For the past three years, Wizkid’s ‘Made In Lagos’ has been mythical moment in the making. Less than a year after his 2017 major label debut, ‘Sounds from the Other Side’, the afropop juggernaut announced the title of his following LP, setting the stage for a scenic rollout marked with its fair share of false starts. Somehow, the FC (as the singer’s Stan base is often referred to) and scores of afropop faithful have kept hope alive, even as Wizkid flouted rumoured release dates on several occasions.
Between the unwitting anxiety effected by the trickle of loose singles and our collective will to manifest ‘Made In Lagos’ into being, it sometimes felt like the album was a figment of our imaginations. When Wiz surprisingly pulled out ‘Soundman, Vol. 1’ last December, he was clearly pulling a fast one, temporarily tempering the anxiousness of the main event. With each following hint that ‘MIL’ was indeed coming soon, there was a justified amount of scepticism, until the release of two brilliant singles—the H.E.R-assisted “Smile” and “No Stress”—and the announcement of an initially confirmed album release date, October 15, 2020.
In solidarity with the demonstrations against police brutality in Nigeria, a cause Wizkid has been vocal about, the singer pushed the album back to November 22nd. Due to an impending leak, ‘MIL’ has been brought forward to tonight, which isn’t necessarily ideal, but very much welcome all the same. So, here we are, finally: it’s actually real. We at The NATIVE were privileged to get an early listen of the highly anticipated project a couple of weeks ago and we confirmed that it was indeed real and actually finally on the way. The expectations are as high as they’ve ever been for the singer born Ayodeji Balogun, however, if there’s one thing I love about 1-listen reviews, it’s that it forces you to contend with what’s in front of you, not what you think it should be.
The time for guessing is over, it’s time to get into what Wiz has been stitching together for years. Cometh the hour, cometh the man (and if you stick with us, there might be even more on the way). In usual 1-listen review fashion, we penned our thoughts with no skips, no rewinds and no fast-forwards. Every song has received real-time reaction.
“Reckless”
This opening has upped my anxiety. That drop has me excited, Wizkid sounds so casually invincible. My headphones might be a little too loud but I’m too hyped to take my hands off this keyboard. Wizkid is talking that prosperity talk, deservedly so. “I go do anything for my family yeah”, Baba Bolu with the family man lyrics. Wizkid is a melody god, fuck. It might scan as a stale detail, but we need to appreciate it every time we can. This is me officially throwing out a Wizkid reggaeton album into the universe. I wish I had producer credits close to me, but whoever made this beat laced it appropriate. These horns are amazing, those piano riffs are immaculate and the bounce is just perfect. Great intro, let’s go!
“Ginger” (feat. Burna Boy)
Burna! Man, I’m hype. If they’re going to do this back-and-forth thing the whole time, I’m all for it. Reduced the volume a bit, this bounce has so much sauce. Wiz has settled into his salacious bag, his voice has gotten huskier and it’s selling that lothario appeal perfectly. “I’ve been making money, living reckless”. God, when? Afropop is the greatest genre of music, please listen to this bounce, you guys. It’s that perfect intersection between club-ready and isolated chilling with a romantic partner. My guy relegated Burna to the hook, I’m not even remotely mad. Sounds like a keeper.
“Longtime” (feat. Skepta)
Wiz and Skep, part two, streets been waiting. Skep has finessed the trademark Afropop bounce, he sounds so comfortable. I couldn’t find a quotable off rip, but that was a solid opening. Wizkid knows how to jump into a song, his presence is conspicuous without being disruptive. “Love wey I get for you pass any money” is the sort of line I’d imagine a KPMG employee texting Cuppy. This bounce tracks back to ‘SFTOS’, very afro-Caribbean and in tune with what’s fashionable in Nigerian pop music, which makes me wonder what made many people revile that album. I’ll have to revisit this.
“Mighty Whine”
A Wizkid song titled “Mighty Whine” is probably a little too on the nose, but I like the way this is going so far. The reverb on those drums are sticking out positively, I need to know who mixes Wizkid’s vocals, the person has helped create a perfect and recognisable aesthetic. Somehow, “Girl, I no come here to dim your light” stuck out to me, I like the line. Wizkid has been singing from a place of ease for the past few years, it’s obvious he’s been living the sort of enjoyment-filled, stress-free life one can only afford on a very deep bank balance. I really like this song, I see it as a fan favourite and even a potential big single.
