In the world of the Nigerian youth’s popular culture, the summer of 2020 was characterised by Mowalola supremacy. Appointed in late June as the Design Director for Kanye West’s Yeezy Gap collaboration, Mowalola became the first (and so far, only) non-musician to cover a NATIVE print issue. She launched her website with the highly coveted bundle bags (which sold out in two minutes!??!) and earned twitter infamy with her witty laid-back retorts to Diet Prada and other haters crawling out the woodwork. Amidst all these new ventures – in the middle of a pandemic, no less – Mowalola remained consistent with her designer duties, dropping an SS20 collection on SSENSE, designing exclusive T-Shirts for Homecoming’s 2020 digital edition and featuring in i-D Magazine’s ‘The Faith In Chaos’ issue with her nude campaign for the instant sell-out bundle bag. This is where I first came across Chi Virgo.
Flaunting her flexibility, serving sexy “but in a reserved sort of way,” Chi Virgo’s first ever editorial campaign has since gone on to yield several lucrative, high profile modelling opportunities, including a Valentino spread in Dazed Korea. For Chi, “never Chai” (also not pronounced “shy”), the platform and the exposure the i-D feature offered was a big deal, but the main influence her first stint with Mowalola had was the boost in confidence the nude shoot gave her. As we sit over mugs of tea in her North London flat later on in the year, Chi explains her hype, revealing, “I never got asked to do editorials – like ever. So being asked to do one of my first ever editorials with Mowa, and such a good campaign – it was sick!”
Modelling was an important part of Chi Virgo’s childhood, as was her second passion and primary career path, music. Born in Lagos Nigeria, Chi shuffled between audience-less catwalks in her mother’s heels and live performances in front of her mother’s friends. Modelling was the first of Chi’s childhood passions to bear fruit, she was given the opportunity to live out her modelling fantasies at the age of 15, starring in an e-commerce shoot for a local brand in her hometown, Cheltenham. Unfortunately, obsessed as she was with modelling, the ruthless industry that birthed brutal reality TV shows such as Chi’s favourite, America’s Next Top Model or Project Runway or The Face – where no episode passed without tears – had no difficulty discouraging Chi, because of her weight: “I was always told that I was too big, everywhere I’d send my photos into, especially back in the day when they’d actually say that shit to you.”
A certified model now, Chi’s transition from late bloomer to coveted muse in modelling is a similar progression to her journey through music. Upon moving to England, Chi had a few bad experiences sharing her voice that deflated her confidence, and it didn’t help that Chi had become significantly more shy since she left Apapa. “I remember when I was like 12, I put a video of myself singing “Take A Bow” by Rihanna on YouTube, and the kids at school laughed at me for so long. I was like, ‘I’m never doing this again.’” Another experience singing a solo in the school Gospel Choir in front of a crowd of roughly 1,000 – and choking “so badly” – sealed it for Chi, “I was never singing again.”
Last November Chi Virgo released her debut EP, ‘Under The Moon’, a four-track project comprised of songs she had written and recorded in the early stages of her music-making career. A perfectionist in her endeavours, Chi Virgo spent months, if not years, labouring on “Bye Bye”, “Bored”, “Trip” and “On To The Next” to achieve the impossible standard. Acknowledging that she “should have just like, put [them] out and then make more and put [those] out but like instead I’ve wasted so much time perfecting, but nothing can actually ever really be perfect,” the time she spent on the music was well worth it. Just 11 minutes, ‘Under The Moon’ leaves listeners wanting more, but it’s condensed nature ensures that each song never leaves listeners’ heads. Messing around with genres, styles, flows and subjects, ‘Under The Moon’ is a comprehensive introduction to Chi Virgo’s talents, one that has audiences and music-makers alike, keen to explore whichever soundscapes Chi Virgo traverses next.
A month ago, we were treated to a glimpse into a more recent timeline in Chi’s journey, with the intimate loosie, “Wave”. Slurred in her vocal and dance deliveries, “Wave” is soft-spoken melody detailing Chi’s halcyon trip. Effortless, easy-going and released to the public so casually, it is hard to imagine that the Chi Virgo responsible for “Wave” is the same shy teenager who vowed never to sing publicly again. But arriving into tertiary education, it was during her time at Loughborough University that Chi Virgo began to hone her skills as a songwriter, and where she got her first inklings that she would one day become a singer.
