When Nasty C released his sophomore album, ‘Strings & Blings’, he wasn’t aiming for kingly status as much as he was laying claim to it. After making the passage from hot prospect to proper rap star with his debut album, ‘Bad Hair’, his follow-up saw him elevate into an undeniable superstar, a transition that happened with little to no prior doubts. On the album, Nasty C was in his most rounded form yet, and it showed in how he relayed ample doses of personal introspection (“Another One Down”), examined the intricacies of intimacy (“SMA”), and sounded off imperial boasts (“Jungle”).
Nasty C’s his third studio album, ‘Zulu Man with Some Power’, finds him on the cusp of another upward transition. Earlier this year, it was announced that Nasty C had signed a global recording deal with prestigious hip-hop label, Def Jam, a marquee partnership aimed at furthering the rapper’s burgeoning international reach. Already tapping into the benefits of this arrangement, Nasty C has performed on American late night TV, and in June, he linked with DJ Whoo Kid for ‘Zulu’, a mixtape of freewheeling raps that loosely fronted his blistering abilities, and was clearly meant to drum up hype for the main event.
With this scenic roll-out, ‘Zulu Man with Some Power’ has definitely shaped up into one of the blockbuster releases of an already packed summer, however, it’s down to the music to fully acquit these high stakes and probably set Nasty C on the next, and possibly a loftier, arc of his high-flying career so far.
“King Shit”
A-capella to open up, interesting choice. “They can never play, I know my worth” is very fitting bar for a song titled “King Shit” in 2020. I like how Nasty C’s singing voice is somewhere between mellow and boisterous. That’s a nice horn bridge, I’m still waiting for the bass to drop. Ah, there we go! He’s rapping like a dragon casually breathing fire, brags were made for Nasty C’s rap voice and unblemished flow.
“Steve Biko”
Underwater keys will forever remind me of 40, that man is a genius. Did Nasty C just say he feels like he’s the new Steve Biko? That’s a weird brag, if you ask me. It just doesn’t align for a rapper to link his flossing lifestyle with that of a freedom fighter, well, unless his angle is Steve Biko fought for him to live lavish as a Black man in a white world. Look at me doing mental calisthenics, will have to revisit to get it. The production absolutely knocks, though.
“That’s Hard”
You can’t not go hard on a song titled “That’s Hard”. Ooohh! This flow is saucy, and these drums have an elastic knock to them, like a squid playing whack-a-mole with every available limb. Haha, references to Jordin Sparks and “No Air” will live forever. “Y’all careers is flimsy and blurry, y’all not focused” is an extremely disrespectful bar, I fucking love it. This man is handing down caustic subs live from mount Olympus. Yeah, this is a hard song.
“Overpriced Steak”
If there’s anything that’ll get me, it’s a flickering soul sample. That was a glorious bass drop, I felt it kick me in the chest. “Talking stakes over overpriced steaks” is an interesting way to sum up how good life has been. Lil Wayne and T.I getting referenced as inspirations, the latter features on this same album twice — that’s mad. “Won’t ever use my skin as an excuse ‘cos I’ve seen Hova face”, can’t wait for motivational, Black capitalist Twitter to start quoting this bar. Nasty C is no longer hungry, but he clearly still has a lot of drive in him.
“Feeling”
The songs have been short, which is great for a 20-song album. Nasty C has an impeccable ear for picking beats, those gospel organs have a radiance to them. “Validation is a drug”, talk to them, king. This verse is the closest he’s sounded to being on earth with the rest of us mere mortals, and he still manages to sound unvarnished. This beat is gorgeous! “I don’t walk on water but some people praise me” is an interesting way to capture being famous. He’s trying to sound disaffected by the special treatment he gets for being popular, and he’s also mouthing off at naysayers, interesting. “Promise you if I don’t die a legend, I’mma die trying” is a resounding bar. This whole song is resounding. “Feeling” won’t be the choice for a single, nor will it raise the roof at shows, but I can see myself and a few people running this back a million times.
“La Vida Loca”
Alien beeps and vocal harmonies. Getting money is obviously Nasty C’s favourite topic. This shit knocks harder than the police breaking into a house with no warning, and that Spanish guitar definitely conjures imagery of living your best life. With all of the things this song has going for it, it’s not overly remarkable. “Told my city I’ll be back, I got money pulling me on both sides” is a great hook, though. When rappers say they feel like Sosa, I roll my eyes a bit. This outro is an example of how to use an electric guitar as embellishment, not overkill. I’ll revisit to see if I like or dislike this more.