“Blessed” (feat. Damian Marley)
Wizkid loves his horns, a lot. P2J definitely produced this, his drums have this recognisable character—e.g. “Anybody”. Damian Marley sounds so comfortable on this. “I do what make me happy and nobody can deny me that I’m blessed” is such a wonderful, wholesome flex. I’m not the most avid Damian Marley fan, but this is one of the rare times I’ve heard him this laidback, I really love it. For the umpteenth time, Wizkid knows how to inhabit a song with a casual authority. “The life wey I live so crazy, I pray say Jah go protect me” is an honest prayer. Wizkid should be the ambassador for living a life without any unnecessary problems. Is that Efya with the background vocals? Maybe, maybe not. This is a keeper.
“Smile” (feat. H.E.R)
The lead single. I liked this song when I first heard it, I didn’t feel like it was anything too special until I saw that heart-warming video that featured Wiz’s kids, beautiful Yoruba women and Suya. H.E.R is a feature killer, she knows how to match and elevate a pre-existing mood, just listen to “Slow Down” and “The Lay Down” as prime examples. She did a really great job on this, and shout-out to her for amplifying our fight against police brutality on Saturday Night Live. That bass guitar riff is redunkulous—it’s not a real word, but it’s an apt description. Yeah, this is a great hook, I see why so many people were gushing positively when this came out. Jam, definitely a keeper.
“Piece of Me” (feat. Ella Mai)
Guitars evoke beauty, man. This drum pattern is slightly unorthodox, one of the many details that has kept this album musically dynamic. I’ll take more r&b Wizkid, every day and twice on Friday nights. Ella Mai’s voice is so rich in warmth, it sounds like snuggling in the arms of a faithful, loving partner. I love how Wizkid has used these features, they’re working in favour of the song structures and keeping the album from feeling cluttered. “Piece of Me” is more of a deep cut, but I won’t be surprised if it picks up in the diaspora. Another good record.
“No Stress”
This was the better of the two singles if you ask me. This guitar riff shimmers perfectly, and the drums are boisterous enough to make sure things are firmly sensual. Wizkid is great at plainly singing what he does to his women and the effect he has on them, generally. Remember when he sang about the audacity of fellatio in a tricycle, which was as funny as it was very catchy. The sort of confidence Wizkid sings with on this song only comes from knowing you’ve snatched a person’s soul—I’m assuming, kinda. This is a great sex playlist song, it’s blatant but it’s just so good. Keeper, forever.
“True Love” (feat. Tay Iwar & Projexx)
This is much folksy than what I’ve been hearing, it sounds like a nice change of pace. Featuring Tay Iwar on a song about true love is interesting, the guy mostly sings about the jagged edges and complicatedness of romance. His voice is an absolute delight, though, it’s soft enough to convey the Utopia of true love. “Na me and you go dey till sunrise” is a very Wizkid line, he’s very plain with his intentions. Tay is very much anchoring this song, but somehow you can feel that it’s a Wizkid song. You can’t fuck up a good bass guitar riff, this beat is really good. That’s Projexx, Wiz is putting guys on. Man, dancehall guys are capital-E explicit, damn. I remember those jokes after the FC made sure Wiz cleaned out Vybz Kartel at that infamous No Signal battle, those were really good times.
“Sweet One”
This organ is giving me church vibes, wedding vibes to be specific. Yeah, this is a primary example of “afro-r&b”, I really like how simultaneously mellow and bouncy it is. Wizkid sings the way Messi plays at his best, fluid and easily mesmerising. “The money dey my mind, but my loving pass this life” made me roll my eyes a bit, not in disgust though. “I wanna hear you say my name” is trademark Wiz, he’s always down to make sure there’s enough carnal to match or even outweigh the heartfelt. These horns are gorgeous. Will revisit this, sounds like a solid deep cut.
“Essence” (feat. Tems)
‘MIL’ has barely lagged, I’ve been consistently entertained. Tems! Jesus! This woman has a great voice, it takes me by surprise nearly every time. Her singing makes it so easy to fall into whatever she’s saying, damn. Wizkid makes love songs sound refreshing, he has a million of them but somehow he never sounds like he’s threading in place—more like it’s a function of what he really enjoys singing about. That vibrating guitar riff is giving me life, this beat is wonderful. At the start of today, I didn’t know I was going to hear Tems and Wizkid trading melodies, this is the highlight of my day so far. Keeper!
