Over the years, the community that I was a part of in Atlanta, everyone started finding their way in music but we still stayed closely in touch even though I had moved to L.A. I featured on a song with J.I.D and that kind of got me back into making music properly again because at that point, I was working random jobs, my car got taken and I had to start taking the bus to work. I was living a completely different life. It was my friends that put me back in the zone. They would invite me to sessions and just remind me that I wanted to do this music thing. Then I started putting together songs I had made over the years like “Sandstorm” and “Heatwave” with 6LACK which we made way before the album came out and even my solo songs like “Black Truck.” Most of the songs on that album had come from that period where I was struggling but knowing I was meant for music somehow.
How many years did it take to put your first album together?
I’ll say about four to five years. They say you write your first album for your whole life. “Highway 10” is the first song I made on that album. I made that song in 2014 and the album came out in 2019. In the years before the album came out I was signed to a bad record deal and I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t release music. All I could do was just create and that ended up forcing me to just hone in on my sound.
After your debut, you released an EP titled ‘AZEB’ two years later. Listening to that project, it felt lighter than your debut which was a lot darker and more melancholic. Do you remember what headspace you were in when you made this EP?
I was definitely feeling a lot lighter when I was making ‘AZEB.’ I felt like I had shed a lot of the weight that I carried during all those years of uncertainty. I was in a much more hopeful place when I was making one-half of the project. The other half was made during the early days of the pandemic so it was like a mix. Songs like “Rider,”“Beretta,” and “My Moon,” those songs represent beautiful, light type feelings to me while some of the other songs like “News Come,” and “Another Kin” are more intense lyrically and sonically.
Let’s talk about ‘The Breeze Grew A Fire.’ How did you land on that as the title for your second album?
The making of that title was different from how I titled my other projects. It didn’t come to me right away and I decided to not force it, I believed it was going to come eventually. So the making of this album has always felt very gentle. In contrast to what I had been through for so many years, I felt like I was in a much softer space creating this album and this feeling of a breeze just kept coming to me. It was also kind of like springtime going into the summer and the idea of a breeze became so prominent that I was going to title the album breeze. But as I continued on the journey of finishing it, it felt like the album was saying something a bit more. I realized that the album wasn’t just about all these gentle feelings and relationships I’m singing about like friendship, family, and my son but these things also inspire me to live with purpose, conviction and to have a spark in me. Things that make people “strong” are inspired by these little moments and experiences that we have and less by the force of trying to make a fire forcefully.
You co-produced “Phone Me” and “Counterfeit,” the lead singles for this project and you’ve also produced a lot of your older stuff as well. I’m curious to know how taking the reins on the production side affects your music-making process in general.
I got really into producing during that period when I felt lost in life. I got into Ableton, playing the guitar on my computer, sampling my voice and just experimenting. So songs that I produced from ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out’ like “Sandstorm” and “Kinfolk,” were me experimenting a lot with learning how to produce. With this new album, the first two singles were heavily produced by my co-producer Sam Hoffman. When he sends me things that I like, I’ll add things to them and it could be the opposite as well where I produce a song and I’ll have him or another friend add something to it. That process is personal because I could completely be in my world and get the feelings that I want to convey out through production as well as writing the song out lyrically. When I unlocked that part of myself, it felt like my whole life that’s what I’ve been wanting to do. To be able to make the music arrangements and compositions come to life.
A lot of the time I would start with a simple beat or drum loop and I’ll build chords over it with my guitar. I experiment with writing when it’s bare and then fill in the production as I write the song. They’re a very interwoven process.
I’ve read that you’re heavily influenced by legendary acts like Stevie Wonder and Lauryn Hill. Are there other acts that inspire you when it comes to the production side of music specifically?
That’s a great question. In certain ways, I’ll say it’s the same people that I look up to because most of them produce. Interestingly enough, what I love most about these musicians is that they are very involved in the sonics of the music they’re making. So the people that you mentioned, like Stevie Wonder who mentored me and encouraged me to continue on the path of producing my music versus being a singer who works with a producer. I feel like it’s important to the language of an artist to at least know how to contribute in some way to the sonics of their music.