“Lowkey, Mabel inspired me,” Chi laughs, realising that seeing a young woman making distinctive music and succeeding in the industry, despite the harsh odds Chi Virgo herself had experienced with modelling, was the encouragement she needed to settle on her career of choice – singing – at the time. Though her mother was supportive of her taking her time to figure things out post-uni, destiny has a different plan, which landed Chi in an enviable 9-5 at Amazon, “and I hated it. After the first month, I was ready to leave.”
Moving to London for the “territory manager, account manager, something like that,” job at Amazon, Chi was a fish out of water in the crowded yet lonely capital city. With very few friends, in a corporate job that wasn’t for her, Chi tells me she was “very unconfident when I first came here,” before reminding me that her “confidence has definitely grown a lot.” In Chi Virgo’s origin story, her move to London was the catalyst that set her powers in motion. Whilst Amazon might not have been the place for her, reaching that low point in her life was the springboard to her catapulting into herself, into the picture of beauty and confidence that we know and love today. “I think Amazon made me not care about my image so much, which was nice, for sure.” Toning down on the make-up – overcoming her eyebrow insecurity, thanks to Bella Hadid who reminded her that thin eyebrows were indeed fashion (this was 2015-17 when dark, thick brows were all the rave) – Chi Virgo grew confident in her natural beauty, a boost that has been heightened by her healthy lifestyle adjustment, which sees her practising veganism (to the best of her abilities; “I still sometimes dabble in a bit of cheese”).
“I’m just happy that I’m healthier”
She assures me that she never considered herself fat, but had always wanted to lose weight – 2020 was the perfect year for such change. Her healthier lifestyle included long walks during lockdown, which not only assisted her weight loss but also inspired a new mode of writing for the night owl. Waking up from nights out with five new notes of different songs she had come up with, working best under the moon (hence the name of her EP), COVID-19’s effect on clubbing left Chi Virgo with a painful writer’s block, that only hours of exercise could remedy. Now fully back into her step, over the Christmas break Chi Virgo made her great return home, where (unreleased) collaborations with the likes of Deto Black, Genio Bambino, Forevatired, and the other extraordinary talents in that orbit, drew out Chi’s dexterity resulting in her delivering some of the most bewitching vocal performances I’ve been fortunate enough to hear.
Chi Virgo has been blossoming into herself since 2018’s last quarter, when she officially left her role at Amazon. The road to becoming one’s own is long, and arguably never ending, but Chi has made substantial headway, in all walks of her life. “I’ve recently stopped caring. Over the past few months, I’ve really learned to not [care],” she tells me, happy that she’s overcome one of her biggest adversaries yet. Now bent on putting herself and her needs first, Chi Virgo is no longer seeking industry attention, but in fact is now selective about only shooting editorials for designers she actually likes. Though she’s still has “really bad stage fright” (fortunately live shows are few and far between), Chi Virgo doesn’t mind performing recorded songs alone to a camera and uploading it onto YouTube – most of her music videos are the intimate singalongs (now to her own songs) she was mocked for all those years back. Singer/Songwriter and model in between, the confidence she found on her way, that she so often references during our couple of hours together, is Chi Virgo’s most alluring asset; and her promise that it will always manifest in her music is why you just can’t get enough.
“When I first started making music, I wasn’t necessarily making music for me, I was making music people would enjoy listening to. Now I’m like, ‘No.’ Now it’s for me.”
From working her way out of London’s Myatt’s Field, Tanika is now setting her sights on the bright lights...
Across a career that's in its second decade, Tanika has proven to be a force in her own right, holding her...
Across a career that’s in its second decade, Tanika has proven to be a force in her own right, holding her own on collaborations with Black British stars like Stormzy and Wretch 32, as well as popular record producer Naughty Boy–working with the Grammy-nominated beatmaker on his acclaimed ‘Hotel Cabana’ album.
Following a stint as an actor, she returned to the studio in 2021, releasing a new extended play, ‘333,’ in 2023. The project carried all the hallmarks of Tanika at her tantalising best: lilting cadences, well-paced narratives, a songwriting that reaches for the heart of the matter.
On her latest song, “Fast Fwd,” she’s growing into her own and stepping into a new era. In many ways, “Fast Fwd,” a hypnotic, sultry anthem, is landing just in time for summer revelry. Produced by her longtime collaborator, Naughty Boy, her silky vocals land effortlessly on the mid-tempo instrumental and pulsates with her desire for her love interest.