“Zone” (feat. Tellaman)
That bass guitar riff is making my ears vibrate. That bass dropped in with the force of a wrecking ball. I don’t really like when Nasty C gets into his vindictive bag when it comes to women, he seems to enjoy the disrespect a little too much. Tellaman’s is too immaculate for this level of savagery, but somehow he’s making it work. Whoever did these guys dirty definitely left an impression, and it was far from positive. I like this song a bit, not sure if I’ll like it more with multiple returns but I;m down to give it a try.
“How Many Times”
Starting off with a Piano and electric guitar combo. WOW! These drums are plush and gorgeous, I actually want to sink into them. I love it when rappers go at those who discount their potential at the beginning—Nasty C never spares them. This flow has some Young Thug to it, especially with those double time inflections, but Nasty C is owning. This is triumphant music that’s just as wistful. This breakdown is very Mike Dean-esque, brash and majestic at the same time. This man has vindicated himself, and his performance carries the aura of been undefeated.
“Eazy”
Man, I love this song! The best pre-released single, if you ask me. The grandiose energy of this beat taps reminds me of Kanye in his ‘MBDTF’ era. The carefree opulence Nasty C throws into his bars reminds me of when Kendrick said he does cartwheels in his estate. I can keep going with the references, but you get the point by now. This second verse should be preserved as one of the wonders of the world—any verse that effortlessly references Riley from the Boondocks deserves to be placed on a high pedestal. “Eazy” is aspirational rap music made by a rapper who makes invincibility sound spontaneous. Keeper, all day.
“All In” (feat. T.I)
Eish, these maudlin strings are a jarring transition but the bass just dropped and all is right with the world. On second thought, I have mixed feelings towards this beat, it has this stock, stadium-ready rap appeal I don’t fuck with. Not exactly in love with this nursery flow Nasty C is employing, but I’m not mad at it. T.I taps in, he sounds much more comfortable. Bankhead! Nothing too crazy is happening with these raps, but his conviction is selling me. I don’t like this hook, which is weird because Nasty C barely ever fails to deliver top tier hooks.
“Lose Some Win Some”
This album has flowed pretty seamlessly. Another cavernous bass drop, I love it. There’s some real honesty to these raps, fame really brings exploitive people around. He doesn’t sound paranoid, more like annoyed. “I cannot stop until we all getting paid” is noble, but it’s also a burden.
“Sad Boys”
Rolling pianos and r&b-type drums is very fitting for a song titled “Sad Boys”. We’re in the remorseful bag, the vocal performance has a lot of genuineness to it. This has a romantic tone to it, but it can be multipurpose. There’s no pride when it comes to regret, it’s a constant reminder that we don’t always make the best choices.
“Black and White” (feat. Ari Lennox)
This is the song I’ve been looking forward to the most since the tracklist dropped. Growling, funk bass guitars are an eternal cheat code, they will force you to pay attention. These raps are the type you go “Awww” to. When it comes to his romantic songs, I prefer Nasty C’s softer side when he goes full-on smitten, it adds a nice dimension to his confident persona. Ari Lennox! Her voice beamed in all the way from Venus, so beautiful and radiant. This is definitely her bounce, I can see this being on ‘Shear Butter Baby’. “Fall in love deeply when I look into your eyes”, yes please. They’re complementing each other really well here, this is a great collab.
“Deep Pockets” (feat. Rowlene)
I like this build-up. “I’ve got people asking me to move mountains” jumped out at me. Nasty C raps with a Teflon flow, even when he’s running through his bars. I don’t really like the auto-tune on Rowlene’s voice, but their harmonies lock in together quite well. Will come back to this.
“Bookoo Bucks” (feat. Lil Gotit & Lil Keed)
ATL Jacob tag, let’s go! I like this muffled entrance, Hndrxx would be proud. A Kobe reference, R.I.P Mamba. “I can’t be caught out by no low stakes/when my name is in their mouth like Colgate”. Fellow rappers, don’t talk about Nasty C if you’re not on his level. Gotit sounds good on this, maybe I should listen to him more. This hook will go off at live shows, especially with that Kobe reference. God, I miss live shows. Keed! His energy is always off the wall. That was a short verse but I loved the energy, very infectious. This is a banger.