“Roma” (feat. Terri)
This is giving me “Joro” vibes, very Igbo folk indebted. Blaqjerzee has mastered this corner of afropop. Terri has one of the best debuts of this year, quote me anywhere. I’m guessing this is their first song together since “Soco”, and it’s on Wizkid’s album, which must be nice validation for Terri’s growth as an artist and Wiz’s ear as a mentor. I remember when Terri was looked at as a redux of his boss, he’s turning that perception around really nicely. I’m not that crazy about this song, but I really like that he’s putting in a strong showing on this song.
“Gyrate”
Penultimate song. London tag, one of my favourites from the past year-plus. “I dey my corner, I dey my lane” is one of the statements you could aptly use in describing Wizkid. This beat is colourful, London is one of the more intriguing maximalist producers around so I’d expect nothing less. Wizkid is hailing the hustlers, a man of the people. “Gyrate” is not exactly spectacular but it’s a good song, not sure how much I’ll be spinning it.
“Grace”
There’s some sheen to these keys, pretty much emblematic of how expensive this album has sounded throughout. Rags to riches Wizkid is always so affecting, remember “Ojuelegba”? Well, this isn’t that but I like how reflective and celebratory it is. “Dem no fit to run my race” is a strong declaration. This second verse is really good, it’s as honest as Wizkid gets, even if it’s not exactly specific. “Say we want no stress, we thank God for life” is a reiteration of this album’s central idea. These keys are gorgeous, the drums are solemnly joyful, and “Grace” is a befitting closer for one of the most anticipated albums of our lives.
Final Thoughts
If there’s anything ‘Made In Lagos’ reinforces, it’s that Wizkid is living THE life. This is an album loaded with plush moments from top to bottom, an overt representation of a man who’s living the life of a king—he has multiple women on call, he’s got big bank, and he’s comfortably taking care of those around him. He’s far removed from the days he was pre-empting himself as a superstar, and he’s no longer at the point where he’s aiming to stretch his ubiquity all over the continent and across the world. This is an artist who’s undoubtedly an international brand, one who’s enjoying the spoils of being one of African music’s greatest exports.
As much as ‘MIL’ roots Wizkid back to his humble beginnings, it’s mostly a nod in service of conveying the stress-free life he now lives. Between instant standouts like “Blessed” and “Grace”, the singer expresses his focus on relishing his blessings and taking life at his own pace. Considering how carefree, yet somewhat measured, he’s shown himself to be on social media, this central message isn’t entirely novel, but it clearly translates into a self-assured and highly enjoyable album.
This is fourteen tracks of sumptuous melodies, light-hearted themes, great features that work wonderfully well within the scope of the album, and consistently phenomenal production. Due to its standing as one of the most awaited afropop albums in recent memory, deliberations as to the quality of ‘Made In Lagos’ will fill pop culture discuss and clog the timeline in coming days, but the one thing I can say with some level of certainty is that, this album doesn’t break form with who we know Wizkid is: One of the most effortlessly skilled artists contemporary afropop has ever seen.
Listen to ‘Made In Lagos’ here.
Dennis is a staff writer at the NATIVE. Let me know your favourite the Cavemen songs @dennisadepeter
The SA house music pioneers are back with a deeply moving and rhythmic new release.
South African house music pioneers, Black Motion, are back with a deeply moving and rhythmic new release...
South African house music pioneers, Black Motion, are back with a deeply moving and rhythmic new release titled “Khululeka.” True to its meaning in isiZulu— “be free” or “find peace”—this track is an anthem of liberation, urging listeners to let go, embrace love, and heal through the power of music.
With their signature percussion-driven melodies and the soul-stirring vocal chants of King Monopoly, “Khululeka” transcends the dancefloor. It is a spiritual and emotional journey, carrying an energy that is both uplifting and transformative. Whether in personal reflection or in the collective movement of a crowd, the song invites listeners to surrender to its message and rediscover love—both within and around them.