Joined on the song by her fiancé, Kida Kudz, they make an interesting duo and replicate the synergy they had on “Nobody,” off Kudz’s 2021 ‘Top Memba.’ Distinctively marked by use of neon lights, the video for the song captures the effervescence of romance that Tanika hums about throughout the song.
From working her way out of London’s Myatt’s Field to becoming a star with millions of streams, Tanika is now setting her sights on the bright lights of superstardom. Ahead of the official release of the single, we had a brief chat with Tanika about her career, the influences for “Fast Fwd,” and working with KIda Kudz on it.
Her answers, which follow below, have been lightly edited for clarity.
How would you describe where you are in your career right now?
I’m just enjoying the journey.
What does the release of “Fast Fwd” signify for you?
It signifies love.
Why is Kida Kudz a fit for the song? (
To be honest, we didn’t plan to do another song together. I have worked on two records with him before (“Nobody” and “Tasty Time” ) but we never thought to shoot a video for it.. “Fast Fwd” felt like a real testimony of our present moment in the relationship.
You’ve worked extensively with Naughty Boy and he’s helped with “Fast Fwd,” what’s your relationship like and why does it work?
Naughty Boy knows me very well. We’ve known one another for over 10 years, so he knows what fits me musically. We gel. I think him knowing me and being a fan of Kida’s music made it all work. Naughty Boy does his listening before he makes a beat for you. A lot of producers don’t really understand the importance of knowing the artist musically but he does.
What were you aiming for with the video?
To be honest, I’m aiming for nothing. I’m just enjoying the journey. It’s been a very long road and I know I still have a long way to go.
Dutch textile brand Vlisco recently unveiled its latest campaign ‘The Garden Of Sisterhood,’ as part of...
Dutch textile brand Vlisco recently unveiled its latest campaign ‘The Garden Of Sisterhood,’ as part of its women’s month celebration. The campaign, which looks to extend Vlisco’s rich legacy in African fashion and its ongoing celebration of creativity and cultural storytelling, takes inspiration from Congolese musical icon Fally Ipupa’s latest single, “Mayanga.” The song’s accompanyingmusic video was shot in the Ivory Coast, and seamlessly balances Ipupa’s signature soulful Rumba music with intricate floral motifs and soft, elegant colour palettes that celebrate the strength and individuality that blossoms through community.
In addition to Fally Ipupa, Vlisco also tapped up Ivorian fashion designer Loza Maléombho and Nigerian director Daniel Obasi to contribute to ‘The Garden Of Sisterhood’ campaign. Maléombho’s unique designs and Obasi’s striking storytelling helped contribute to actualising Vlisco’s distinct aesthetic and vision of merging heritage, creativity and fashion.
In a statement discussing the collaboration with Vlisco, the Congolese superstar described it as a beautiful experience. “They understood my vision of working with talented artists and honouring the beautiful women who wear Vlisco fabrics. By creating exclusive designs for me and the remarkable women in the cast, Vlisco really brought our artistic vision to life, harmoniously fusing music and fashion,” he said.
Similarly, Marlou van Engelen, the creative director of Vlisco, expressed that it was an honour working with Fally Ipupa. “His song ‘MAYANGA’ perfectly reflects our admiration for the women who shaped us, inspire us, and mean so much to us. For us, it’s not just about fashion; it’s about the stories told through our beautiful prints. And I believe the best stories are always told together,” she said in a statement.
Having worked across every area in Nigeria’s sprawling music scene, T.G Omori’s lore has taken on an...
There are two types of producers in the industry: those who approach the art with a keen sense of...
There are two types of producers in the industry: those who approach the art with a keen sense of business—they know how to sniff out opportunities, and are generally aware of industry-wide trends and currents—and those who set the tone, who set the standards. The latter group is the animating force of the industry, TG Omori says in a 2022 interview with Korty EO. During the interview, he’s slouched in his seat, framed against the backdrop of a grand piano, wearing a bandana, dark shades, and a silk Hawaiian shirt—the first few buttons undone to reveal a glistening silver chain. In the intervening moments—fractions of a second—before Korty responds to the loaded assertion he just trotted out, the air is thick with balmy anticipation and nervous excitement “Which group do you belong to?” She asks, lancing the tense air that had inflated sharply like a balloon. “Me? Which group do you think I belong to?” He fires back, his mouth drawn into a smile.