I’ll say Quincy Jones is the blueprint for me just because of the span of work that he did. He’s the concept of producer I’d like to work towards in my life.
Do you have a favourite memory from creating ‘The Breeze Grew A Fire’?
There are a few. There was a time when I made this song on the album called “Hawk.” The song is dedicated to a really dear friend of mine who passed away unexpectedly in 2021. It was not easy to write and when I first wrote the song, it was sad, slow and reflective of the whole situation. I listened to it after I made it and I started thinking about my friend and the things that he liked. He was a very expressive and hilarious person who loved dancing and dance music. At that moment a light bulb went up and I felt like the song needed to be more of a dance song because I wanted to make something that he would love and not something he would think is corny. It was a really beautiful moment musically and personally.
If there’s one thing you would like your fans or listeners to take away from ‘A Breeze Grew A Fire,’ what would it be?
I hope it brings a sense of comfort and warmth. I also hope it tells a clear story of what matters to me. I just really hope it makes people feel better, that’s really it. I think it’s one of those albums where it’s a personal album for me and I think it’s meant for personal moments too. I hope it lives in people’s lives in comforting ways.
Asake broke the internet when he unveiled his new tattoos earlier this year, and he’s doubling down while...
Asake broke the internet when he unveiled his new tattoos earlier this year, and he’s doubling down while...
Asake broke the internet when he unveiled his new tattoos earlier this year, and he’s doubling down while ushering in the GIRAN Republic era. On “Military”, Asake ditches the log drums & Amapiano-inspired beats that paved the way to his rapid ascent to stardom. Rapping over stripped back production dominated by a live drum loop, he picks up where he left off sonically on ‘LUNGU BOY’, drawing inspiration from his Hip-Hop influences, as he delivers a defiant, heartfelt battle-cry to his fans and doubters alike.
For the last few months, rumours have swirled around Asake on the gossip blogs, on everything from who he’s dating to his record label situation to his physical appearance, with fans, critics and disgruntled ex team members all throwing in their two cents. Since his emergence in the limelight, Asake has been a man of few words – we should know, we did his first ever magazine interview back in 2022. But on this track, he addresses the chatter head on, opening the song dismissively rapping “ Awon lo lenu won koma so lo/ Tio ba affect bank me, ko ma soro” loosely translated to “let them keep talking, if it doesn’t affect my bank account, there’s nothing to say”. He goes on to flex his financial muscle above everyone in his “set”, despite being “low-key”, while affirming he could drop an album tomorrow with no tracklist, and it would still slap.
He takes a break from the braggadocio between verses to directly shout out his mentor Olamide, the man who gave him his big break. While it does appear their business relationship may have run its course, the mercurial artist is making it clear he remembers how he got here. The Asake & YBNL run will be studied for years to come. In the midst of the continued rise in global consumption of Nigerian music, Asake hilariously raps “Oyinbo koro lenu mi”, a reminder that he will not be diluting his sound for the benefit of our friends in the West.
Quietly dropping the track exclusively on YouTube & Audiomack a couple of days after the 2025 GRAMMY ceremony, in which he was nominated for the second year running, this response may have gone over the heads of those who lurk in the comment sections of the gossip blogs. But it is the most Asake response we could have expected, isn’t it? On his own terms, in his own native tongue, he pulls no punches as he ushers in a new era of independence.
This morning, Asake released another record, the Magicsticks-produced “WHY LOVE”,which notably comes under his new imprint Giran Republic. Reverting to a more familiar sonic cocktail of pulsating log-drums and choral vocals, he sings melodiously,“You know I’m a Soulja boy, but in your case, I’ll calm down.” The duality of man.
The rumours will keep swirling and people will keep talking, as they tend to do when you reach the heights the Lungu Boy has soared to. And for all the aesthetic change and talk of a new era, it appears Asake is going to continue to do what he has done more consistently than nearly every artist in Nigeria since his mainstream emergence in 2022: drown out the noise with new music.