Since their formation in 2010 in Soshanguve, Black Motion—made up of Murdah Bongz (born Robert Mahosana), and Thabo (born Roy Thabo Mabogwane)—has become a dominant force in global house music. Their debut single, “Banane Mavoko,” put them on the map, and their albums, including the gold-certified Fortune Teller and the platinum-selling Ya Badimo, have cemented their status as pioneers of the genre. Their collaborations with artists like Oskido and Black Coffee, along with accolades such as multiple South African Music Awards (SAMAs), have solidified their place at the forefront of African electronic music.
Over the years, Black Motion has partnered with brands like Ballantine’s, Sony Xperia, and Coke Studio, and they are looking to partner with more under their new label Intascore, expanding their influence beyond music. With a combined social media reach of over 2.2 million followers, their music resonates with audiences worldwide, uniting people through rhythm, culture, and movement.
Following the release of '888', Kemena reflects on artistic evolution, self-acceptance, and balancing...
A little over two weeks after the release of his first project of 2025, Kemena and I sat down to discuss the...
A little over two weeks after the release of his first project of 2025, Kemena and I sat down to discuss the joys of creating art, the clarity that powers ‘888,’ and the freedom he found in surrendering to his path. Even though we were speaking virtually, his presence feels steady. He is speaking with the quiet confidence that defines his music–intentional yet fluid, deeply personal yet resonant. Over the years, his artistry has evolved, shaped by a desire for creative independence and the pressures of an industry that often demands compromise.
With ‘888,’ Kemena has reclaimed his space. The project neither chases the mainstream nor rejects it; instead, it exists on its terms, rooted in self-assurance. Across seven tracks, he weaves through stories with a sharp lyrical style and layered production, a testament to an artist fully in tune with his craft. In many ways, ‘888’ feels like an arrival—not to the commercial peak the industry might expect, but to something more valuable: a place of artistic certainty.
Standout tracks like “Rainy Day” and “Bola” remind you that Kemena is a storyteller in more ways than one. On “Rainy Day” he flexes his production prowess but the summery vibe of the song does not blunt the sentimentality of his lyricism. With “Bola,” Kemena taps into his element, deploying witty puns and his brilliant approach of social commentary and “I’m not mad, just hungry” is as relatable as it is envy-worthy—to be so intertwined with a lover that they can complete your lines.
Totaling seven tracks with a runtime of 16 minutes, ‘888’ is brief but expansive, a collection of ruminative thoughts, nimble melodies, and declarations of self-assurance. There is no hesitance in Kemena’s voice when he speaks about the album, no lingering doubt about whether he made the right choices, which is the same confidence he’s communicating in “You don’t need me”. ‘888’ is the product of someone who knows who they are and, more importantly, knows that they do not have to prove it to anyone. From the powerful declaration of “I Will Never” to the easy groove of “Evelyn’s Vibration,” the album takes you on a journey. It is a return to himself, a rekindling of the mindset he had before industry expectations clouded his creative instincts. It is also reminiscent of ‘Bond,’ the project that first put him on the radar of music lovers.
“I made ‘Bond’ as a student,” he reflected during our conversation. “I wasn’t trying to be anything. I just wanted to make music. And then all of a sudden, people started calling me—people I never expected. That was how I got into songwriting for other artists. But somewhere along the line, I forgot what it felt like to make music just because I wanted to.” When I asked him how he found his way back, his answer was certain: “I stopped overthinking. I just made what felt right.”
Our conversation, lightly edited, follows.
‘888’ just dropped. How are you feeling?
I feel cool. It’s been nice. I feel like a celebrity, to be honest. I’ve done a couple of interviews already, and I feel like I’m saying the same thing over and over again. But that’s a good thing, right?
‘888’ feels different from ‘Guitars and Malaria.’ Did you approach this project differently?
‘888’ feels like me making music the way I want to again. With ‘Guitars and Malaria,’ there were a lot of industry conversations and people saying, “Work with this guy, collaborate with that person, do this to make the music more commercial.” I don’t regret making that album, but looking back, I think I was trying to fit into something instead of just being myself. I wouldn’t say I lost myself completely but, I lost the balance between the business and my authenticity. I started to feel like my music wasn’t valid unless it was getting industry attention. And for a while, I was chasing that. I was doing what I thought I should be doing, instead of what I wanted to do. I had to learn that I’m probably a project artist. I needed to stop feeling like my music wasn’t enough just because it wasn’t ‘blowing up.’