Music video production, is at its heart, an art form that is significantly beholden to the vision and whims of the music artist and label executives. Music video directors—rightly—have to walk the tightrope between sufficiently distilling the essence of a song into a video and managing the desires and whims of an artist and their representatives. The problem, however, is that in between all of this, there’s often little wiggle room for the director to execute his ideas significantly. The result is often a situation where the music video director becomes diminished from an artist to a little more than an artisan. TG Omori, however, has in his long career railed against this. There’s no doubt that like his peers he has to straddle the demands of the song and the vision of his clients, but he does this without effacing his distinctive creative language. He has a fluency in packing his work with heady joy, a joy that pervades and steadies Nigerian society despite the many challenges it’s faced with.
TG Omori stumbled into music video direction by chance. He had been struggling as an actor, begging directors for roles as an extra—his skits and sketches from this period are still available on the internet—when it dawned on him that achieving success as a performing act was incredibly difficult. He noticed that a lot of upcoming actors were struggling to get by and often had to abase themselves in the process of currying favors with directors. The role of film director slowly started to worm its way into his heart, driving a wedge between him and his acting aspirations. Finally won over, he made the pivot to filmmaking, eventually settling on music video direction on account of its relative ease.
His early works lack his distinctive style, instead taking inspiration from directors before him. Consider YCee’s “My Side” which he directed in 2018. The video opens with YCee perched atop a high-rise building. The colors are muted, contrasting his current works which generously deploy bright hues and saturated lighting. There’s a gorgeous scene where YCee is framed against a wall with slits. Shafts of light stream in from behind him, creating a transcendent portrayal of an animated silhouette enveloped in light. The entire video evokes the elevated minimalism of Moe Musa. Think of the opening scene where YCee saunters atop a high-rise building, it’s a motif that has been deployed countless times by Nigerian directors, but something about that scene—the minimalism of the setting juxtaposed with dynamic camera movements—brings to mind Moe Musa’s video for Olamide’s “Bobo.”
While his early works lack his signature–the distinctive exuberance we’ve come to know him for–they hold kernels of what would come to be. Even in the muted ambiance of “My Side,”we see an early iteration of the pristinely dynamic camera movements that sweep through his oeuvre. In the video of Olamide, Wizkid & ID Cabasa’s “Totori,” released in 2019, his directional language starts to take form. He was contracted at the last minute to film the video—he had less than a day to come up with a concept, marshal his crew and steward the logistical aspect of the shoot, and yet in this pressure cannon, a gem was formed.
The video contains just one main scene—one of the few vestiges of the shoot’s hurried nature. We see Wizkid and Olamide encircled by an energetic crowd. A circle of dark bodies sways to the beat, handkerchiefs flailing in the air. We also see the flamboyant lighting that has come to define TG Omori’s work. There are light sources outside the frame but the scene itself is illuminated by a clever array of light sources. Moving headlights cut through clouds of smoke, LED lights and tungsten bulbs of varying colors suffuse the atmosphere with warm iridescence. The effect is the feeling of being transported to a rave. What’s perhaps most striking about this video is that, having been hastily formulated, it contains a single scene, and yet not one minute of it feels boring or repetitive.
Having worked across virtually every area in Nigeria’s sprawling music scene T.G Omori’s lore has taken on an almost mythic quality over the years. However, nowhere is his impact more pronounced than in the Nigerian Street-Pop scene. Today, Street-Pop has largely ridden itself of its underground status. Artists like Seyi Vibez, Shallipopi, and Asake imperiously lord over charts in the country, each boldly raising the banner of their respective cities and hoods. But this wasn’t always the case. In Afropop’s early days, Street-Pop was relegated to the margins, sneered at by industry gatekeepers for its brash flourishes, even though the mainstream routinely tapped it for inspiration. By the early 2010s a new generation of Street-Pop acts—Olamide, Phyno, and Reminisce amongst others—would elevate Street-Pop’s profile to historic heights. But it still maintained an insidiously tense relationship with the mainstream.
The first signs of an industry-wide shift–the shift that has blossomed into Street-Pop’s hegemony today–arrived in 2019 at the height of the Zanku movement. The addition of “movement” underscores just how significant Zanku was. On one front, it’s the title of Zlatan’s titular 2018 hit and an acronym for the phrase “Zlatan Abeg No Kill Us.” But it’s also used to denote a distinct flavor of Street-Pop characterized by skittering drums, cascading percussion, and a laissez-faire style of delivery—heralded in late 2018 by Street-Pop folk heroes like Zlatan, Chinko Ekun, and Naira Marley.