“Palm Trees”
“I’ve got jewels on me, expensive ass shoes on me” is a pointed brag. This beat is a bulky monster; it’s like Bankroll sampled juggernaut running through walls and chopped it up as the bassline. That nuts line is crass but it’s also quite funny. The city of Los Angeles should be paying Nasty C, this is a glamorous ad for the city of angels. This is another live show fixture, it’s going to absolutely go off. “Death by a motherfucking diamond, I bet my chain look like a noose on me” is actually a bar.
“Zulu Man”
This song had me when it dropped, the conviction jumps out with every the double time flow. I can’t understand a word when he switches to isiZulu, but I can tell he’s snapping and saying some weighty stuff. I’ve just kicked living in South Africa up my bucket list, the cadence to the words are riveting.
“Ababulali”
Tribal chants and knocking bass, an oddly great pairing. This could be the whole song, and I’d take it with both hands. Who’s he promising the world to? This is very endearing. This has to be addressed to his father. After watching that “Origins” mini-doc earlier today, I can fully appreciate the sentiments behind this song. They didn’t have the perfect relationship and these straightforward raps represent that; at the same time, he’s committed to making sure they spend the remaining time working towards the best relationship possible. Usually, I’d have something to say about the chants but they’re perfect for the occasion. This is a great song.
“There They Go”
The lead single. This song is smug enough for me to feel sorry for whoever Nasty C is taunting. This flow is like watching someone cripwalk on water, that’s the incredulous imagery I can conjure at this moment. “I be listening to Weezy and he the reason I smoke trees and beat every mic”. Is Lil Wayne the GOAT? That’s a rhetorical question. I usually tend to dislike beats with robotic riffs, but this glockenspiel riff is doing it for me, and the bass is causing my headphone to vibrate. “I sign deals but I own my soul” is a bar. “There They Go” was a great choice for a first single, it slapped when it dropped and it still slaps on the album.
“They Don’t” (feat. T.I)
Confession time: I don’t really like this song. Here’s the thing, it’s a very “climate” record. Not that there’s something altogether wrong with a climate record, but I like socially aware songs to have some bite even when they’re aiming to convey optimism. I like the line, “They don’t want to see a young black man succeed”, but it doesn’t have the urgency or vitriol that I think racism should be met with. It does hold some weight when you look at it as a cry of exasperation. Ever since T.I said that Atlanta is Wakanda, I’ve had mixed feelings towards this verse. There’s a pointed edge and some lived-in resilience to his voice, these names will always jar me deeply. Black Lives Matter. Period.
Final Thoughts
‘Zulu Man with Some Power’ doesn’t just refer to amount; it mainly refers to the magnitude of Nasty C’s powers as a rap artist and continuously growing star. On his third studio album, he casts a larger than life shadow with a set of songs that sees him working at his impenetrable best. It’s the work of an artist who’s confident enough to believe he possesses a Midas touch, and he backs it up with a body of work that’s worth its weight in gold.
On “Blisters”, the intro track on ‘Strings & Blings’, he rapped, “Too much power for one Zulu man”, foreshadowing his rise to becoming one of the first names that pop up when rap music out of Africa is the topic. On “Feeling”, the fifth track on this new album, he proclaims, “Promise you if I don’t die a legend, I’mma die trying”, letting us know that he’s far from content with his current standing and is intent on breaking as many glass ceilings as possible, going forward. This attitude permeates the entirety of the album, as he cuts an invincible figure over a phenomenal batch of beats.
‘Zulu Man with Some Power’ doesn’t reinvent the wheel for Nasty C. Instead, it doubles down on his exuberant ethos, further fine-tuning his flair for impressionable bars, great hooks and attention-grabbing flows and melodies. The main addition is that he clings tighter to his heritage than he ever has on wax, rapping majority of a song in isiZulu for the first time in his career, dedicating an entire song to his father and making it clear that Durban will forever be home early on the intro track, “King Shit”. In reaffirming his roots, Nasty C has set his own terms of engagement for new listeners, while reassuring older fans that he’ll always carry them along even as the world gravitates towards him.
Featured Image Credits: Billboard
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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.