I started thinking about why people liked ‘Bond’ and, back then, I wasn’t overthinking it. I was a student just making music because I loved it. I wasn’t trying to force anything. But then, suddenly, things started happening—I started getting calls from people I never expected. That’s actually how I got into songwriting for other artists. People in the industry heard ‘Bond,’ reached out, and asked me to write for them. And before I knew it, I was deep in that world. But in the process, I started to forget what it felt like to just make music for me.
Was there a specific moment that made you realize you needed to return to that authenticity?
Yeah. At some point, I just stopped overthinking. I realized [that] I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. I didn’t have to chase industry validation. I could just make what felt right. That’s where ‘888’ came from.
One of the things that stands out about your music is how it feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. Do your lyrics come from lived experiences?
Not exactly. I think the way my music is put together—the energy, the emotions—is influenced by what I’m going through at the time. But the actual content? Almost none of it comes from my personal life. I don’t write songs like, “Oh, this happened to me, let me put it in a song.” Instead, I take a feeling, a perspective, or something I’ve observed and build a fictional story around it. I also like humor. I like to be witty, to play with words in a way that feels natural but unexpected. That’s always been part of my music.
That makes sense. Your lyrics often have a layered meaning like they say one thing on the surface, but there’s a deeper story underneath.
Exactly. I like to phrase things in ways that make people stop and think. I want someone to hear a line and go, “I’ve thought about this before, but I never knew how to put it into words.” Or sometimes, I just want the music to feel good. It doesn’t always have to make sense, it just has to resonate.
Would you say that’s why artists like Omah Lay and Jon Bellion resonate with you? Because they do something similar with their songwriting?
Yes! Jon Bellion especially. His music is almost like sermons sometimes. He says things in a way that makes you pause and reflect. Like in “Conversations with My Wife,” when he sings, “What if all the things I’ve done were just attempts at earning love? Cause the hole inside my heart is stupid deep” That’s the kind of songwriting that gets to me. That’s such a simple way to express love. He could have said it in a hundred different ways, but he chose that one. That’s what I admire. Not just what they’re saying, but how they say it.
That approach is very present in your music, especially in ‘888.’ What’s your favorite lyrical moment on the album?
It’s a conversation. It’s not one person talking. On ‘I will never,’ there’s this part where one voice says, “The things you want for me, I want it too. The things you like for me, I like it too.” And then another voice—almost like a god-like figure—responds: “Hope you know that I would never say something I don’t mean.” That moment feels special to me. It’s basically a prayer, but I don’t like to box my lyrics in, I keep it open-ended.
With the album it feels like you weren’t just making music but you were reclaiming something. Would you say this project is a turning point for you?
Yes, I think so. It’s not my first turning point, though. ‘Bond’ was the first one. ‘Bond’ was the project that put me in rooms I never expected to be in. Before that, I was just a student making music. Then, suddenly, people were calling me—people I respected. That was how I got into songwriting for other artists. But then, in trying to navigate that world, I lost a bit of myself. ‘Guitars and Malaria’ was me trying to find that balance, and ‘888’ is me realizing that I don’t have to balance anything, I just have to be.
You’ve mentioned that you’re at peace with not chasing commercial success. Is there a part of you that wants mainstream recognition?
If it comes, great. But I’m not going to force it. I know how the game works. I’ve written for big artists, so I know the kind of songs that work in that space. And if I wanted to, I could sit down and make those songs. I could make music that fits neatly into what’s trending. But that’s not why I do this.
Does songwriting for other artists help you keep your music pure?
Yes! That’s a big part of it. Since I also write and produce for other artists, I don’t have to rely on my music to pay my bills. That takes a lot of pressure off. It means I can release what I want, when I want, without thinking, “Will this chart? Will this go viral?”
That freedom must be refreshing.
It is and it’s why I don’t overthink my releases anymore. I’m constantly creating. So when something feels ready, I put it out. I don’t have to wait for industry validation or the “perfect” timing.
What does that mean for the future? More projects?
A lot more. I’ve realized that my way forward is to just keep giving. The Lord has put me in a position where I can create without stress, so that’s what I’m going to do. No long breaks. No holding back. I’ll just keep releasing.
What is the biggest takeaway from ‘888’ for you?
That you don’t have to force anything. Whether it’s love, creativity, or success—what’s meant for you will come when you’re aligned with yourself. And if you have to fight too hard to keep something, maybe it was never really yours to begin with.
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.