When culture critics reminisce on the Zanku era, the focus is usually on the artists who spearheaded it, but T.G Omori’s contributions to that period of Street-Pop’s ascendancy are impossible to ignore. While the artists shaped the sounds and dance steps that defined its grassroots appeal, it was T.G Omori who gave it its distinctive aesthetic. His early collaborations with Zlatan—most notably on “Shotan” and “Bolanle” offered a template for how the videos of the era could be presented on screen: hyper-stylized yet rooted in the whimsical chaos of street culture. His use of slow motion, jump cuts, and dynamic tracking shots turned what would otherwise be yet another ephemeral trend in Afropop’s dynamic history into a cinematic experience that embodied the feeling of the era.
His video of Naira Marley’s “Soapy” is especially telling. Arriving in the wake of Naira Marley’s arrest by Nigeria’s anti-graft agency, the Economic and Financial Crimes Commision (E.F.C.C.), the video very cleverly satirizes the experience, framing him, as well as others who were arrested alongside him—Zlatan and Rahman Jago, amongst others—as heroes as opposed to criminals. It’s important to grasp the significance of this. Street-Pop acts had always been treated with suspicion. There almost seemed to be a tacit consensus that regardless of their success or status, they mirrored an unsavory part of society, and so they deserved the asterisk that seemed to loom over their every move. The arrest of Naira Marley and his posse only served to further strengthen this narrative. TG Omori’s video, however, spun an alternative narrative, a hagiography perhaps, from this fraught situation. The video opens with annotated mugshots of the group, their names tacked onto each mugshot. Through TG Omori’s lens, prison becomes transformed from a place of despondency to a sanctuary where friends happily muck around, regaling themselves with games and bubbly dancing.
TG Omori’s influence in shaping emerging sonic movements extends beyond the Zanku era. It’s impossible to recount Asake’s rise without considering the video director’s input. 2022 marked Asake’s singular and meteoric rise to fame. His music blurred the boundaries of genres, creating an amorphous sound spread across the continent with intensity. His ascendancy also broke the boundaries between Street-Pop and mainstream Afropop, marking the dawn of a new era. TG Omori played a pivotal part in Asake’s early days, crafting a freewheeling visual aesthetic to match Asake’s disposition for subversion. In the video of Asake’s “Peace Be Unto You,” we see his freewheeling ethos at its peak. The song’s themes span faith, hustle, success, and street credibility. In the hands of a lesser director, the video would have followed the familiar script of a grass-to-grace narrative. TG Omori, however, rejected that cliché in favor of a more abstract approach.
Each of the themes explored in the song is distilled to a representative scene, the scenes are then cleverly stitched into a brilliant whole. The opening sequence sees Asake on a motorcycle, a formation of riders trailing behind him. As he rips through the freeway, doting fans wave and scream in adulation. Watching this scene, one is tangibly enveloped in the feeling of street credibility, the sense of ascendancy, that Asake explores in the song. It’s poignant and symbolic, conveying the essence of the song in a manner that would be difficult to achieve with a literal narrative. Similarly, the video of Seyi Vibez’s “Shaolin,” TG Omori’s inaugural work following a health-induced break, defies any discernible narrative logic in favor of a freewheeling approach. The video’s boisterous energy almost seems like a bold assertion of his continued reign; as if to say “I’m back like I never left.”
In August of 2024, through a series of heart-wrenching videos, as well as tweets, TG Omori let the public in on his health challenges. In a tweet, he revealed that his only brother gave him a kidney, so he could live again. He revealed that the transplant failed and, later, brought on thoughts of mortality. In one harrowing photo he posted on his Instagram stories, he’s hooked to a life support machine, the words “I don’t want to die” superimposed on the image. In the intervening moments, prayers and well-wishes poured in from all corners of social media. In recent months, however, he appears to be in better health and has fully thrust himself back into work, with “Shaolin” being the first of many projects he has lined up.
Eight years after his directorial debut, he remains not just relevant, but the frontman in an industry that’s as cut-throat as it gets. It’s uncommon in Nigeria’s music scene—for a video director to maintain this level of dominance for nearly a decade into the game. It’s his fidelity to subversion and his unique perspective on the art of videography that has earned him his position as Nigeria’s foremost video director. To watch a TG Omori video is to be transported into a world of his creation: where the sun pulses with exuberance, foliage throbs with palpable life, streams of light vibrate with saturated colors, and the streets are perpetually packed with graceful black bodies. It is a world where, regardless of the tyranny of fate, joy manages to always streak through.